All in all, Ellie felt remarkably pleased with life.

Chapter 13

Two days later she thought she might like to strangle the entire household. Helen, Claire, the servants, her husband—especially her husband. In fact, the only person she didn't want to strangle was Judith, and that was probably just because the poor girl was only six.

Her success with the tenants had proven to be a short-lived victory. Since then, everything had gone wrong. Everything. All of Wycombe Abbey looked upon her as if she were inept. Good-natured and sweet, but still clumsy and inept. It drove Ellie crazy.

Every day, something new died in her little indoor garden. It had gotten to be a sick little game in her mind—guessing which rosebush had gone to plant heaven each day as she entered the orangery.

Then there was the beef stew she'd made for her husband just to be contrary when he said countesses couldn't cook. It had so much salt that Charles couldn't have hidden the pinched expression on his face even if he'd tried. Which he hadn't. Which irritated her all the more.

Ellie had had to dump the entire pot outside. Even the pigs wouldn't touch it.

“I am sure you meant to season it properly,” Charles had said while everyone was gagging.

“I did,” Ellie hissed, thinking it a wonder that she hadn't ground her teeth down to powder.

“Perhaps you mistook salt for another spice.”

“I know what salt is,” she fairly yelled.

“Ellie,” Claire said, just a touch too sweetly. “Clearly the stew is a bit oversalted. You must see that.”

“You,” Ellie burst out, jabbing her index finger in the fourteen-year-old's direction. “Stop speaking to me as if I were a child. I have had enough of it.”

“Surely you misunderstand.”

“There is only one thing to understand, and only one person who has some understanding to do.” By now Ellie was practically breathing fire, and everyone at the table was agog.

“I married your cousin,” Ellie continued. “It doesn't matter if you like it, it doesn't matter if he likes it, it doesn't even matter if I like it. I married him, and that is that.”

Claire looked as if she were going to protest this tirade, so Ellie cut her off with, “Last time I consulted the laws of Britain and the Church of England, marriage was permanent. So you had better get used to my presence here at Wycombe Abbey, because I'm not going anywhere.”

Charles had started to applaud, but Ellie was still so furious with him over the salt comment that she could only glower at him in return. And then, because she was certain she'd do someone bodily harm if she remained in the dining room one moment longer, she stomped off.

But her husband had been hot on her heels. “Eleanor, wait!” he called out.

Against her better judgment, she turned around, but not until she had reached the hall outside the dining room, where the rest of the family would not be able to see her humiliation. He'd called her Eleanor—never a good sign. “What?” she bit off.