Ellie watched the younger girl closely. Claire was clearly agitated and upset. Ellie desperately wanted to comfort her, but she wasn't certain that her overtures would be welcomed. After all, Claire had made her antagonism clear over the past few weeks. Finally Ellie simply patted the empty side of the bed and said, "Would you like to sit here beside me? I should enjoy the company."
Claire hesitated, then took a few steps and sat down. She didn't say anything for at least a minute, just sat there plucking at the blankets. Ellie finally broke the silence by saying, "Claire?"
The girl was jolted out of her thoughts, looked up, and said, "I haven't been very kind to you since you arrived."
Ellie wasn't certain how best to respond to that so she remained silent.
Claire cleared her throat, as if sumrnoning the courage to continue. When she finally began speaking, the words fell from her lips a mile a minute. "The fire in the kitchen was my fault," she burst out. "I moved the rack. I didn't intend for there to be a fire. I just wanted to burn the toast so you wouldn't appear so bloody smart, and I ruined your stew as well, and I've been poisoning your garden, and ... and—" Her voice broke, and she looked away.
"And what, Claire?" Ellie prodded softly, knowing what was coming, yet needing to hear it from Claire's lips. More to the point, she rather thought Claire needed to speak the words herself.
"I moved the pot of jam to the hot spot on the cooking surface," she whispered. "I never thought anyone would be hurt. Please believe that. I only wanted to burn the jam. That's all. Just the jam."
Ellie swallowed uncomfortably. Claire looked so miserable, so unhappy, and so damned sorry that Ellie wanted to comfort her, even though she'd been the cause of so much pain. Ellie coughed and said, "I'm still a bit thirsty. Could you ..."
She didn't have to finish the sentence, for Claire was already picking up the cup of tepid tea and holding it to Ellie's lips. Ellie took a grateful sip, and then another. The laudanum had made her throat terribly dry. Finally she looked back up at Claire, and asked simply, "Why?"
"I can't say. Please just know I'm sorry." Claire's mouth was quivering, and her eyes were filling with tears at an alarming rate. "I know that I've behaved terribly, and I'll never do anything like this again. I promise."
"Claire," Ellie said, keeping her voice gentle but firm. "I am willing to accept your apology, because I do believe that it is sincere, but you cannot expect me to do so without a reason."
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. "I didn't want people to like you. I didn't want you to like it here. I just wanted you to go away."
"But why?"
"I can't say," she sobbed. "I just can't."
"Claire, you must tell me."
"I can't. It's too embarrassing."
"Nothing is ever as awful as one thinks," Ellie said gently.
The younger girl covered her face with her hands and mumbled, "Will you promise not to tell Charles?"
"Claire, he is my husband. We have vowed to—"
"You must promise!"
The girl looked on the verge of hysteria. Eilie rather doubted that whatever secret she was keeping was as terrible as she thought, but she remembered what it felt like to be fourteen, so she said, "Very well, Claire. I give you my vow."
Claire looked away before she said, "I wanted him to wait for me."
Ellie closed her eyes. She'd never dreamed that Claire had been harboring a secret tendre for Charles.
"I've always wanted to marry him," Claire whispered. "He's my hero. He saved us six years ago, you know. Poor Mama was pregnant with Judith, and the creditors had taken everything away. Charles barely even knew us, but he paid my father's debts and took us in. And he never made us feel like poor relations."
"Oh, Claire."
"He wouldn't have had to wait much longer."
"But what was the use of trying to scare me away? We were already married."
"I heard you arguing. I know you haven't..." Claire turned beet red. "I can't say it, but I know that the marriage could be annulled."
"Oh, Claire," Ellie sighed, too concerned about the present situation to feel embarrassed that Claire knew that her marriage had never been consummated. "He couldn't have waited for you in any case. You must know about his father's will."
"Yes, but he could have annulled the marriage and—"
"No," Ellie interrupted, "he can't. We can't. If he does, he loses the money forever. Charles had to marry before his thirtieth birthday, and the marriage could not be dissolved."
"I didn't know," Claire said quietly.
Ellie sighed. What a muck. Then she realized what she'd just said and opened her eyes very wide. "Oh dear," she said, "Charles's birthday. Did I miss it?" He had said he had how many days before his birthday when they met? Fifteen? Seventeen? Ellie pinpointed the day he'd proposed in her mental calendar and began to count forward.
"His birthday is in two days' time," Claire said.
As if on cue, a firm knock sounded at the door. "That will be Charles," both women said in unison.
Then Claire added, "No one else knocks nearly as loud."
"Come in," Ellie called out. Then she turned to Claire and urgently whispered, "You're going to have to tell him. You don't have to tell him why, but you're going to have to tell him you did it."
Claire looked glum but resigned. "I know."
Charles swept into the room carrying a silver tray with a tea service and biscuits. He shooed Claire off the bed and set it down in her place. "Would you care to pour, cousin?" he asked. "It ought to be well-steeped. I waited with it for several minutes on the stairs to give you two more time together."