by Fanny Finch
He knew without a doubt that it was her, the woman he had met at the market the other day: Lady Grenshire.
He had known, the moment she had stepped into the ballroom and he had cast his eyes upon her.
Alas, he had been occupied at the moment and by the time the first dance came around, he had not bothered coming to seek her hand.
It was only customary that she danced with her escort. So, he had waited.
At the buffet table, that was entirely a coincidence. He had come to get a refreshment for his mother who had been thirsting after her ceaseless conversations with anyone who would talk and listen.
And there she had been, looking every bit of an angel as she sipped gracefully from her cup of fruit juice.
Even when she had caught him staring, he had been unable to look away. He had been entranced, just as he had told her.
Those golden eyes, amber unlike any he had ever seen, were unmistakable. Only one person could have eyes so unique: Lady Grenshire.
He knew he had made her uncomfortable and he had fought against going to her to offer his sincerest apologies.
Good manners had won. He was simply grateful that the lady had been so forgiving and lovely.
And as he held her in his arms, dancing to the lovely song that played, he had wondered what he was truly doing. He held interest in no woman, and he loved his life that way.
Still, this woman managed to draw him in ways that he did not care for. The most amusing of it all was that he had yet to see her face.
Somehow, he knew without a doubt that she would be beautiful. Nevertheless, that was not what he was after - physical beauty.
Elise had been an extraordinary beauty. He cared more about the heart of a person.
And those eyes… He cared about the secrets in them, the mystery they held. He cared about it all.
She had been in a widow’s attire when they had first met. Tonight, she had worn a bridal white. It was all so confusing.
Could it be that the lady had ended her mourning period a long while ago? If so, why had she chosen to keep on the mourning dress?
Questions and more questions, all of which he desired to be answered. Howbeit, at the time, he had been quite content to be making small talk about the weather and art.
He smiled when he remembered how he had made her blush. His heart had swollen at the sight. Twice, he had made that hue of pink spread through her cheeks.
For reasons he did not want to examine yet, this feat felt like a great accomplishment. One that pleased him to no end.
After the dance, he had seen her off to where she had been standing when he had asked for the dance. Then, he had taken his leave, howbeit regretfully.
He had had to return to his mother, and there had been other matters to attend to.
He had gotten busy for the rest of the night, and had been unable to have another dance with Lady Grenshire, as much as he had wished to.
So, he had decided to settle for dancing with other ladies who had been more than too eager to include him in their dance cards.
His identity had spread easily and many had gotten to know who he was. Nevertheless, as he danced and chatted, he found that he could not keep his mind and eyes off Lady Grenshire.
She too had seemed occupied by the throng of men who had been waiting turns to dance with her.
Charles had willed himself not to be disturbed by this, so he had simply waited until midnight when he would have her attention, and finally be granted the opportunity to gaze upon her face.
As the clock struck twelve, he had gone in search of her. It had taken a quarter of an hour of thorough search to realize that she was nowhere to be found.
She had left, and he still did not know her face.
“You seem awfully quiet, my dear. Why is that?”
He looked away from the window to gaze upon his mother. A small smile began to form on his face before he replied.
“I am always quiet, Mother.”
“Hmm. I could have sworn you were lost in your thoughts. Pleasant ones, even. I believe I also saw you smile once or twice.”
She was fishing, he knew this. He simply wondered what it was that she was fishing for, this time.
“I did?”
“Hmm, you certainly did. Must have been some happy thoughts. I wonder if they concern a certain woman in a white dress and a pretty, silvery butterfly mask.”
“Ah.” So, she had noticed. He should not have put it past this woman.
“I danced with several other women, Mother. She was not the only one.”
“Of course not. However, she happened to be the only woman you could not seem to get your eyes off. Even when you had another woman in your arms, your eyes kept seeking her out.
“Besides that, she is the only one you seemed to have enjoyed dancing with. The others, you looked as though you were counting minutes until the dance had to end. You could barely tolerate them!”
She spoke as though it was so unbelievable. For some reason, he found it amusing. So, when a bubble formed in his chest, he let it out in a hearty laughter.
“Mother, you are something else,” he said, as he recovered.
Her reply was a smug smile. “She really is a beautiful one. I saw you try to look for her when it was time to take off the masks.”
“You were supposed to be enjoying the ball, Mother. Not watching me like a hawk.”
“Is it my fault that my eyes decided to follow my son’s every move?”
He cocked his brow. “Every? I doubt that.”
