Chapter Thirteen

W ith part of her plan already in motion, all Ysella had to do now was get rid of that tattletale Martha, who, if they met up with Oliver in Marlborough, would undoubtedly report back to Mama and Kit.

"Tell me, Martha, how is your sister?" Ysella asked on Wednesday morning, when Martha brought in her breakfast tray, knowing full well that Martha's sister was in the same condition Morvoren had so recently been in, but in nowhere near such favorable circumstances.

Martha set the tray, containing toast and hot chocolate, Ysella's favorites, on her mistress's knee. "Finding it hard, Miss Ysella. What with the twins under her feet all the time and Joe out all day in the fields." Martha's sister, who'd once worked in the Abbey as a maid, was married to a tenant farmer and lived out beyond the village at the far end of the estate.

"Do you think she might like a basket of food from our kitchens?" Ysella asked, pretending an interest in her toast. "Something to make her feel a little pampered. A few special delicacies. And perhaps we could make a parcel of some of Kit's old clothes for the twins. They're out of petticoats now, aren't they?"

Martha nodded. "She would be that pleased, Miss Ysella. And the clothes'd come in right handy, seeing as how hard it is to keep those boys neat and tidy."

Ysella smiled inwardly while outwardly keeping an expression of earnest commiseration. "Then let's go along to the schoolroom after breakfast and have a look in those chests of old clothes. I'm certain there will be plenty to choose from. Some of my brother's childhood boots as well. And then, if you like, you can walk over there today with the clothes and food, and visit your sister. I'm sure she'd be very pleased to see you." She paused, pleased with her subterfuge. "Some flowers from the Orangery as well, I think, and we can ask one of the gardeners what fruit is ripe for the picking. No need for you to hurry back. Spend some time with her while you can. Don't worry about me. I can get Ellen to come and serve as my maid today."

Martha beamed at her. "Ooh, thank you kindly, Miss Ysella. I'll be sure and tell my sister 'twas you that sent everything over for her. She'll be that happy to have shoes for the twins. She says they wear them out something rotten now they're running about outside all the time."

Sorted. Ysella congratulated herself on her own perspicacity.

She and Martha spent the next half hour, after Ysella had dressed, rummaging through the contents of the chests in the schoolroom and finding the smallest of Kit's old clothes. There were indeed several useful pairs of his old boots and shoes, still with quite a lot of wear in them. Some boot blacking would soon have them looking as good as new. A grateful Martha, who was fond of her sister, parceled these up, along with the tiny breeches, shirts, stockings and jackets, in brown paper tied with string.

Once this was dealt with, Ysella accompanied Martha to the kitchens and organized the filling of a wicker basket with fruit, a large ham, jars of jams and jellies, a tub of thick cream and anything else she could think of until the basket was so full Martha was going to have a job carrying it all that way. The kitchen boy returned from the Orangery with a suitably colorful and flamboyant bouquet, and Ysella waved Martha on her way with a feeling of deep satisfaction and no guilt whatsoever. Then, with Ellen, one of the younger housemaids, in tow, she returned to her bedroom.

Once inside, she closed the door. "Now, Ellen," she said to the overawed girl whom she'd specially picked for her mousey countenance and matching biddable nature. "I am going into Marlborough to the dressmakers today, and I want you to come with me as I've given Martha the day off. But…" she fixed the timid Ellen, who was only about fifteen, with a hard stare. "I need you to be the soul of discretion. Can you be?"

Ellen's pale brow furrowed in confusion. "You want me to be what, Miss?"

Ysella sighed. "I mean I don't want you to tell anyone about today." She leaned closer. "Not even if they interrogate you."

"Interrogate me?"

"Demand you answer their questions. Shout at you. That sort of thing."

Ellen's brown eyes opened wide as saucers and she nodded, but with a definite hint of fear on her face. Hopefully, she was more afraid of Ysella's displeasure than she was of the threat of being interrogated, which probably wouldn't happen anyway. What a good idea it had been to dispose of Martha and replace her with a more biddable servant. Much as Ysella was fond of Martha, who'd been with her for a number of years now, she did have an annoying habit of behaving like Mama.

