LITMIR.BIZ

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to tell me even if I had been my brother and the heir, he would not agree to our match.

       But I refuse to give you up, and I must leave for America soon. My love. I want you with me. Will you come with me without his acceptance? Will you run away with me? We can leave at night and head for Gretna; elope. You know how much I feel for you. You know I cannot bear to let you go. Remember my love burns brighter than the sun for you. You are my life, Ellen. Come. Send word via your maid if you will. My heart shall ache until I can look into your topaz eyes again.

       All my love, forever and ever yours,

       Paul

      Tears dripped onto the paper, blurring the words. She loved him too. They’d met in June. He’d come for a house party with his father, the Earl of Craster, and his brothers. His family had come to talk politics, but Paul had only come to entertain himself.

      Ellen looked up from his letter, wiping away her tears. “I will write back, Pippa. You will take the letter for me?” The maid hovered near the door watching.

      When Paul had come here, even though Ellen was not officially out and allowed to socialise in high-society, her father had agreed to her joining the party.

      She’d been sixteen then.

      She’d eaten with the men during the day and entertained them in the evening, playing the pianoforte and singing while they stood or sat in groups and talked. But in those weeks Paul had singled her out. He’d sat next to her for several meals, and turned the music sheets for her when she’d played; his thigh brushing against hers as they’d shared a narrow stool.

      She’d known her father’s intention had been for her to draw the interest of the Duke of Argyle, but she didn’t want to marry an old man. Paul had talked to her and made her laugh, whispering as she played, while the other men talked politics and struck bargains about the room.

      They’d communicated through the servants since the beginning of August.

      Paul had befriended a groom while he’d stayed here and the man took letters back and forth, passing them through Pippa.

      Ellen’s conscience whispered as she turned to open her writing desk, which stood on a small table before the window.

      The very first time she’d seen Paul, before they’d even been introduced, something had pulled her gaze to him.

      Perhaps it was his scarlet coat which made him stand out among her father’s political friends, or his dark blond hair, which swept sideways across his brow, as though his fingers had combed through it. Or his blue eyes which had looked back at her. Or the dimple which dented his cheek when he’d smiled before looking away.

      When they were introduced, her stomach had somersaulted, and when he’d kissed the back of her fingers her knees had weakened. It was as if she’d known him a lifetime as he’d held her gaze.

      She’d told her sister, Penny, she wished to marry the soldier, not the old Duke.

      She should not have written to Paul though, not without permission… Thrusting the guilt aside, she put his letter down to start her own, sitting before a blank sheet of paper.

       Paul.

       My father has shut me in my room. I am to stay here until I agree to marry the Duke of Argyle. You would not believe how cruel he was about you. I know he is a Duke, but I have three sisters who may marry who he wishes. I choose to marry a captain. Yes, I will elope with you. Only tell me when! Send word as quickly as you can. I do not wish to stay here another hour even.

       I cannot wait to see you. Come and fetch me.

       Love, love and more love.

       Yours and yours always,

       Ellen

      Ellen blotted her words, then sealed the letter, dropping a little melted wax onto the folded paper. Then she blew on it to cool it, and waved it in the air. She finished by kissing the still warm wax, before she gave the letter to Pippa.

      “Be careful, do not let anyone see you pass it to Eric.”

      “I shan’t, my Lady. Did you wish me to bring you something to eat? I can fetch something from cook.”

      “No, do not take the risk, Pippa. If my father’s steward or the housekeeper discovered it you would lose your post and I will never forgive myself. I can manage. It is just a little hunger.” It shall not be for long…

      “Then is there anything else, my Lady?”

      “Nothing, Pippa. Go.”

      The maid bobbed a curtsy, then left, the servants’ door closing behind her.

      Ellen walked over to a chair by the fire and looked into the flames. Her fingers curled into fists as she held on to her excitement.

      It was Christmas in a week, mid-winter.

      She picked up the handkerchief she was embroidering for her youngest sister, Sylvia, and sat down, then took out the needle intending to sew again, but her hand dropped as anxiety twisted and spun in her stomach. She’d felt muddled for weeks – quivery inside. She’d been confused ever since Paul had left in the summer.

      Before he’d gone he’d slipped a note into a book he’d read aloud to her. It had said simply, may I write to you? She’d nodded, her heart blooming with relief that his leaving would not be an end to their friendship.

      His first letter had come by mail, but her father checked the post and when he’d spotted a letter to her he’d read it and returned it to Paul, telling him not to write. There had been nothing condemning in it, no words of love, only facts and stories, but still she’d endured a severe interview, and her father hadn’t even known she’d given Paul permission to write.

      Paul’s second letter, telling her about his first, had come via Eric and Pippa. It had still been merely talk, but he’d said he’d taken lodgings nearby for a week or two so he might establish a way to communicate with her. Her heart beat rapidly even at the memory of that first letter. She’d thought, surely if a man would go to such lengths, then his feelings were more than mere friendship.

      A week later she’d ridden out with Penny and Eric, and met Paul briefly. They’d walked through the woods at the edge of her father’s land, near his tall red-bricked folly, and they’d all laughed. Laughter was a rare thing in her family. Only when she was with her sisters, somewhere private, did they ever find moments to laugh.

      Paul had gone to London after that, but he’d continued writing. He’d mailed his letters to Eric, who’d carried them to Pippa. For weeks they’d been conversational, but in November their tone had changed. He’d spoken of the summer, and said pretty things about the colour of her eyes and hair, and the fullness of her lips.

      A week ago he’d written to say he’d hired a room at a local inn and asked to meet her. She’d ridden out with Eric, and not even told Penny, fearing her father’s reaction.

      She’d known what she’d wished Paul to say. Over the months since the summer she’d fallen in love with him.

      Numerous hours had been wasted ever since she’d met him, lying on Penny’s bed, or her own, whispering about Paul. When Penny had met Paul, he’d smiled his charming smile and bowed in his regimental way. Penny had been enchanted, and Ellen had loved him even more for being nice to her sister.

      Rebecca and Sylvia were too young to be confidents, yet she did love all her sisters, but now, if she went with Paul, she’d have to leave them behind. Loss shot through her heart like an arrow passing through it.

      A tear escaped. She wiped it away.

      When they’d met a week ago, Paul had taken her hands and said he loved her, that there was no other woman he wanted, or would want. He’d been ordered to go to America and wanted her with him. He’d asked for

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