Page 44 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer (The Marlow Family #7)

Ellen’s legs trembled as she walked downstairs. Megan had helped her dress and now was sitting in Ellen’s bedchamber minding John.

She wore a pale pink dress, made of very fine muslin. The only part of this she did not mind was giving up her blacks. Now she had John, it was time to leave her mourning for Paul behind.

As she entered the dining room, she saw a box on the table, placed in front of the seat he liked her to use.

For a moment she could not make her legs walk on. Gifts meant payments. She did not want his gifts.

‘I bought a new gift for you,’ the lieutenant colonel said as she sat, as the footman withdrew the chair for her.

She sat down, staring at the box – it was a silent threat.

‘Open it.’

She did not wish to, because she knew it meant he wanted a gift in return.

‘Go ahead, Ellen.’ His words became snappy, and his tone the one he would use on a parade ground.

He was in a beseeching mood – a dangerous mood.

She complied and opened it, only because when she refused he resorted to violence.

Inside the box rested a string of pearls.

He stood.

She did not.

She remained seated, facing the table; her legs would not have held her up. Her hands shook. She slipped them beneath the table.

As he leaned across her, his breath touched her neck, making the small hairs on her skin rise as they had done from the very first time Paul had introduced her to this man.

She wished she could run. But to where, and what about John? How would they survive without Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s shelter and food?

He slid the pearls about her neck, his fingers brushing her skin as he secured it.

She shivered. It felt as though he had secured a collar about her neck, as though she was his pet, to be secured with a chain. Perhaps a silk chain…

‘There, they look perfect against your skin, and your hair, Ellen.’ He returned to his seat.

Ellen said nothing.

‘Are you not going to thank me?’ The pitch of his voice changed from the tone he used when he believed himself to be expressing love, to the one he used when he gave up asking and forced her.

Ellen looked at him. I hate you.

He held her gaze, his expression becoming bitter. ‘I said, say thank you.’

‘I do not need them or want them,’ Ellen answered quietly, hoping the footmen would not hear.

‘You will be grateful for them.’ His pitch lifted in defiance.

Damn you! All the other coarse words she had learned among Paul’s men spun through her head. She wished to throw them all at Lieutenant Colonel Hillier… ‘Thank you.’ She whispered her answer, while she shouted the words I hate you in her head .

He looked away and bid the footman, ‘Serve the meal.’

No matter her fear, when dinner was served, her stomach growled at the prospect of a proper meal; she had been eating only leftovers, cold meats and cheeses in her room.

The footman filled her plate, then poured her wine. She ate, listening to the lieutenant colonel speak without replying in anything more than words of a single syllable, desperately rushing to finish the meal and return to her room.

He drank constantly, taking a gulp of his wine between nearly every sentence. By the point her glass was empty his had been replenished thrice.

Ellen held her hand up, covering her glass when a footman sought to refill it.

‘Let the man pour,’ Lieutenant Colonel Hillier barked.

Ellen looked at him, discomfort unravelling in her nerves. ‘I do not want more wine, thank you.’

‘You are living in my home, if I say have more wine, you will have more wine.’

Embarrassment and anger prickled up Ellen’s spine, as she removed her hand. She could not bear the servants hearing his rudeness.

She looked at the remnants of her meal. She was no longer hungry. She placed her knife and fork together, left them on the plate and lowered her hands to her lap as she looked at the unwanted full glass.

‘Well, drink it as it has been poured for you,’ he said.

The man was obnoxious. She looked up and saw that he had drained another glass and held it up to be refilled. Her stomach tumbled over, unease closing in on her as if the walls of the room were moving inward.

‘Drink,’ he ordered.

With the servant in the room to watch, she did, uncomfortable to even live within her skin. She would get out of this house.

Sipping only a tiny little taste of wine, she watched him smile, as if pleased. He talked again, between mouthfuls, as Ellen continued sipping her wine and watched him, saying nothing now.

The plates were taken away and dessert presented – a grand statement of meringue and orange jelly.

The sweetness was oddly bitter in Ellen’s mouth, as across the table she saw Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s glass refreshed again.

He was edgy, and irritable, and she was afraid of doing or saying something which would lead to…

No , she could not think of that nor endure it, not now John was upstairs.

But he had bought her a gift and she knew what that meant. The pearls lay heavily about her neck.

They ate the last course in silence, as the footmen stood back and watched, and while Ellen occasionally took tiny sips of her wine to prevent the lieutenant colonel’s anger, he took great gulps and then waved a man forward to refill his glass.

Ellen longed for somewhere she felt safe. That had been her father’s house for most of her life, and then it had been anywhere with Paul. Now there was nowhere.

When she set her spoon and fork down on the plate, he took another large swig of wine.

He was fortifying himself – building up courage.

Either that or he simply wished to be in his cups within the hour.

Ellen shut her eyes, searching for ideas – how to escape…

Once he had finished his dessert he let his cutlery drop sharply on the plate with a metallic clink against the porcelain, then looked at the footman. ‘Clear this.’

Immediately, the footman moved and removed the used porcelain from the table.

