by Fanny Finch
“They will take you as their own, as I have. We are one big family here, you’ll see. You are safe now. The days in the cold and sleeping with an empty belly are over.”
Eleanor felt the girl try to break the embrace, so she let go and leaned back.
She looked down at her and found her looking up, eyes searching. Eleanor hoped that she would see the promise of safety and love in hers.
“Why, milady? You did not have to help me.”
Eleanor smiled at this. “Wrong, dear one. We have to help everyone who requires our help, long as we have the ability to render this good deed.”
“I never did thank you for saving me from the trader. I was truly scared. I have heard bad tales of the constable’s place. What they do to thieves like me.”
Again, Eleanor’s heart broke further. “You are not a thief. You were just a hungry child. And you looked so brave, no one would have known you were afraid.”
“I didn’t want them to think it. I didn’t want them to break my spirit.”
“They couldn’t have, if they tried. You did well, Olivia. You stood your ground and held his gaze like a true warrior, and not once, did you falter. You did well. You earned my respect.”
She was so young. Just a year older than the age Eleanor had been when she had lost her mother to that terrible illness.
Exactly the age she had been when her father had brought home another woman that had declared no interest in loving and caring for her, from the onset.
If only Eleanor had had an iota of this girl’s courage. Perhaps, her life would have been different.
“Thank you, milady. You are so kind, thank you. I am sorry about what the trader said to you. It was only because of me.”
For the first time since the whole ordeal had started, Eleanor watched more than one teardrop fall from Olivia’s eyes.
It was her undoing. Wrapping her arms around the child, she drew her into a warm embrace and offered words of reassurance as she rocked her.
The girl shook, sobbing in her arms.
“Hush, dear. It’s fine. You are fine now. And you don’t have to apologize for Mr. Rogers. You have no blame in the matter, only him. You are fine now. You are safe now.”
Before long, the girl was done pouring out her heart and she quieted down. Then, Eleanor allowed her to leave, telling her she had the week to rest and build her strength before assuming her duties.
As the girl left, Eleanor was left alone to her thoughts. She began to take in the room. It had always been one of her favorite places in the house.
It was not long before her thoughts wandered to the man she had met yesterday. It truly had been a while since she had met any man who charmed her so effortlessly like Lord Finchester had.
Yes, he had charmed her. With his gentle manners, sharp sight and mind, kind words, and of course, those eyes.
She had never met him before. But then, it was not as though she knew so many people.
She heard the doors click open, and she turned to see her brother walk into the room.
“I told you to call me if any problem arose,” he said sternly.
Eleanor sighed as she rose from the chair and walked over to the pianoforte.
Well, it hadn’t taken long at all for the news to get to Edwin. She had reckoned that he would hear of it today. Apparently, she had been right. Frances had been quick to inform him.
“A beautiful morning to you too, brother. Sometimes I wonder if this is my home, or the both of ours.
“You have a large townhouse at the other end of the town lying in wait for you. Still, you always manage to be here. Let’s not mention that you move around as though it is your home.”
Edwin came to stand in front of the pianoforte. “Your home is every bit my home, just as mine is yours. You know that, Eleanor.”
She ran her hands over the keys, then looked up at him, smiling sweetly. It was the smile she often used to disarm him when he sought to pick a quarrel with her.
It worked, every time. It did not fail this time either.
Pleased, she watched as the frown lines on his face eased out into a smile, despite his attempt to resist it.
“You cheat once more, Eleanor. You know I cannot hope to remain angry at you when you smile at me like that.”
Her smile widened into a grin, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. “All is fair in love and war, sweet brother.”
He chuckled at this, and she smiled even harder, until her cheeks began to hurt.
There was a long pause and Eleanor savored the moment of silence. She used it to sieve through which of her favourite tunes to play.
“How are you?” Edwin asked, solemnly. She knew what he was asking, and she chose to give him an honest reply.
Edwin was older than her by five summers, but they had always been as close as two peas in a pod.
He was her everything, her best friend before Frances. He had been there for her when the pain of losing a mother had hurt her the most.
He had protected her from the evil deeds of their stepmother. And when the first man she had loved had broken her heart, Edwin had offered his shoulders, arms, and shirt for her to dampen with her tears.
He had abandoned everything to be by her side, when the news of the shipwreck, the one that Benjamin had not survived, had reached her.
Edwin knew her more than anyone else in the world. She knew him just the same.