"The first thing we have to do," Ysella announced, going to the wardrobe, "is find me a much more suitable gown. Which one do you think will be most becoming?" She flicked a white gown embroidered with small yellow daisies out of the wardrobe and held it up to her body, glancing from her reflection in the cheval mirror to Ellen's nervous face. "This one or the one with roses on it?" She raised her eyebrows at Ellen. "Well?"

"They're both lovely, Miss Ysella," Ellen muttered.

Ysella flung the daisy dress down on her bed and whipped out the one with roses on it. Both gowns were not quite suitable for a morning trip to town, being practically sleeveless and very low cut. But as she was going to be disguising what she wore under a spencer, that wouldn't matter. And she wanted to be wearing a pretty gown to meet Oliver. "I'll wear the one with the roses," she declared. "With the red spencer. Put the daisy one away again and help me out of this boring old dress."

Ellen, whom Ysella had recruited twice in the past to stand in for Martha when she'd been ill, at least knew what to do for a lady. Unlike the first time when she'd had to be taught every little thing. She soon had Ysella out of her plain day dress and was helping her into the much prettier rose embroidered dress, a little hampered by Ysella repeatedly wanting to admire herself in the cheval glass. But it was done at last, and Ysella stood regarding her reflection with satisfaction. Let Oliver see her in this, and he would be hers. He'd want to make an offer for her straightaway. Surely Kit couldn't turn him away if he came cap in hand and humble? He was an officer, after all, and being the son of a bishop made him quite acceptable in society. Better than Meliora's stuffy old solicitor husband, for certain.

Martha had done Ysella's hair for her that morning, so all that now remained was to don her spencer and bonnet, pull on her gloves and descend the stairs to the front hall. And hopefully not encounter the prying eyes of either Mama or Oliver, who might notice the skirts of her dress below her spencer and comment on her choice being an odd one for a visit to Marlborough.

For once, Ysella was in luck. With Ellen trailing behind her, she negotiated the stairs and hallway without incident, and Albert the footman opened the front door to let them out. The barouche was waiting in the drive, with James on the driver's seat and another groom waiting to fold up the steps after she got in. Resisting the urge to hurry, she stepped with dainty decorum into the carriage and settled her skirts around her under the raised hood.

Ellen, who must never have ridden in the barouche before, got in with a lot more diffidence and perched her bottom on the seat opposite Ysella. Her eyes, if it were possible, went wider than before, reminding Ysella of Dash and Duster when they were begging for tidbits. If it rained, which Ysella hoped it would not, she'd have to let Ellen come and sit beside her under the hood.

The groom jumped up on the back step, James flicked his whip and clicked his tongue, and the barouche moved off.

For the first ten minutes, until they reached the gatehouse onto the road that marked the edge of the Ormonde estate, Ysella contented herself with sitting in silence, considering how she was to effect time on her own with Oliver.

Ellen, on the other hand, stared about herself in such amazement Ysella began to wonder if the poor girl had ever been outside the estate boundary. But Ellen's education in the wider world was not important. Ysella had other things to consider.

Part of Ysella's hastily hatched plan involved Ellen's complicity, so as they left Ormonde behind and headed for the Old Bath Road, she patted the seat beside her, inviting Ellen to sit in the capacious shelter of the hood.

Ellen settled beside her with some diffidence, and as soon as she'd done so, Ysella reached out and took her thin hand in hers. "Now, Ellen," she said, plastering on her most winning smile. "I am going to need your help."

*

The Misses Sedgewick, Honoria and Lucinda, two ladies who might have been cut from the same forbiddingly austere cloth, beamed with toothy delight when Ysella entered their shop. Like a couple of crows, all their plumage was black, a sharp contrast to the shelves of brightly colored silks and satins that adorned their shop.

