Spring 1813
Easing the slipper from her aching foot, Ellen rotated her ankle first one way and then the other. While it wasn't broken, it throbbed enough to warn Ellen of a temporary limp come morning. Rubbing the warmth of her hand over her joint, Ellen glared toward the hall but a moment longer before heaving a sigh and letting her gaze wander over the sentinel trees and twisting vines of the torchlit garden. Although her solitary perch on the bench in the conservatory adjacent to the main hall allowed her some privacy, Ellen could still clearly hear the strains of music and flitting laughter of the partygoers.
She'd endured over a dozen dances this evening when she would much rather be finalizing the plans for the company's newest ship design, set to be released to the shipyards for building at the end of the year. Only if she finished the last details now. But the ache in her foot and the loss of precious time was for a good cause. It had taken her stepson longer than she liked, but he'd finally followed her suggestion and hosted a ball at Roscullen Hall. While it was not specifically for Judith, as the woman had already come out the season before, a not-so-subtle purpose of this ball was to create an opportunity for eligible bachelors to experience the wealth of Judith's brother and benefactor, thereby making a match with her all the more alluring.
Though she would never say she was grateful for the loss of Borlas—even now, she ached for her husband—Ellen was thankful she no longer had to make a long or centerfold appearance at these events. As she'd suspected, Georgiana was a perfect baroness, and Jonathan had eased into his father's title with a melancholic grace. The properties and assets of the family had flourished under Jonathan's stewardship, and Ellen was happy for that. While she was certain some in the ton would point to Ellen and the business ties to America as the reason for the slump in the grandeur of Roscullen Hall and the Carney family assets, at least those outside of a naval nature. However, to those who knew and mattered—namely Ellen and Jonathan and their family—they knew it had more to do with Borlas' lack of interest in the traditional and his obsession with the eccentric. How else would he have ended up with Ellen as his wife? Ellen had often jested this thought with Jonathan, earning a disapproving headshake as the young man did not like being reminded of his own former disapproval of the match.
A blossom-scented breeze tickled a rash of goosebumps across Ellen's skin. Judith had made her forego the heavier pleated shawl earlier in the evening, citing Ellen's beauty in the thin, rose-colored muslin gown being too hidden by the unsightly shawl. Only to please her stepdaughter and not to be seen as an item of attraction, Ellen had reluctantly left the shawl and now regretted her decision. First shucking off the other slipper and setting it next to the first on the bench beside her, Ellen stood, intending to hobble over to the chest near the arboretum entrance where she knew Georgiana kept blankets stored for the pleasant weather perfect for picnicking. Voices near the entrance stopped her, with Ellen freezing for a moment, uncertain if she should remain where she was or seek a more hidden alcove further inside the garden.
"I agree that she is a most lovely young lady, and all can see she is well-connected through her brother; however, the business with her stepmother is difficult to ignore." A woman's voice carried easily through the foliage to Ellen's ears. Ellen raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
"I believe some among society would be willing to overlook that." Another woman, older sounding, replied, her voice trailing off as if she expected or wished for her companion to interject.
She was not disappointed when the first woman quickly added, "But are they of the right character? I am afraid that all this ball has done is advertise the Carney wealth to the type of men willing to marry her for her wealth but care nothing for her heart."
Ellen rocked back on her heels and immediately regretted the movement when a twinge of pain nearly had her yelp. Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ellen hobbled back the few feet necessary to sit on the bench again. It seemed the women were content to remain near the entrance for the time being, and as it was the only way out, Ellen would have to be content to overhear their conversation.
"The Baron and Baroness are of good quality, and the family line has been in good standing with the Crown for many generations. I would hope that a brief deviation into the bloodlines of the New World would not be so damning." Ellen heard a thud as if something heavy had hit the ground. Perhaps a cane? "Perhaps Daphne could invite her over some afternoon for tea? Her coming out was such a success with the Queen, and young Miss Carney has weathered a season without a whiff of scandal. Quite a feat these days, with the likes of Lady Whistledown's pages going rampant around the ton. Miss Carney could offer Daphne veteran's insight while benefitting from the association with the Bridgerton family."