She pressed the first note on the pianoforte, and then another, and another. She allowed a soft rhythm to be made before she finally replied.
“Less shaken up than I was when it happened.” There was a pause as she swallowed.
“When that veil fell… I felt as though I had been stripped completely naked. I only wished for the ground to open and swallow me up.”
She sighed. “Alas, I cannot hide forever, dear brother. I know that now. Yet, something in me still wishes to try.”
Edwin sighed and came to sit by her side. He picked three keys and played the next line of the tune she had begun.
As he finished, his hands came to rest atop hers.
“London holds many bad memories for you. It was here you watched Mother die. This was the place you received the letter from the first man you ever loved - the man you had thought you would marry - telling you that he had eloped with your step-sister. It was in this exact house…”
He looked around the drawing room, and back at her. “It was in this exact house that you learned of your husband’s awful death. Because all these things happened here, the people of London also came to know.”
He shook his head. “It is only normal that they see you in light of your losses. And it is only normal that you feel naked around them. After all, they have seen you in your worst moments, the times you were most vulnerable.”
Taking a deep breath, he continued. “You are a different person in Grenshire. And that is because of the people there. Nevertheless, I want you to know that it is perfectly alright to feel how you feel. These things, they do not just go away.”
He looked at her pointedly. “More than that, they do not just go away when you run from them.”
He paused again and sighed, then turned fully to look at her. “I contemplated my decision to beg you to come with me to the season for so long. I wondered if it was the right thing to do so soon.”
“It was,” Eleanor said.
“The more I thought of it, the more I was convinced that it was,” Edwin agreed. “I brought you here, more for you than for me, Eleanor. I need you not to shrivel into a shadow of yourself in front of these people.”
His voice had turned fierce. “I need you to truly conquer your fears, and embrace yourself. You are brave and you are strong. Only, you do not realize the extent of your power…”
He swallowed as his voice thickened with emotions. “Yet, you are free to take your time. I know, I know that one day, you will see the need to stop hiding.”
He smiled. “And when you do, these people shall have no ch
oice but to embrace the beautiful, strong woman that you are. When they see you, the countess the people of Grenshire adore…”
His smile widened. “My love, they will love you too. And even if they do not, it is fine. We do not live for their approval, anyway.”
Tears brimmed her eyes and she let them flow as she hugged her brother tightly.
Too many emotions. She had had to go through too many emotions already, and it was only her fourth day in London.
She wasn’t certain how much more she could take. Yet, if her brother believed in her, who was she not to believe in herself?
Her heart swelled as her spirit sung. Edwin had spoken so passionately with all the love he bore for her. How could she love him any less?
“Oh, Edwin! I bless the day the good Lord sent me to you. I do not know what I would have done if I didn’t have you for an older brother. I love you.”
She felt his chest rumble with his chuckle, and she smiled, amidst tears. “And I love you, little sister.”
They remained like that for a moment longer. Then, as they broke apart, they wordlessly began to play a duet on the pianoforte.
As they played, Eleanor felt her burdens fall, and her spirit rise, until she was soaring with the music, as one with it.
By the time they played the last notes, she was in a much better place.
Chapter 7
After that fateful day in the market, Charles got carried away by the urgent matters he had to attend to before the season began in full.
As a duke, there was always one thing or the other, concerning the duchy and the welfare of his people. As a business man who controlled several investments, firms and assets, there was always a business matter to attend to.
In the midst of all of these, his nagging need to learn of the identity of the mystery widow faded away day by day, until she only crossed his mind once or twice a day.
When the first ball of the season finally came around, he was more than happy to take a break from it all.
Indeed, Charles Duncan was not a man who was given to making merry and mixing with the crowd. In truth, ever since the betrayal he suffered years ago, he had withdrawn socially from the London elite life. However, sometimes, he missed it all.
The grandeur and the dining. In times like this when he had a lot on his mind, these social gatherings served as adequate distraction.
So yes, though he had come to London foremost for the business opportunities the season usually presented, he supposed it would do no harm to enjoy the entertainment that it brought as well.
He was below the steps, waiting for his mother who often took forever to get ready for one of these things. After thirty-two summers on earth, he had grown accustomed to having to wait for her, especially since after his father’s death.
Emily Duncan was a woman of wit, charm and great ageless beauty. She liked to look her best, and although she had said no word of it to Charles yet, he knew she was considering remarrying. The thought of it thrilled him.