At the very back, in the gloom furthest from the shop window, sat the row of little apprenticed seamstresses who did most of the work. Morvoren had once persuaded Kit to help the families of these girls, all of them younger than Ysella, with a gift of food when they'd produced her very first ball gown. Perhaps Ysella, too, might send them some food if they produced the gown she wanted. Not that her main purpose was to purchase a new gown, but there was no harm in getting one anyway, as that would add color to her story. Kit would be most surprised, and probably suspicious, if she came back without having ordered one.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time today," she said, her gaze sliding to the door. Would Oliver dare to come right into the shop to find her? Not many men liked to dally in a women's dressmakers. Although Kit had never been bothered about doing so. If Oliver did, though, she didn't want to be still taken up with choosing her gown. "Perhaps you could show me the latest fabrics you have in stock?" She had a picture of the gown she wanted folded in her reticule. "I have the design here."

Oliver had made no appearance by the time Ysella had selected a peacock blue satin. She held up the picture she'd brought. "Like this, with embroidery around the hem and on the bodice in a slightly paler shade of blue. That will be perfect."

Miss Honoria made a show of measuring Ysella again, although they well knew her measurements as they'd made all her gowns for her first season.

"A fan to match, and slippers?" Miss Lucinda asked, holding up the suggested fan.

Ysella nodded, throwing yet another anxious glance towards the door. What if he wasn't coming? What if that dreadful boy had just gone off with his sixpence and thrown her letter away? It would be just like a boy to have done that. Oliver might have given up on her and returned to London to look for some other young lady to pay his attentions to. She might never see him again.

"And you said a layette for the new little heir?" Miss Honoria said. "How many gowns do you require?"

"Um, four," Ysella said, plucking a number out of the air. "Bonnets too. Slips, bootees, several shawls." What else did babies need? She should have paid more attention during her trips to the nursery. "Napkins?" So long as she didn't have to sew any of it, she'd be happy.

Wait. Was that Oliver strolling across the wide street in the direction of the shop. "I think that will do," Ysella gabbled in her haste to be finished. "Please add all this to my brother's account. I must go now." And with that, she swept out of the shop with the timorous Ellen trailing in her wake.

Oliver met her on the wide pavement outside. "Why, Miss Carlyon," he said with a bow. "How unexpected it is to meet you here."

Ysella beamed at him. "It's quite all right, Oliver. Ellen knows everything. She won't say a thing. I sent Martha to visit her sister, as she couldn't be relied upon not to report back to my mother and brother."

His smile became a grin, his eyes hot with a passion that set Ysella's impressionable heart a-pounding. "Well, in that case, perhaps you'd like to take my arm and we'll stroll along the street with your maid in attendance. All very respectable."

Ysella took his arm with relish, and, with Ellen trailing the ten paces behind Ysella had instructed, they made their way down the wide main street towards the western end of town.

"I didn't think you'd be able to come," Oliver said, after a few moments, keeping his voice low despite the distance between them and Ellen.

"I wasn't sure I'd be able to either. But everything fell into place just when I needed it to. Kit thinks I came to order a new gown and baby clothes for his new heir."

"And did you?"

She chuckled. "Of course I did. I'm not stupid. He'd be bound to notice if the gown and baby things don't turn up in a few days."

Oliver covered her hand with his. "I'm sure your new gown will be most becoming." He paused. "Although, of course, you need nothing like that to make your appearance attractive to me."

A little wriggle of excitement shivered through Ysella's stomach and descended. What was this feeling she was having in a part of her that was so private she didn't even have a name for it? How was being with Oliver making her feel like that? Whatever it was, she was very much enjoying it.

"You will have the opportunity to see my new gown when I return to Town," she said, trying to avoid thinking about that disturbing sensation. "I'm sure we'll be able to go back there soon. Every day, Morvoren seems improved. And little George is thriving."

Oliver sighed. "But if you go back to Town, you're going to meet some rich earl or duke and he's going to sweep you off your feet, and you'll forget all about your poor captain." His expression changed from one of longing to one that resembled Kit's spaniel, all big sad eyes. Rather disturbingly, it reminded Ysella sharply of the way Ellen had looked at her earlier.

