When Sparks Fly (10 page)

“Martin!” she said sharply.

He roused only enough to settle more comfortably beside her, then slipped right back into his doze. She threw herself upon the pillow with a frown. Then she remembered that he'd barely had any sleep in the past two days.

She sighed. There would likely be no rousing him for hours. Unfortunately she couldn't stay in his bed until he awoke. Meg might stir in the night and wonder where she was. She had to be in the room when the children and her aunt rose for Christmas morn anyway, and if she lay here much longer, they might
both
end up sleeping until noon. That was too risky even for the new, bold Ellie.

Besides, it would be better to have this discussion in the morning, when he was fully in command of his faculties. She still had no desire to force him into marriage: he was a grown man who knew his own mind, and she had made her arguments. If he was still fool enough to prefer his solitary life, she wouldn't beg for his love. Even spinster­hood was preferable to that.

Leaving the bed, she dressed as best she could without help. Then she returned to him just long enough to brush the chestnut curls from his forehead and press a kiss to his smooth brow. “Good night, my love,” she whispered.

He didn't even stir as she slipped out the door.

Chapter Ten

Dear Cousin,

You mean that I let my heart lead me into trouble. I admit to that freely. But unlike you, sir, I believe that one's heart will never steer one wrong.

Your emotional friend,

Charlotte

A
fter a night spent in fitful, erotic dreams, Ellie was wakened shortly after dawn by sounds of loud confusion. She hurried into the adjoining room, where her aunt hobbled about on the crutches she'd just begun using the day before. She was trying to soothe the boys and Meg, who were clustered atop her bed, each fighting to tell her their own version of some dire news.

“Oh, thank heaven you're up,” Aunt Alys said as she spotted Ellie. “Your father has arrived. And apparently he's bent on taking us all off at once, as soon as we pack. Or so the children tell me.”

“At once?” she exclaimed, her heart dropping into her stomach.

Tim rushed to her. “Yes, it's too horrible. Uncle Joseph said to rouse you and Mama because we're going right away! We're not to open our gifts yet or anything! And we're going to miss the goose and plum pudding and Yorkshire pudding and—”

“What does Lord Thorncliff say to this?”

The children exchanged glances. “Don't know. He wasn't downstairs,” Percy said.

He was probably still asleep. “Stay here, children. I'll go talk to Papa.”

“Yes, talk some sense into him,” her aunt said. “Whisking us all away on Christmas? I don't know what he can be thinking. . . .”

She dressed as her aunt clomped about voicing loud complaints from the other room. Then Ellie hurried downstairs to find her father making demands of a very flustered Mr. Huggett. Martin was nowhere in sight, though how he could sleep through such commotion was beyond her.

“I don't care what elaborate dinner you've had prepared, sir,” her father boomed, his barrel chest shaking with outrage. “My daughter and the others shan't remain one moment longer under this roof. Where are your footmen with those trunks, man—”

“Papa!” Ellie cried, torn between delight at seeing him and dismay about what he was attempting.

“Ellie, my girl!” Hurrying to meet her at the foot of the stairs, he gathered her up in his arms as if she'd been lost to him for years rather than a week. “I'm sorry I couldn't come before this. I didn't even receive word of it until two days ago, and the roads are still slick. That's why it took me so long to get here.”

“It's all right,” she reassured him. “We've been perfectly well. Lord Thorncliff has been very kind.”

“Thorncliff is the devil himself,” he hissed. Casting Mr. Huggett a foul glance, he pulled her out of the man's hearing. “I know you haven't heard about the fellow's reputation, but it's believed that he
murdered
his brother to gain this property. Why the local folk didn't arrest him is anyone's guess, but he certainly has no business allowing two respectable females to tarnish their reputations by residing under his roof without a chaperone.”

“Nonsense, he had no choice,” she bit out, annoyed that he should swallow the gossip about Martin so thoroughly. “We're very grateful to his lordship for taking us in. Otherwise we would have been in dire straits indeed. And I do know the rumors, but they're wrong. Lord Thorncliff has been nothing but courteous to us. If you won't trust me in this, ask Aunt Alys.”