“Oh well, fair enough. Not every. I did see the important things though. So, tell me, were you able to learn her identity?”
He shook his head. The lie came easily. “No. She left before midnight.”
His mother nodded. “I thought as much. I did not see her afterwards. I would know - she was quite hard to miss in that completely white, lovely dress.”
She sighed. “Well, I am certain she will be at other balls. You shall get to meet her then.”
He said nothing. He simply nodded, with a smile. Then, he went back to looking out the window.
He had no idea why he had lied. Perhaps he simply wanted to keep Lady Grenshire to himself, for as long as he could afford to.
The rest of the carriage ride was silent. The spell held until they arrived home, and he led his mother to the door. The moment the door came open, he broke the silence.
“Go on in, Mother. I shall be right behind you.”
She looked as though she would protest, but ultimately she changed her mind. Her frown got chased away by a small smile and she reached up to stroke his chin.
“Alright, dear. Do not take too long. It has gotten terribly chilly.”
“I won’t, Mother.”
Satisfied by his promise, she went right into the house. Gaius was there to accompany her.
As soon as the doors closed, Charles let out a sigh. His eyes wandered to the sky. It was really bright tonight.
The moon was out in its full glory and the stars twinkled brightly, as though they wished to not be outshone by the moon. It truly was beautiful.
Beautiful like Lady Grenshire. Somehow, he knew she belonged up there, with the heavenly bodies.
After all, she had been dressed like an angel tonight.
Another sigh left his lips, and it sounded so dreamy, that he had to startle himself awake.
What was he doing? Daydreaming about a woman he barely knew? Daydreaming about a woman, at all?
He scoffed. Perhaps it was all the tiredness from being up on his feet for such long hours. He needed a good night’s sleep, and he was only a few feet from getting one.
Finally, he turned to go into his house.
Chapter 11
The week after Eleanor made the decision to stop hiding, was spent going to the seamstress to make and buy new dresses.
It was an enjoyable week, and her brother and Frances were more than glad to help out. Every time they stepped out of the house, she dressed freely in color.
It did not take long for people who knew her to recognize her. Much to her surprise, they were warmer than she had expected them to be.
By the time she had all of her clothes ready, she concluded that it was a good moment to go further than the distance between her townhouse and the seamstress’ shop.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning, warm and bright, and she woke up believing that it would be a good day to spend in the park with her brother and Frances.
She took Olivia with them too, wanting the girl child to have time to play in the sun, run free and talk to other children her age.
The starved, dirty child she had taken off the streets weeks ago, was now a healthy, beautiful, young lady. It thrilled Eleanor’s heart to see this vast improvement.
The ride to the park was done in comfortable silence. Her brother and Frances, who had grown even closer since that night at the ball, were quite content to exchange shy glances. As soon as they arrived at the park, they all exited the carriage.
There were people everywhere. Ladies like herself, women and their children, children of Olivia’s age like she had hoped there would be, and gentlemen who had escorted their ladies, sisters, or wives.
The sun shone brightly in the sky and laughter filled the air. Still, the breeze was cool against their skin.
“Ah, you were right, Eleanor,” her brother said. “It is an awfully nice day for an outing. The weather is truly agreeable.”
“Of course it is. I am never wrong about these things.”
Unable to resist, she lifted her face to the heavens, soaking in the sun.
She was not one of those people who suffered from freckles. Frances was. Nonetheless, her skin often turned red if she remained beneath it for too long.
She knew she would suffer for this, but it felt too good to have the sun shine against her face, with no veil to suffice as a shield.
She felt her brother tug at her bonnet and a bubble of laughter rose within her. She let it spill out.
“I do not want to be seen walking around with a red human. Please, quit soaking in the sun. We must find a shade under which to relax.”
“Oh brother, sometimes you can be so terribly dull.”
“I agree. Come, I think I must have found a place.”
Edwin led them all to a perfect spot beneath a tree. They spread blankets and set up things for a picnic. Eleanor looked at Olivia who was staring longingly at the children who played.
“You wish to join them, do you not?”
The girl looked up at her and lingered before shaking her head. “No, milady. I am happy to remain here.”
“My lady, Olivia,” Eleanor corrected.
“My apologies, my lady.”
“There you go. And you do not have to apologize, Olivia. You may go, dear one, but keep in sight, so that we do not fret over losing you. Also, do well to remember your English lessons. Now, off you go. Have fun.”