"Of course, I won't," she retorted. "It's you I love." She stopped. Should she have said that? Was it not ill-mannered to declare yourself like that to a gentleman? Although he had already said it to her, after he'd kissed her so passionately in the Orangery before Kit came along and interrupted them. But she hadn't been sure he'd meant it, back then, or she might have said it herself to him in return. And Kit's angry words had lodged a greater doubt in her head.

Oliver stopped dead and turned to face her. "Can I believe my ears? You love me? I could scarcely dare hope that you might reciprocate my feelings." He took both her hands in his, clasping them to his chest. His dark eyes brimmed with a hot passion that made Ysella's toes curl with excitement in her elegant slippers.

However, her eyes flicked sideways, conscious they were making a spectacle of themselves and all the world could be watching. Or at the very least, someone who might report back to Kit. Was Oliver going to say he loved her again? Kit's declaration that Oliver didn't love her and only wanted her for her considerable dowry rang in her head. If only he would say the words again. That would dispel the doubt Kit's scorn for him had roused in her head.

Her wish was granted. "Ysella, I love you too. I could want nothing better than for you to be my wife. As soon as possible."

There it was. He'd asked her. He wanted her to be his wife. If she hadn't been standing in the street she might have jumped up and down with excitement and maybe squealed as well.

Instead, she gazed up into his eyes and found herself lost in their dark, passionate depths. Of course he loved her. No doubt could exist about that. Kit was quite mistaken and very mean. A mean pig of a brother who didn't want her to be happy, and who wanted to boss her about for the rest of her life. Oliver loved her, and she loved Oliver. Of course she wanted to marry him. "And I want to be your wife too." The words came out as a hushed whisper, for fear Ellen, still ten paces away and staring into a shop window, might overhear.

He glanced from side to side. They were outside a hat shop opposite the town hall. "Ysella Carlyon. Will you marry me? I'd go down on one knee if that wouldn't attract the attention of all and sundry."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes." This time she couldn't stop herself from bouncing up and down with excitement. "I will, I will, I will." Then her face fell. "But you'll have to ask Kit's permission, and I fear very much that he will say no." She frowned. "He seems to have taken against you due to your association with my cousin Fitz." She certainly wasn't about to share with Oliver all that Kit had accused him of. "He's never liked Fitz, although I don't know why. He's always been perfectly charming to me."

Oliver's eyes narrowed, as though he might be assessing her and the situation. "If you're right," he said, a hint of wariness in his tone, "and your brother is so against our marrying, then, perhaps…" He hesitated. "Perhaps we could… elope."

"Elope?" In one of Ysella's favorite romantic novels, the young heroine had eloped with her suitor to Gretna Green, so she knew all about eloping, and how romantic it was. But to do it herself? Should she? Was it quite the done thing for him to ask her to do it? On the other hand, the idea did sound terribly exciting and romantic. That someone should love her so much to want to do that.

She frowned. "But isn't Gretna Green in Scotland ? And isn't that a terribly long way away? Further even than London or Cornwall?" She had very little idea of the geography of Great Britain.

Oliver nodded, starting to walk again. They were nearing where his inn was located at the far end of the street from the dressmakers'. "If we can make it to Scotland, we won't need your brother's permission to marry, and we won't need the banns to be called or a special license. The law is different in Scotland, and Gretna Green is the first place we'll come to when we cross the border. I believe the blacksmith there performs the ceremony."

"The blacksmith?" That didn't sound quite so romantic. But… eloping with a handsome suitor just like a heroine out of one of her romantic novels. The thought that it would teach Kit a lesson surfaced. Haha. She'd have outwitted him. They both would have, and it would be too late to change things then. She'd be married and have control of her fortune. And Kit would never be able to tell her what to do again.

Of course, Kit might follow her, but he had Morvoren, who was still so delicate, to care for, so he might not. She peeped up at Oliver from behind her lashes. "Very well. We shall elope, if that is what you think is best. But I think we had better do this as soon as we can, before Kit feels he can leave his wife safely to chase after us. We should leave as soon as possible."

What an adventure this would be, and Kit would be unable to stop them. The more she thought about it, the more enamored of the idea she became. Yes. She would elope with handsome Oliver and marry him at Gretna Green. And they would live happily ever after.