Ellen counted down the minutes in her head to the moment it may not seem too early to leave, and when she went up to her rooms she would lock the door.

As the footman walked from the room, Ellen swallowed and stood. ‘I shall leave you to your port.’

‘No.’ The answer was sharp. ‘Shut the door,’ he called after the footman.

Ellen froze, her heart kicking into a rhythm of panic.

‘Sit.’ It was an order.

She did so as the door clicked shut.

Lieutenant Colonel Hillier stood and walked across to his decanters, then poured some port into a glass.

The sound of Ellen’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as well as pulsing through her blood.

He did not speak but turned and looked at her. It was a look of avarice – want.

‘You know I love you, Ellen. I always have, and I have tried to make you love me, but I believe you will never let the ghost of Captain Harding rest. He seems to hover over us. I am bored with it. My patience has run dry. I have given you much, and you have given me very little in return.’

He came towards her, his fingers pressing on her shoulder to keep her seated when she would have stood.

His fingers tucked a lock of her hair back behind her ear, then he held her chin and raised her head.

‘Such a pretty face. I was envious of Captain Harding on the first day he introduced you. You are the grand prize, Ellen…’

She was just a woman, like any other. Or perhaps not like any other – after the things he had done to her.

‘Do you not think you owe me more?’ he asked in a quiet voice, that terrified her more than his orders.

He set his glass down on the pristine, starched white tablecloth beside her, then he bent.

As she realised he intended kissing her, she turned her head away.

His lips brushed her cheek.

‘Not good enough, Ellen.’ His hands held her head on either side, so she could not turn. It was what he did when he did that unspeakable thing. ‘I have waited while you mourned, but you have had long enough. Now I want to be kissed.’ His lips pressed against hers, hard and firm.

It was not with love… It was not love… It was nothing like Paul’s kiss.

When he would have pushed his tongue into her mouth, she bit her lips and pulled back against his grip.

He freed her and straightened, staring down at her. For a moment he just stared.

She remembered all those times he had watched her when Paul had been alive. Had he been thinking of this then? Had he been planning this from the moment Paul had died?

‘You know, Ellen, you have a choice. You can be my mistress and I shall continue to keep you. Or you may take your son and go and walk the streets, and perhaps become the mistress of a hundred different men to earn enough to feed and keep your son…’

She looked to the ceiling and prayed for help. What can I do?

‘What is your choice?’ he urged.

She did not speak. He could not really expect her to choose to be his mistress…

‘If you stay with me now, Ellen. I expect you to be compliant. You must do all that I ask of you… Is that understood?’

She had a child upstairs. A child who needed a roof to sleep under, and she needed to eat to be able to feed him. It was icily cold beyond the door… She could not take her son out there.

‘Shall we try this again, Ellen?’ He did not even wait for her answer.

He knew her answer could only be acceptance.

His palms pressed against either side of her face.

‘Open your mouth.’ His words were spoken over her lips, hot and scented of wine.

She closed her eyes and complied. His tongue slid into her mouth, making her feel sick with hatred and dread, and her body shivered with disgust.

He moved away. ‘I said you must be compliant, Ellen. I also meant you must participate.’

No.

Tears burned in her eyes as his tongue pressed back into her mouth. She moved her own tongue, not in a caress, she felt too bilious, but just in answer… How has my life come to this?

One of his hands left her face and touched her breast.

* * *

Ellen lay curled on her bed in the dark.

When the lieutenant colonel had left her in the downstairs drawing room, having taken what he wanted, she had run to the only place she could, to her room and her son.

There she had used a bowl of water and flannel to wash her whole body clean. She still felt dirty inside.

The Commandments she had been forced to read over and over the day she had eloped with Paul, ran through her head… Thou shalt not commit adultery… She was an adulteress now. He had a wife in England. She would go to hell, but not willingly.

Yet her first sin had been her joy. Was this payment for that? Honour thy father and mother.

What could she do?

How could she have let this happen and done nothing?

How could she leave without money or possessions?

What am I to do?

Tears had run down her cheeks the whole time Lieutenant Colonel Hillier had touched her, and when he had done what Paul had done, she had sobbed aloud until he told her to be quiet. Then she had bitten her lip and wept silently.

‘Ma’am… Forgive me, ma’am.’ A very gentle tap knocked on the bedchamber door. Megan. Ellen sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘May I come in, ma’am?’

Ellen rose and walked to the door to turn the key and let her in. ‘What is it?’

‘May I come in and speak with you?’ she whispered, her voice shaky.

‘Of course.’ Ellen stepped back, letting her into the room, then locked the door behind her.

‘I thought… I want to say…’

‘Please speak, Megan.’

She drew in a long deep breath, then spoke as she breathed it out. ‘Ma’am, if you do not wish for another child. I can show you things you may do to help. There are no guarantees, but… I thought…’

Ellen stared at her, a fire of embarrassment flaring beneath her skin. But then perhaps what had happened had happened to Megan too if she knew such things.

‘Do you want me to tell you?’

‘Yes…’ Ellen agreed; to become pregnant by that man would be unbearable.

‘Then we must act, because if you are to do something to prevent it, you must do so now.’