“Thank you, my lady!” the girl exclaimed excitedly, and was off the next moment, her peach dress flowing around her as she ran.
Eleanor kept her eyes on her until she reached the group of girls who were huddled together. She watched as a little conversation ensued.
Olivia turned to point at her, causing all the other girls to turn in her direction.
As they saw her, they dropped in adorable little curtsies. Eleanor nodded her head in acknowledgement, smiling at them.
Then, one of the girls took Olivia’s hands and drew her into their circle. It was formal, she had been accepted.
She turned then to look at her party, only to see that her brother and Frances had drawn closer, and were deep in conversation.
The moment looked intimate and she did not have it in her to interrupt. So, she simply decided to look around.
She had gone only a few steps away, when she came across a woman and her children. The oldest could be no more than eight and the youngest, no more than four.
They seemed to be eager to roam free out of their mother’s reach. The lady was apparently not having that.
“Come back here this moment, Brighton. If you must roam, you must roam in a vicinity where I can keep my eyes on you. No further than the arc I have drawn ten feet away. And you, Louisa, behave, would you?”
The woman finished speaking with a sigh. The exasperation in her voice was loud and clear. Eleanor’s heart went out to her.
The boy and girl in question looked as though they truly felt remorseful. Howbeit, the moment their mother reached out to catch them, they stepped out of her reach, and the arc, so swiftly.
Eleanor knew that the lady would not find it hilarious, but it held a certain amusement to her.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips before she could catch it. It was loud enough to gain the woman’s attention. However, she focused on catching her children and bringing them back to their shade.
As soon as she had them in the hands of their maids, she turned to look at Eleanor. Eleanor instantly sobered up, wanting to look as solemn and empathic as possible.
To her greatest surprise, the woman took one look at her, and smiled widely herself. The tension that had held Eleanor’s shoulders stiff, instantly eased out and she felt relieved the woman hadn’t been offended.
“They are quite a handful,” the woman finally said.
Eleanor could not agree more. A smile skirting on her lips, she replied.
“Yes. That they are. Children will be children. You have quite adorable ones. They are such beauties. Like their mother.”
Indeed, the lady was beautiful. She had hair the colour of a flame, and eyes as clear as the skies. They were a familiar grey.
“Ah, flattery. Nevertheless, I thank you. They truly are beautiful, but their father believes himself responsible for that.”
She seemed to consider her words for a moment. “Ironic, when you think how vehemently he refuses to take responsibility for their naughtiness and mischievous nuances. He says all of that are from me.”
She spoke so fondly of her husband, that it was easy to see the love in her eyes and hear it in her voice. It made Eleanor’s chest tighten with ache, and something she refused to label as envy.
“He sounds like quite the man.”
“Oh, he is. Do you have children, my lady?”
Eleanor wondered why she had easily assumed that she held a title. Perhaps, this woman knew her?
No, she did not think that was likely. Perhaps, it was simple courtesy. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself.
“Sadly, no. My husband and I were married for an awfully short while. We were not able to have a child in the year before he died.”
It had come out so easily, that she shocked herself. It was not in her custom to share her life with strangers. Yet, she had felt no reservations in telling this woman about her late husband.
The woman’s face instantly turned soft as empathy filled it.
“Oh dear, that is quite terrible. I am sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine how painful it must have been. I lost my father six years ago. It was hard to heal from the grief.”
Eleanor was grateful that this woman had not tried to trivialise her pain, or to assume that she understood how it felt, like many often did. Despite having lost a loved one herself.
“Thank you. It has been three years. Some days, the hurt is more.”
“I know it never truly goes away, but I hope it lessens further with time.”
Every word held sincerity, and this warmed Eleanor’s heart. Swiftly, she replied, “Amen. Thank you.”
“Please,” the lady invited her, “do join us in our little corner.”
Acceptance came freely from the depths of Eleanor’s heart. “Thank you, once again. You truly are kind, my lady.”
The lady took Eleanor’s hand as she came to stand beside her, and together, they turned to walk to the bench which stood in the shade beneath the tree.
“Pardon my manners. We have been speaking for over ten minutes and I am yet to introduce myself. I
am Mrs. Wentworth. I am no lady, for my husband holds no title. He is simply a successful merchant and happy to be so.”
“As anyone should be, my lady. I have always been taught that nobility is not earned by the title a man’s name carries, but by the content of his heart.
“A man’s heart is what makes him noble. You, Madam, strike me as a noble woman, and though I am yet to meet your husband, he invokes the same feelings in me.”