Ellen was so caught up in listening to the details and trying to picture the faces of the people mentioned she hadn't stayed alert to the location of the voices. One moment she was overhearing the conversation from the other side of a row of shrubs. The next, two elegantly dressed women were standing in front of her, their mirrored expressions of surprise evident in the torchlight.
"My apologies for startling you," Ellen didn't make to stand, instead picking up her shoes and holding them in her lap for the women to see further evidence for why she hadn't fled the area at their approach. It took her a moment to recall names, but Ellen dipped her head in polite acknowledgment once they registered. "Lady Danbury, Lady Bridgerton. I retreated here for a respite from the promenade. It seems I am far more acquainted with the dips and sways of a ship's deck than a ballroom." Ellen sat up straight. She was not ashamed of her vocation or of her family. Even when she'd been forced to stand in front of the ton during her brief time as Baronnes Carney, Ellen had been unwilling to bend to meet their expectations. And Borlas had never wanted her to.
"Lord Cuthbert's two left feet may further support your sentiments." To her credit, Lady Danbury was the first to recover, a devious smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Indeed," Ellen paused momentarily, curious what sort of response would benefit Judith the most. Finally deciding on a course of action, Ellen offered both women what she hoped would be interpreted as a genuine smile of appreciation. "I could not help but overhear a portion of your conversation. I was not trying to eavesdrop." Lady Bridgerton looked more troubled by this reality than Lady Danbury, but Ellen continued. "I would like to thank you both for your concern for Judith's well-being." Again, Lady Bridgerton looked more openly surprised by Ellen's statement, while Lady Danbury merely raised an eyebrow. "I know such topics are rarely spoken of openly, and even more rarely with the family members involved; however, knowing that there are members of the ton who wish my step-daughter well eases much of my anxiety regarding her future. I will not mention this to my stepson or to Judith, as it is not my place to discuss things I overheard accidentally, but I know they would also appreciate your consideration."
Lady Danbury tapped her cane against the ground, confirming Ellen's earlier assumption. The woman's gloved fingers flexed over the head of the cane as she continued to study Ellen a moment longer. Ellen didn't recoil from the studious gaze nor attempt to preen or improve whatever Lady Danbury was looking for.
"I would like to beg your pardon, Missus Carney. I never meant offense at your character or your personage with my earlier comments. I knew your husband well, and he, too, was a good man." Her lips pulled back into a half smile before she added, "Eccentric perhaps, but a good man."
Ellen chuckled, "That is a diplomatic way of saying odd, Lady Danbury."
"Please forgive me as well," Lady Bridgerton spoke up then, her fingers clutched together in front of her body, "I would never intentionally seek to belittle you or your family, and if my careless words offended, I beg your pardon."
It was Ellen's turn to study the women in silence for a moment. Coming to a conclusion, Ellen picked up a slipper and began tying it back to her ankle, speaking to the women as she worked.
"You were speaking in confidence to one another. Even if you had called my mother an overweight bovine," Lady Bridgerton gasped while Lady Danbury smirked, "it would be immature of me to be offended. You had no knowledge of my presence here and were speaking openly on matters that concerned you. I cannot presume to be on everyone's good graces or that everyone will be as 'forgiving' of my own eccentricities as my husband and the Carney family." Finishing with one slipper, Ellen took hold of the other and continued. "I spoke in truth when I expressed appreciation for you both. From where I'm sitting, it seems the conversation had more to do with wanting the best for someone I love and less to do with how my presence can mar someone's hope for a solid match."
Ellen looked up from finishing with the second slipper to find a gloved hand already extended, Lady Danbury standing behind it with a smile.
"Your presence could never mar anything, my dear," Ellen returned the older woman's smile as she accepted the offered hand. "If anything, I believe your presence will greatly enhance the remainder of my evening. Please, will you remain by my side until they call this ball to an end? I am always in need of enlightening conversation."
Ellen felt a steadying hand on her elbow and glanced over to see Lady Bridgerton had taken up post on her other side. "And I would also enjoy hearing stories from your time at sea. It must be so exciting."
Although she wasn't quite so injured as to require both women to lead her back into the ballroom, Ellen accepted their help because it was a gesture far beyond the immediate need to support her weight off her foot. It was a gesture of solidarity, of choosing sanity and sisterhood in the face of the chaotic storm that often came with a season.