Page 8 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

FOUR

Elise woke every morning with an ever-increasing feeling of dread.

A week had passed since the discussion with her father, but she had yet to see either Gavin or her betrothed.

She strongly suspected that her father had sent Gavin away under some pretense or other.

Gavin was frequently away for several weeks at a time, undertaking tasks that were too menial or arduous for her father.

Hugh de Lesseps was no fool; he needed to make sure that the wedding went off as planned and that his daughter was still a maid on her wedding night.

Giving herself to Gavin only weeks before her wedding would ensure that if she got with child, her husband would be none the wiser should the babe not be his.

Elise had to admit that she felt a frisson of anger at the thought.

She might have feelings for Gavin, but she was a woman who valued her honor and would never disgrace herself or her father in that way.

Elise and Gavin had shared a few tender kisses, but it never went further than that.

Their affection for each other was pure and true, and the fact that Gavin never tried anything untoward with her was a mark of his love and respect.

Elise forced herself to throw off the covers and took a resolute breath before stepping onto the chilly floorboards.

Her feet burned with cold as she hastily washed, dressed, and brushed her hair.

She was shivering by the time she pulled on her woolen stockings and shoved her feet into her shoes, which were no warmer than the floor.

She turned to go downstairs, where at least a fire was lit, and it was a few degrees above freezing.

She’d stop by the kitchen to discuss the day’s menu with Cook and warm herself by the hearth.

Elise was glad that her sisters, at least, had a fire in their room.

Anne had a weak chest, so it was imperative to keep her warm at all times.

When their father had instituted the new economies, dispensing with fire in the girls’ room had never entered his thoughts.

Elise gathered her shawl about her shoulders for added warmth and turned toward the door, suddenly catching her reflection in the cheval glass.

She looked pale and melancholy, her eyes large in her unsmiling face.

What did Lord Asher see in her? She stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection.

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she resembled her mother.

She had the same sky-blue eyes and fair skin dusted with tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose.

The same full mouth and high cheekbones.

But her mother’s hair had been a deep auburn, whereas Elise’s was more of a pale red.

It looked bright and coppery during the summer months, but right now it was lackluster and made her appear even paler than she already was.

She was small and slight, with a high bosom and a tiny waist.

It was a blessing really that she looked so childish since to look her age would remind people that she was seventeen and not yet married.

Most girls her age were already wed and had a child or two, but Hugh de Lesseps needed his eldest to care for her mother when she was ill and look after the two girls until they were somewhat recovered from the loss of their mother.

It would be a year since Caroline de Lesseps died in February, so Gavin had planned to ask her father for her hand in marriage at Christmastime, but the sinking of the Celeste put paid to that.

And now she was to wed Lord Asher. Elise sighed.

Her mother always said that life had its own plan, and Elise supposed this was it. No one said she had to like it.

Going to the kitchen lifted her spirits somewhat. The cavernous room was blessedly warm, and the aroma of baking bread and beef broth made her mouth water. She’d had a terrible headache last night and had barely eaten any supper, retiring to bed with a hot brick instead, so now she was ravenous .

“Good morrow, mistress,” Cook called out as she extracted fresh loaves from the nook on the side of the hearth. “Can I offer you some breakfast? The master has broken his fast already, and the girls are still abed.”

“Yes, please.”

Elise took a seat on the long bench and gratefully accepted a cup of hot broth and a hunk of bread smeared with bacon drippings.

She bit into the food, momentarily content.

It was a long time till dinner; the sky outside hadn’t even begun to lighten.

It’d be another hour at least until sunrise, and Elise would have to make the most out of the few winter daylight hours to work on her trousseau.

Her father had called in their mother’s seamstress to make her a gown for the wedding that wouldn’t shame her intended, but the rest had to be improvised.

Elise hated going through her mother’s things, but her father pointed out that her mother would have been glad to see her gowns put to good use.

Caroline de Lesseps had a good eye for fashion, and her gowns, although elaborate and richly adorned as fashion demanded, were not gaudy or exceedingly low cut.

Elise spent the previous day altering a peacock-blue silk gown, a favorite of her mother’s.

It had taken her nearly all day since the stitches had to be tiny, even, and cleverly disguised in the embroidered pattern of the rich fabric.

Elise was a few inches shorter than her mother had been, and thinner.

Caroline had looked much as Elise had in her youth, but six pregnancies had filled out her bosom and expanded her waist. The bodice needed to be taken in, and the waist tightened so that there would be no extra fabric gathered at the back when the laces were tied. At least the sleeves fit well.

After breakfast, Elise selected another gown to alter and settled in a settee by the window.

Once the sun was up, the room would be bathed in bright winter light, and she wouldn’t need to waste any candles.

Natural light was easier to see by, and hopefully she would be finished before the first candles of the evening needed to be lit.

She ran her fingers over the claret velvet as she held the gown up and brought it to her nose.

It still smelled of her mother, and the familiar scent brought tears to her eyes.

“Mama, what would you make of all this?” she whispered into the folds of the sleeve.

“What advice would you give me? Did you feel so frightened before you married Father?”

Elise wished she could hear her mother’s voice in her mind, even if the answer was one of her own conjuring, but all she heard was a deafening silence.

Anne said that Mother spoke to her, but Elise had had no communication, not even a dream.

It was as if their mother had forsaken her, deeming her too mature to need such comfort.

Or perhaps, Elise didn’t really believe that her mother’s spirit was still with them, as her father kept telling the younger girls.

Caroline was gone, taking her love, support, and warmth with her and leaving Elise in a vacuum of sadness.

Elise had just finished hemming the claret gown when she spotted movement by the carriage house.

Her heart leaped as she carefully set aside her sewing and got to her feet, as if to stretch her legs.

Cissy had just come into the parlor to deposit an armload of firewood by the hearth, and Elise had no desire to arouse her suspicions.

She was a gossip at the best of times, a shrew at the worst, always looking for juicy tidbits to chew over with the other servants.

Hugh had her whipped once for speaking ill of the mistress but had been persuaded by his wife to give Cissy another chance.

Elise smiled innocently at Cissy and took a turn about the room, waiting for the girl to finish stacking the wood and leave before making her way stealthily outside.

The carriage house was located next to the stables and visible from all the front-facing windows, which included her father’s study.

Hugh de Lesseps used to spend hours poring over manifests, figures, and maps, but these days he spent much of his time gazing out the window, his mind refusing to settle to business matters.

Elise threw a cautious glance at the windows of her father’s study but couldn’t see the dark silhouette behind the sunlit panes.

She quickened her step and slipped into the carriage house before anyone saw her, breathing out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.

The carriage loomed in the dim confines of the building, its black-painted exterior making it look forbidding and grim without light reflecting off the windows and illuminating the padded interior.

The carriage house was Gavin and Elise’s special place, the only place where they could steal a few moments of privacy, away from the prying eyes of the family and servants.

Hugh was a man who enjoyed routine, so Elise always knew when the carriage house would be empty.

It was there that Gavin had kissed her for the first time and talked to her of the future.

And it was there, inside the carriage, that they hatched their plans, talking and dreaming as young lovers did.