The Worthington Wife. Sharon Page

Hazelton by an invisible string. He just couldn’t let her out of his sight. Every moment with her was proving to be something special.

      He stayed behind Julia as she paused in the doorway to a tiny kitchen. A thin woman with short blond hair stood at a metal sink, scrubbing with ferocity at a pot. Her shoulders shook as if she were sobbing.

      “Ellen, what’s wrong?” Julia asked.

      He heard Ellen Lambert take a shaky breath. Then she half looked over her shoulder. “Nothing, my lady. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

      He figured there were aristocratic women who would be slighted because Ellen hadn’t rushed to the door and curtsied. But Julia was not one. “There is something wrong, isn’t there?” Julia asked.

      “No—”

      But Julia hurried forward, grasped Ellen’s shoulder, forcing her to turn. The woman’s right eye was surrounded by a large blue-and-purple bruise.

      “How did that happen?” Julia cried. She urged Ellen to sit in a chair at a tiny, rickety table.

      As she did, Ellen’s fingers went to the large bruise. “The daftest thing. I woke up in the night and I walked right into the edge of the door.”

      “I doubt it,” Cal said darkly. “That was done by a man’s fist.” His mother used to try to help women in their neighborhood who were beaten by their husbands. He knew all the excuses they’d used.

      “What man?” Julia said, her lovely eyes widening. “Was it one of your—your—” For all she had spoken so derisively about propriety, Lady Julia was now—sweetly—at a loss for words.

      But Ellen didn’t need the word spoken. She paled, but insisted, “It wasn’t. It was just a stupid accident.”

      “Now that I’ve seen it, why don’t we sit down and have tea? You’ve nothing to hide anymore,” Julia said firmly. “This is the Earl of Worthington.”

      Ellen stared at him. She stumbled to her feet. “My lord. Oh, I’m so sorry—”

      “Don’t apologize,” he said.

      The poor woman was white as a sheet. “I shall make tea,” she said, but Julia insisted she sit down. Hell, Lady Julia went to the stove and put the kettle on. That stunned Cal.

      While the water heated, Julia drew Ellen out of the kitchen into the small sitting room and gave her the basket and a small pouch.

      Ellen gave it back. “I can’t take this, my lady. And I don’t need to, my lady. I’ve enough for the rent.”

      “But I don’t want you to earn money as you have been doing,” Julia said firmly.

      “I would rather earn my money than be given charity.”

      That sounded just like his mother. Cal knew about a woman’s pride and stubbornness. But then, his mother had not had any other choice. Just like Ellen.

      “You do realize the house is supported by the money earned off the estate. Why then, should the house not support you?”

      Ellen started in shock. “I never thought of it that way.”

      “Well, it is the correct way. The way it has always been and should be,” Julia said.

      “There are so many who thought we would go back to happy times after the War,” Ellen said sadly. “I knew it wouldn’t be so. But I never thought there would be such poverty, such helplessness. I’ve tried to get work. But with Ben—with everyone knowing my story—no one will give me a decent position.”

      “Well, you need not worry anymore. I have an idea.” Julia outlined her plan to loan money for Ellen to open a business. “You may pay me back over time. First, we will find something for you to do. And Benjamin must go to school.”

      Cal leaned against the wall, watching Julia at work. Aware he was smiling.

      Ellen looked worried though, not relieved. “A good school will look at me and refuse to take Ben.” She lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “Perhaps I should give him away. He might have a better chance then. But I—I can’t bear to give him up.”

      There were only two times Cal had seen so much pain on a woman’s face. Once was in the War, when a village had been bombed and he had seen a woman who had thought she’d lost her children. He found them in the rubble of a collapsed house and brought them out to her. That moment alone had made his whole damned life worthwhile. The other time had been on his mother’s face when he was young—and he hadn’t understood back then that she’d feared losing him and David.

      “You don’t have to. You won’t lose your son.” Cal hadn’t expected to say anything, but the words had just come out. The two women stared at him.

      “But how can I have a business? Who would come to be served by the likes of me?”

      “Don’t say that,” Julia admonished. “We can make this into a fresh start.”

      Lady Julia meant well, Cal knew, but she really did live a cloistered life. She had no idea of the reality—how hard it would be for Ellen.

      But Ellen did. Glumly, she whispered, “Your heart is in the right place, my lady. You are so kind. But this won’t work—” The kettle let out a sharp whistle. Ellen went to it. Then Ben came into the sitting room. He gazed hopefully at Julia, but she said, “You cannot have another tart, dear. You must save them.”

      “Ah, give him another one,” Cal said. “I’ll bring him another treat later.”

      Julia frowned at him repressively. “Two tarts are rather a lot.”

      Suddenly Ben said, “Mummy is unhappy, isn’t she? I know she’s scared and worried. Is that why she doesn’t sleep?”

      “She does not sleep?” Julia echoed.

      “Not very much,” Ben said. “I know, because I wake up at night and she is awake. I get in trouble if I won’t sleep. Mummy says it’s important to sleep. Isn’t it important for her, too?”

      “Yes, Ben, it is.” Cal took a tart from the picnic basket and made a show of sneakily giving it to the boy. Julia looked askance at him, but he asked her softly, “Did you know about this?”

      “I had no idea.”

      When Ellen came back with a teapot and three chipped china cups, Julia asked right away, “Do you not sleep?”

      “Of course I do, my lady. If I got no sleep, I’d collapse on the floor.”

      “Perhaps you only sleep fitfully.”

      “What woman with a house and a child doesn’t sleep in fits? And in a cottage, there are always things that need to be done. The fire needs stoking. More water might be needed. Often I’ve forgotten to do things in the day and I remember at night.”

      “You should try to sleep, Ellen. Exhaustion won’t help.”

      “I will, my lady,” Ellen mumbled.

      But then Cal understood. “Lady Julia told me you drove an ambulance in the Great War, Ellen,” he said. “I went to war in 1917, when America joined the fighting. I saw the women who drove the ambulances. It was terrifying, with shells going off around you. I saw many women killed.”

      “Don’t, my lord,” Ellen said sharply. Then she dropped her voice, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, my lord. But I don’t want Ben to hear about it.”

      “Do you have nightmares?” Cal asked softly.

      Ellen hesitated. Shook her head. “’Course not.”

      “You’re not startled by loud noises? You don’t always have a feeling of fear?”

      “I—Of course not.”

      “But you do sometimes, Mum,” Ben said, startling