“Forgive us for calling upon you at such a time,” Henry said. “I presume you are eager to continue speaking with your family. Alone. If you need anything at all, I am happy to help you. I will help you in any way I can.”
Grace had been engaged in a quiet conversation with Amelia, one that Henry had not noticed until Grace cleared her throat loudly, calling both Edward’s and Henry’s attention. “We mustn’t leave yet,” she said.
“Yes, please stay,” Amelia said. She turned to Adam, placing her hand on his knee. “Grace has just informed me of a connection she has with Mr. William Harrison, her brother-in-law, a respected barrister living here in Brighton.”
Adam’s expression lightened for a moment.
“She is certain he will be able to assist us in the intricacies of Eleanor’s financial dealings as well as her continued custody of Arthur.”
Adam nodded slowly. “I would love to speak with Mr. Harrison.”
“I will ensure he calls upon you this week,” Grace said, smiling brightly. Her dark eyes mirrored the enthusiasm in Amelia’s, each woman trying to alleviate the tension between their husbands.
Henry’s eyes wandered over to Eleanor and Arthur, secluded in the corner. Why did she do that? Would she not wish to be near her family after being apart from them for so long? She still appeared nervous, as if she were hiding even from them. He could not explain the draw he felt to her. He shook the feeling from his shoulders, returning his attention to the conversation beside him.
The group arranged to have a meeting with Mr. Harrison at the earliest convenience for the barrister, and he and Edward and Grace were soon on their way.
Henry’s brother turned to him as they stepped out the front door, waiting for the butler to close it behind them before speaking. “You might have made a greater effort to make our visit more awkward.”
“Forgive me, but I could not think clearly amid the clear contention between Adam and yourself.” Henry took a deep breath, rubbing one side of his face. “There is no sense in holding ill feelings toward another person. It will do nothing but hurt you.”
“I always knew you should have been a vicar,” Edward mumbled, earning a well-timed jab from his wife’s elbow.
“There is always something to be learned from Henry,” Grace said, her dark eyes inquisitive as they glanced across her husband, settling on Henry’s face. “I have always wondered how the two of you were born of the same parents. You are as opposite as two brothers could be, at least in the way of character.”
“We have been mistaken as twin brothers before,” Henry said.
Grace laughed softly. “Yes, but I’m certain the very moment someone acquaints themselves with your distinct personalities, they would immediately contradict themselves.”
“Do you mean to say that I am not saintly enough to be a vicar?” Edward asked, mock offense gleaming in his eyes.
Grace refused to answer, bursting into laughter.
Henry smiled at the ground as they crossed over the neat lawn and returned to the carriage. But his smile quickly faded when he remembered Mrs. Quinton and her fearful expression. There was something wrong with the entire situation, and he would not rest until he discovered how he could aid in mending it. For the first time since he had moved to Worthing, he felt he had a purpose.
Chapter 5
The very moment she heard the front door click shut, Eleanor released a long breath, her shoulders relaxing. Why must Mr. Beaumont look at her in that way? She had never felt so scrutinized in her entire life. Yet she could not blame him for it. She had lied to him about her husband’s death, and he knew it.
She had spoken without thinking—she hadn’t thought she would ever see Mr. Beaumont again, at least not until after she had established herself in Brighton and secured her safety from the elder Mr. Quinton.
The entire time—the very short time—that Mr. Beaumont and Lord and Lady Coventry had been there, she had felt vastly uncomfortable. Even now that they were gone, Adam and Amelia watched her with growing concern.
Adam tipped his head to one side, studying her with intensity. “Why did you tell Mr. Beaumont that your husband was still alive?”
“I did not wish to speak of it with a near stranger.”
Adam nodded. He seemed intent to refrain from pressing her with more questions. She could see a battle in his eyes, even from her place across the room. His curiosity won out. “Did you ever say… how Mr. Quinton died?”
Her muscles clenched. “I did not.” She licked her lips. “It was unexpected. I—I returned home one day and found him dead. I do not know what happened. That was when I fled with Arthur.”
Adam glanced at his wife, who sat a little closer to the edge of her seat. “Have you not worked with a solicitor to settle the estate?”
“I did not have the time.”
“Why not? With your husband dead, what reason could you have had to flee so quickly?”
She felt the familiar sensation of fear creeping over her skin and scratching icy fingers over her shoulder blades. “His father. He lived nearby. He was rather obsessed with his grandson—with Arthur—and often insisted on teaching him, taking him on trips to town. I do not trust him, so I often avoided it, but I could not always. I’m afraid… that he may be intent to find us again. I was afraid he would take Arthur if we did not leave quickly.” Eleanor blinked, resisting the burning in her eyes. “I am certain he will find us. I do not know when, but I know he will. He knew the address of this home. I do not know what to do.” She held Arthur’s hand, keeping her voice low.
Amelia’s brows had fallen, her face sullen. “Aunt Margaret, will you please take little Arthur and Ella to the nursery to play?” She glanced at Eleanor. “If you approve.”
Eleanor nodded, setting Arthur on the floor. He glanced back at her, his eyes flashing with uncertainty as Margaret took his hand. “Go on. I will see you very soon.”