Six years was a long enough time to honor his father’s memory. His mother, regardless of how formidable she could be as a leader, was a woman whose heart was made to love, and be loved in return.
He knew first-hand how lonely life grew when one ceased to have a love they had thought would last forever.
Many spent the rest of their lifetime searching for it. Others, dreaded it. While he belonged to the latter, his mother was a soul who belonged to the former.
He was all for whatever brought his mother happiness. As for him, he had decided long ago, that he would never find love in the arms of another woman.
He would never seek it, period.
He was quite content with his family and all the love they showed him. His mother, his sister, his butler, his best friend. Yes, he would need an heir, someday. He knew this. For that, he still did not have an answer.
Yet, he was a healthy man, he had time yet to put it off until it became a necessity. He only hoped he would have come up with a suitable plan before then.
Hopefully, a plan that did not involve a loveless marriage.
A movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye, and he looked up to see his mother, a regal beauty, descending the stairs.
She was gorgeous. She exuded elegance, class and beauty. Her dress was a simple one, and modest. A plain lavender, devoid of frilly decorations, which brought out the violet orbs that were her eyes.
Her black hair, which now had streaks of grey, was held up in a lose bun, with soft tendrils cascading down her face.
His heart swelled with love for her. This was one woman he would always love, for she had proven to him, countless times, that the love she bore for him was true.
He had wanted a woman as trustworthy and loyal for a wife. He had truly believed that Elise was that woman. How wrong he had been.
“Would you quit staring and come take my hands?” his mother demanded, in a very light, teasing manner.
He smiled. Walking up to her to take her hand, and help her down the last set of steps, he responded in a similar manner.
“I was wondering who this damsel was, and what she had done to my old, weary mother.”
The Dowager Duchess’ soft laughter rang through the hall as she hooked her arm in the crook of his elbow, tapping him softly with her free hand.
“Ah, that was a funny one, indeed. You are becoming quite the jester by the day. Who would have thought this day would come when you would be able to jest successfully?”
Charles smile widened into a grin until a chuckle he could no longer keep in escaped his lips. He began to lead her towards the door.
“Oh Mother, you are just as wicked with your words, as you are beautiful with your looks. You look gorgeous, as always. All these years and you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.”
The Dowager Duchess snorted, not buying his flattery, though it was apparent that his words secretly pleased her. Charles could tell that much from the big smile that still lingered still on her face.
“You did not seem to think that way years ago. Beyond that, your sister may not be too happy to hear that you think another woman more beautiful than she is.”
“Oh, but she will be. Once she hears that she is a spitting image of you.”
“Ahh. I see. You have got it all settled, have you not?”
“I always do, Mother. Although, it would be best if we do not mention this conversation when we meet her and Thomas at the ball later tonight.”
“Of course, dear son. You can trust me to keep a secret. You know this, do you not?”
The smug look and twinkle of mischief she had in her eyes, were all that Charles needed to be certain that this woman would not keep to her word. She knew that he knew this.
“Oh, I know you can keep a secret, Mother,” he said. Just not in matters like this.”
She took it in good faith, laughing all the way to the carriage.
By the time they got to the carriage, Gaius was waiting, holding the door open for them. He dipped into a deep bow as they came to stand before him, his face bright with admiration.
“Your Grace, your beauty makes the moon green with envy. It makes the stars shine so much brighter, in a bid not to be outshone by you.”
His mother brimmed from ear to ear, clearly pleased. In fact, Charles could swear that her cheeks tinted with a darker shade of pink.
His mother, blushing? He had never given it a thought, for he had simply assumed it impossible. However, it was not something to be completely disregarded.
Could Mother bear feelings for Gaius? And could these feelings be returned?
“Oh, Gaius, the bees would pick a quarrel with you. Your tongue seems to be laden with honey sweeter than that which they make.”
Gaius was swift to respond as he stood upright. “Your Grace, I could never hope to win you in a war of tongues, could I?”
“You could never hope to win me in any war at all, Gaius. Not even a war of arms.”
<
br /> Amused, Charles watched the scene play out as his mother and Gaius went back and forth, each moment convincing him that something had begun to brew between these two.
He doubted that they had realized it yet. For as long as he knew, they had been good friends.
Eventually, he ended the banter, aware that they had to be on their way. Easily, he helped his mother onto the carriage. Then he had climbed in after her, they both bade Gaius farewell, and instructed for the coachman to carry on.