He snorted. “Your aunt was injured and hardly in her right mind to form an opinion. Otherwise I doubt she would have allowed the Black Baron to take advantage of you all.”

“Don't call him that!” She groaned when her father's eyes narrowed dangerously. “He didn't take advantage of us. Nothing untoward happened.”

“All the same, we're leaving as soon as those blasted footmen get the trunks packed.”

“But, Papa, it would be rude to leave without even thanking his lordship!”

“I would gladly have a word with the man if he were here, but he is not.” Her father jutted his chin toward Mr. Huggett. “Or so his servant claims.”

“What?” She went over to take Mr. Huggett aside as her father went to the door to look for the coach's approach. “Where is Lord Thorncliff?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

“He came down shortly before dawn, miss, and asked if any of you were up. When I said no, he said he was going out and would be back in a few hours.” Mr. Huggett leaned close with a knowing air. “He said to make sure that I told
you
most specifically, in case you should happen to come down early.”

What was she supposed to make of that? “He didn't say where he was going?”

“I'm sorry, miss, no. But someone has already checked the barn, and it's locked. He might have gone to the mine, but it's closed today so I don't think he went there, either.”

“Find him, please!” Trying not to panic, she strode back to her father. “Papa, we must at least stay until his lordship returns.”

“No, indeed. I shan't wait on that scoundrel's leisure. If he wishes to speak to us, he can find us easily enough at the inn in Hensley.”

“Hensley?” Her alarm eased a little. Hensley was nearby.

“I stopped there to reserve us rooms before I came here. I want to consult the doctor about your aunt before we go on, and since it's Christmas, I thought we could stay the night there and return to Sheffield on the morrow.”

“An excellent idea,” she said in a rush, struggling to hide her relief.

Her father hailed a footman coming down the stairs. “You there, are the trunks being packed?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Ellie, go help your aunt.” He cast a dark glance about the sparsely furnished hall. “I am impatient to be away from this gloomy place.”

“It's
not
gloomy!” Ellie protested. “I find it rather . . . poetic.”

He shook his head, as he always did at what he called her “fanciful notions.” “Poetic or not, the sooner we are away, the better.”

For the next half hour Ellie did her best to stall him, though once he came up to hurry the packing along, she could stall no more. She consoled herself that Martin would surely follow them to Hensley if they left the manor before he returned. He had to, if only to say good-­bye.

Unless he sees this as his chance to be rid of me without any fuss.

No, she couldn't believe that. She wouldn't.

When everything was packed, and Papa had carried her aunt down to settle her comfortably in the carriage, she took Mr. Huggett aside. “Tell his lordship that he is invited to join us for Christmas dinner at the Rose and Crown in Hensley today.”

“Yes, miss.” But he wouldn't look her in the eye.

“You
will
tell him, won't you?” she pressed.

“I will, I swear.” Mr. Huggett sighed. “But I cannot promise he will go. You know how he is.”

“He must,” she said, determined to listen to her heart and not her fear. She dug into her pocket for the gold button. “Give him this. Tell him he owes me a boon.” He might come after her just to dispute that lie. Either way, she had to see him again before they left the area for good.

“Aye.” Mr. Huggett cast her a wistful smile. “Whatever happens, you should know that it's been an honor to serve you. I think I can safely speak for the servants in saying that we would be happy to have you return anytime.”

“Thank you, Mr. Huggett,” she whispered past the lump lodged in her throat. “I hope to see you again soon.”

As they rode off in her father's two carriages, she clung fervently to her hope of a return. Because it would be no Christmas for her if she didn't.

* * *

When Martin had awakened near dawn to find that Ellie had returned to her bed, he'd gone downstairs to find Huggett and the footmen bustling about in preparations for Christmas morning. Though he'd given up on stopping any of that days ago, it had been too much for him to handle with his thoughts in such a turmoil. He'd had a sudden violent urge to escape it before the children awakened and added their own brand of chaos to it. He had to think, to plan.