Arthur followed quietly as Margaret and Ella left the room.
Adam rubbed his jaw, unrest evident in his features. “I am not familiar enough with law to say for certain, but your husband’s father should not be permitted custody of the child.”
“Certainty is what I’m desperately lacking at the moment.”
“Our meeting with the barrister should be able to provide it.” Adam stood, placing his hands on his hips. “But what you need now is a distraction. We shall find solutions to your problems then. For now, you are going into town with Amelia.”
Eleanor’s gaze drifted to the window. She could barely glimpse the sea from their angle, with its gently pulsing waves and pebbled shore, but that was where she wanted to go. She had only seen the unsettled, grey sea of the North for so many years. She wanted her Brighton sea again.
“May we take a walk by the sea too?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Yes, of course,” Amelia said. “We may do anything you wish.”
Eleanor remembered that Arthur was up in the nursery. She hated leaving him for any measure of time. Amelia seemed to guess the reason behind Eleanor’s hesitation, for she touched the sleeve of her ivory gown gently. “Not to worry. My aunt will take care of your son while we are away. Adam will be there too. Arthur will hardly notice the passage of time with Margaret telling him stories.”
Eleanor did not doubt it. Arthur was quite comfortable with other women than herself, but she worried over his comfort in Adam’s company without her nearby.
“We will not be away for long?”
“Only as long as you wish.”
Eleanor was not accustomed to having things her way. The notion felt entirely new and strange. After fetching her bonnet and gloves, she and Amelia set out for the seaside. As they walked, she tipped her head back slightly, letting the rare sunlight kiss her cheeks. The warmth spread through her entire body, filling her with confidence in the future. Yes, perhaps the elder Mr. Quinton would find her and Arthur in Brighton. But at least they were no longer alone, and that was some
thing to take great comfort in.
* * *
A card arrived the next day from Grace, inviting Eleanor, and whoever she wished to accompany her, to her estate, where the barrister would be waiting to discuss any questions they might have.
The timing came quite fortuitously, for Eleanor also received a letter that morning. Extended to her on a salver, she had felt the foreboding slipping through the wax seal and thick foolscap before she had even read a word. It was addressed to Mrs. William Quinton.
You might imagine my surprise and grief when I entered my son’s home to find him dead. Even greater than that was my surprise to find you and my grandson gone. I expect this letter has reached you, for I know of no other place you might have run than to your childhood home in Brighton. As I have reflected upon why you might have fled and why you might have left your husband dead, I have come to a conclusion that I cannot deny. You were involved in his death somehow, and now you hope to escape the consequences.
It is my intention to ensure you do not escape them. The first consequence I will relay to you is that you will surrender your custody of your son to me. Should you choose to evade this request, I will not rest until I find the proof needed to convict you of involvement in my son’s death. I offer you an opportunity to give me my grandson without any further punishment to yourself. The courts will be on my side given your fallen reputation and lack of connections. If you choose not to take this offer, and I successfully have you convicted, then you will be forced to surrender Arthur to me.
Should I receive no reply to this letter, I will come to Brighton myself to ensure you have received it and to collect my grandson. You have never been a worthy guardian to him, and I will not have him living under the care of a murderess.
I await your prompt reply.
Sincerely,
Mr. Quinton
Eleanor set the letter down on the dining table, her hands shaking. Adam had been watching her carefully as she read. Without a word, she passed the letter to him. Her heart hammered, and she quickly turned to Arthur, slicing his ham into smaller pieces as she tried to calm her racing pulse. What would Adam think of the accusations against her?
“What’s wrong, Mama?” Arthur asked around a mouthful.
“Nothing is wrong.” She gave a quaking smile, turning her gaze back to Adam as he read over the page. When he finished, he set the paper down with disgust, sitting forward in his chair. Amelia snatched the paper up from the table, her eyes skimming quickly over the words.
“Do you think Mr. Harrison will be able to help me?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes.” Adam’s voice was strained. “There must be a way to evade these demands.”
Eleanor’s plate had begun to look very unappetizing. She glanced at the clock, clinging to the hope that Mr. Harrison could indeed give her an opportunity to escape Mr. Quinton’s influence. She closed her eyes against the surge of nausea that rose in her stomach. She should have known her swift departure would raise suspicion over the circumstances of her husband’s death. She did not mourn her husband. Not in the slightest. But the relief she had found in his death was now quickly unraveling. His father was an even greater threat if he had the power to take Arthur from her, the one good thing that had come from those years of dread and heartache.
She looked at Adam, dreading the question she knew was coming.
“Eleanor—” Adam began. “Is there any truth to his suspicions?”
She felt her breathing increase in rate, but she stopped it before it could be noticed. “No.”
“You do not know what happened to your husband?”
What was she doing? Why was she lying to her brother? It was as if she was physically prevented from trusting anyone, even her own family. As troubling as it was, she could not convince herself to defy the feeling. “No. I understand how it appeared, but I was not involved in his death.”
Adam stared at her for a long moment before glancing away. “We must find a way to disprove it then.”
