Page 3 of His Bluestocking Bride

“I was reading in an almanac that temperatures have been disturbingly cool of late.” She rose from her seat to locate the book her brother needed, several shelves away from where he’d been looking. “It is disturbing, by all accounts.”

Reginald made a sound of agreement, taking the thick ledger from her. “It cannot last forever.”

“But I also read of a Russian explorer who found evidence of crops completely frozen and preserved in an ice field. I wonder if—”

He cut off her remark with a chuckle, shaking his head at her. “Ellen, I’ve no use for Russian ice fields.” He gave her a pitying smile and went back to the study.

“Of course not,” she murmured as the door shut behind him. Never mind that she found the topic interesting. At nineteen, even Reginald knew his interests took precedence over hers.

Ellen picked up her book and left the library, deciding she would rather read in her room where she might be undisturbed.

She’d gone a few steps into the hall when the study door opened and her father stepped out.

“Ah, Ellen,” he said, catching sight of her. “A letter for you. It was mixed in with my post. After the uproar your sister’s note caused, I quite forgot about it.”

Ellen blinked at him in momentary confusion, then a burst of delight filled her as she took the folded paper from him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Father.”

She hurried to her room to read in private. She hardly ever received post, and this letter came from her favorite cousin’s wife, a friend in her own right, Lady Marianne Falkham.

Dear Ellen,

Collin and I have been thinking a great deal about you of late. We have heard through the family that your home is busy with comings and goings as your sisters prepare to enlarge their nurseries. I cannot help but think it would do you a great deal of good to come visiting before winter sets in. Collin and I enjoy your company immensely and missed having you visit this summer. Please come visit for a fortnight?

Ellen read the rest of the note rapidly, her heart rising at this unexpected invitation. She left her room, looking for her mother and found her chambers. She was directing her maid in packing a trunk.

“Mama,” Ellen said, loudly enough to gain her mother’s attention. “I’ve had a letter.”

“Yes, dear?” Mama looked over her shoulder, her manner distracted. “What is it?”

“It is a letter from Marianne.”

“Lovely, darling.” Her mother pulled a dress from the wardrobe and held it out to her maid. “Rowlings, I think this would be better than the blue. We aren’t going to be hosting any dinner parties, after all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ellen stood in the doorway a few moments more, but her mother did not turn around again.

She’s preoccupied. Leaving tomorrow, of course she’s going to be busy, Ellen told herself and went back downstairs.

She tapped gently on the door of Papa’s study before letting herself in. Reginald was examining the ledgers on the desk, but her father looked up when she entered.

“Ah, Ellen.” He held his hand out to her, inviting her in. “Has your post added to the happiness of the day?” He nodded to the letter in her grasp.

Ellen took her father’s hand, allowing him to draw her near. Though estate business and training his heir took much of his time, Papa gave her attention and her opinion greater voice than anyone else in the family.

“I do have a little news.” She held up the missive and he took it, raising his gray eyebrows. “Marianne invites me to stay with her and Collin in Hampshire.”

“Indeed.” Her father unfolded the letter and began to peruse it with narrowed eyes.

Ellen couldn’t contain her question, her earlier desire to travel returning with force. “May I go? Mother will be with Dorothea. I don’t think anyone here will miss my company.”

Papa nodded, looking up from the letter at last. “Send your reply. You may be on your way after the coach returns from taking your mother to Dorothea.”

Ellen gave her father a grateful hug. “Thank you, Papa. I will write at once.” She fairly skipped out of the room. At last, something special, meant for her. Wasting no time, Ellen went to her room to decide what she would take with her.

Cousin Collin and Marianne were dear friends to her. Marianne and Ellen grew up playing at the Falkham home, though a gap of three years separated them in age. Marianne’s family sent her there a few weeks every summer. Marianne, when she grew old enough, debuted in London and had set her cap for one man, her former playmate Collin.

Ellen had been happy for her friend when they married.