she would never sink so low as to accept his suit, one that, transparently, had no real affection attached to it. She didn’t understand why he even wanted a wife, other than perhaps it would help with his business. She had no idea what that business was, but she could imagine that having a hostess might be expected, and that rather than going out and finding himself a wife at the Harrogate assemblies, Masterton had, instead, fixed his sights on her.
Truth be told, she suspected her refusal had only served to focus him even more determinedly on her. Some men were like that—not being able to get something only made that thing all the more avidly desirable.
His jibe “for now” lingered in her mind. Glancing back at the altar, she saw the altar cloth was still in place and went to fold and store the heavily embroidered piece.
While her hands smoothed and folded, her thoughts circled her situation, and she winced. She’d claimed she was content, and as far as the present went, that was true. But this life wasn’t one she’d chosen for herself; Fate and circumstance had conspired to put hurdles in her path, blocking alternate avenues and maneuvering her into becoming the old maid she now was.
Admittedly, it had been her decision to turn aside from her London Season before it had begun and return here to care for her father and hold the household steady for her younger siblings. At the time, she’d seen no option, and even now, she did not for one minute regret her return, yet at that time, she’d believed she’d been merely putting off her Season, not permanently leaving behind the prospect of having her come-out and possibly finding a husband.
At the time, none of them had foreseen that it would take years for her father to recover, even to being able to sit in a chair. No one had imagined he would never walk more than a step or two again.
But life was life, and one did what one needed to do to care for those one loved, and looking back, even now, she saw no other path. But following that path had led to her having to lay aside her dreams—all of them. Not just of a husband and children of her own but of traveling farther than York and Harrogate, and she rarely visited even those towns anymore.
These days, the canvas of her life had reduced to the area around the Hall, from Kirkby Malzeard in the west, to Ripon in the east, and effectively marooned in such a backwater, with no reason or opportunity to venture farther, she found it difficult to see how or where she might meet an eligible gentleman who would overlook her advanced age and form a tendre for her.
That obvious circumstance undoubtedly fueled Masterton’s arrogant certainty over his indefinitely available offer; he knew he faced no competitors for her hand.
She longed to puncture his swaggering self-belief, and one day, when he finally accepted she wasn’t going to be a part of whatever life he planned, she would. On that, she was resolved.
After laying the altar cloth inside the cedarwood box in which it was stored, she shut the lid, then placed the box on the shelf behind the altar.
Turning toward the archway, she cast a last searching glance around. Seeing nothing out of place, she walked purposefully up the aisle and into the chapel’s foyer.
“Ah—there you are, my dear.”
She swung to face Morris as he rose from the window seat on which he’d been sitting and, plainly, waiting for her. Politely, she inclined her head. “Mr. Morris.”
Like Pyne, Morris was the same age as her father. Of the three men, Morris had the heaviest build, yet he remained upright and active. He’d always struck Ellie as the epitome of what people meant by saying a man was a “John Bull” type; he projected the impression of having the brute strength and dogged determination to carry all before him. His dark hair was thinning, and his complexion was weathered and just a touch ruddy from the hours he spent outdoors, overseeing his acres.
He halted a yard away and smiled a touch self-consciously. “I would be honored if, when it’s just the pair of us, you would call me by my given name of Edward.”
Ellie managed not to blink in surprise, but she had known Morris for all of her life. Hesitantly, she said, “If you truly wish it…Edward.”
He smiled as if she’d given