Thankfully, less than an hour later, it was time to leave for their meeting with Mr. Harrison. Eleanor left Arthur with Margaret and Ella again, who went to the nursery with little hesitation. Arthur had begun speaking more in the last two days than Eleanor had ever heard him speak, prattling on with Ella about all the things he saw and heard, asking her questions that she had little answer to. Eleanor loved to see him at ease in such an unfamiliar place.
They took the trip to the home of Lord Coventry by coach. The moment they entered the library, a hush fell over the hurried whispers she had heard from the hall. The room was filled with more guests than she had expected, and she felt suddenly self-conscious under so many gazes.
The man who she assumed was Mr. Harrison sat behind an oak desk, a large book sitting in front of him. He smiled warmly, the expression giving her a moment of reassurance. Lord and Lady Coventry sat nearby.
So did Mr. Beaumont.
Eleanor’s eyes settled on him last. He smiled softly. Warmth and comfort spread through her chest, the feeling influenced entirely by a mere smile. Eleanor let her gaze linger on his face for a moment, taking in every drop of confidence she could reap from it.
She sat down on the couch across from Mr. Harrison, and Adam and Amelia joined her.
After Lord Coventry introduced her to the barrister, she withdrew the letter for him to study. The entire room fell silent as Mr. Harrison’s eyes took in the threatening message. His eyebrows rose as he finished, setting the letter down carefully on the table. His green eyes rose to meet hers. “I will assume that his accusations against you are false. Does he hold any influence in society?”
Eleanor shook her head. “He is a tradesman. He does greatly desire Arthur, as he has always thought me unworthy to care for his grandson. He is also living below the means he aspires to. My dowry supplied much of my husband’s gambling funds, but he also used it to buy alternative properties. I’m afraid none of it belongs to me any longer.”
“As of now, one-third of those properties belong to you, and the rest will be Arthur’s when he comes of age. Considering that Arthur is the heir, whoever is in custody of him would have control over those properties. I do not know this Mr. Quinton, but I suspect he is not an honorable sort of man, one that would simply desire to be a guardian for his grandson because of a great attachment to him. Unless, of course, such an attachment was born of the grandson’s inherent wealth.”
Eleanor knew without a doubt that her father-in-law was less than honorable. “Yes, I believe that theory is very plausible.” Her voice came out quiet.
Adam touched the edge of the desk, drawing Mr. Harrison’s attention. “What might be done to stop him? Eleanor was not involved in any sort of crime, so he cannot prove it. Does his threat hold any validity?”
“I’m afraid it does.” Mr. Harrison shifted uncomfortably. “Taking Mrs. Quinton’s reputation into account, she will have a very difficult time swaying the courts to consider her as a better guardian than Mr. Quinton. There is much he could do to give them reason to doubt her ability to properly care for him. With no monetary jointure, Mrs. Quinton will be seen as destitute. There is also the matter of her elopement, and when accusations are raised over a matter of crime, her reputation will only suffer further, whether or not the crime can be proven.”
Eleanor willed herself to remain calm, although unease had begun pounding against her chest. “Is there nothing we can do?”
Mr. Harrison rubbed his forehead, sharing a glance with Lord and Lady Coventry. Mr. Beaumont sat quietly, his brows contracted as he listened.
“Perhaps my influence might be used to aid her case,” Lord Coventry said.
Eleanor felt Adam stiffen beside her, his annoyance clear before she even looked at him. “That will not be necessary.”
“Why not?” Lord Coventry said. “As a peer of the realm I have a much greater influence in court than a tradesman, believe me. I will defend her reputation if it is challenged.”
Mr. Harrison sp
oke before Adam could reply. “Yes, that would be helpful, but I’m afraid it may not be effective enough. You have no notable connection with Mrs. Quinton, other than a short acquaintance.” He took a deep breath, turning his gaze back to Eleanor. “I know this is likely the last thing you would like to hear, but I think it is your most advantageous option. It is imperative that you marry again.”
Her stomach lurched.
“A married woman has a much greater influence and a much greater chance at thwarting accusations such as those Mr. Quinton is intent on giving. I am certain if you marry, and especially marry a man that will connect you to the House of Lords, you will be able to keep your son indefinitely, as well as the land you are entitled to. Yes, you must marry, and you must do so quickly. Ideally before Mr. Quinton decides to take his trip to Brighton.”
Dread poured over her, sending a heavy stone to settle in the pit of her stomach. She balled her hands into fists, intense fear threading its way into her heart. No. She could never marry again. She had forbidden it of herself—she had vowed to never trust a man again. How could she? She had been betrayed by the man she thought she loved. Panic set in fully, sending her heart into a crescendo.
“I cannot marry,” she whispered. “There must be an alternative solution.”
Mr. Harrison sighed. “I wish there was. I truly believe this to be the best way to keep both you and your son safe.”
Adam had been silently listening. “It will be difficult,” he said. “As you have noted, Eleanor’s reputation has suffered greatly. I do not see how this will be carried out in the time it is needed. If a man is found that is willing to marry her, I will insist that I come to know the man’s character thoroughly before allowing him to marry my sister. I will not have her endure the same heartache she already has. He will need to come with many endorsements.”
An Unexpected Bride Page 5