After walking aimlessly, he'd somehow found himself at his brother's grave, which lay in a far spot on the estate that had always been Rupert's favorite, overlooking the lake where he'd enjoyed rowing.

Martin had visited it every week since his brother's death. He'd told himself he did it as a reminder of what he owed to his brother and the miners, but after last night he knew differently. Ellie had been right. It had been a penance. All of it—his isolation, his rigid rules for the staff, even his neglect of the manor. He
had
been punishing himself—not just for his part in Rupert's death, but for being allowed to work and eat and breathe while his brother languished forever in the grave. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But then, life wasn't generally right or fair.

Or safe, as Ellie had pointed out. He'd used Rupert's death as an excuse to protect himself from life, and instead he'd condemned his heart to a vast wasteland where his guilt had become a kind of solace. A deadly and ruinous solace.

Then she'd burst upon him with her bright smiles and her ridiculous quotations. And her wonderful, forgiving, open heart. Now he had to make a choice. Embrace the happiness she offered or sink further into the guilt that had become his prison. It couldn't be mere coincidence that her coming had given him the solution to the problem of his fuse that had plagued him for three years. It was hard to think straight when one's mind was mired in misery.

He couldn't banish the guilt that still lay heavy upon his soul, and doubted he could ever rid himself of it entirely. But perhaps he could put it into its proper place and turn to living his life. With Ellie. With the woman he loved.

A moment of panic seized him. Loved? Oh, God—the very idea struck fear into his soul. Loving was the greatest danger of all. If he loved her, and something happened to her . . .

The answer is not to deny yourself family or friends or love. That only poisons the soul. Samuel Johnson said that ‘Solitude is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue.' By condemning yourself to this lonely life, you save no one, not even yourself.

A faint smile touched his lips. Leave it to his Ellie to quote some stuffy old writer to make her point.

His
Ellie?

Yes—his. He couldn't live without her, come what may.

He stared down at the grave another moment, then clapped his hat back on his head. “Forgive me, Rupert, but I must go. It's Christmas morn. And I think it's time I stop mourning a death on Christmas, and start celebrating a birth instead.”

With lighter steps he turned for home, eager to embrace his future. But the moment he entered the manor to a stillness too like the grave he'd just left, he knew something was wrong.

Where were the children clamoring for their presents, the footmen setting the table?
Where was Ellie?

“They're gone,” came a weary voice. He whirled to find a disconsolate Huggett slumped in a chair by the hearth where the Yule log still smoldered. “Mr. Bancroft came and took them all to the Rose and Crown in Hensley. They're leaving for Sheffield tomorrow.”

Ellie was
gone
? Without waiting to speak to him, to settle what lay between them? No doubt that was her father's doing. But for the merest moment, Martin was tempted to accept it as a sign that he wasn't meant for happiness, that he must have been mad to think otherwise.

Then he remembered her sweet face and the chatter of the children and the hope she'd brought thundering in the moment she'd arrived.
I am willing to fight for what I want,
she'd said.

And now, so was he.

“The young miss said I was to invite you to join them for Christmas dinner at the Rose and Crown.” Huggett rose morosely and came toward him. “And I was to give you this.” He handed Martin a gold button.

What the devil? Ah yes, the “lucky raisin.”

“I told the young miss that like as not you wouldn't wish to go, but she said to remind you that you owe her a boon.”

With a laugh that startled Huggett, he stuffed the button into his pocket, his heart lighter than it had felt in years. He should have known his Ellie would never let him go so easily.

“Tell me, Huggett, do you think the Rose and Crown will be able to get a goose today? Or any of the other trappings for a decent Christmas dinner?”

Huggett's face reflected a faint hope. “I would be quite surprised if they could, my lord, especially at this late date.”

“And do
you
happen to have such necessities lying about the house somewhere, enough to feed a large family?”

“I do indeed, sir,” Huggett said, his voice thrumming with excitement.

“Well, then, man, pack it all up—every pie and pan and loaf of bread. We're going to town.”