Of Gold & Blood Series 2 Books 1 & 4

by Jenny Wheeler

  As she stood to join in the chorus, she caught Amelia’s eye. Her friend beamed and looked at her intently, communicating silently across heads bowed over prayer books. Catch you later …

  She looked incandescent, eyes sparkling, teeth pearly white and even in a rosebud pink mouth. So what was up now? And poor Aunt Coco. Elanora wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know.

  “Elanora, you’ve got to understand!”

  The gold flecked brown eyes that had always held mystery for him gazed back, uncomprehending. She touched the base of her throat, as if fumbling for a locket or necklace, coming up with empty fingers.

  Eustace took her hands gently in his and held them as he gazed down at her. “Please! Listen to me. I love you! I want to marry you!”

  Her lips pressed together in a flat, tight line.

  “Eustace, I’m sure you believe what you are saying.”

  Her voice had taken on the measured, reasoning tone of an adult talking to someone younger.

  “But it doesn’t change anything. Your father is opposed to us. Don’t you understand that? And he’s not going to change his mind.” She glanced away despairingly. “He’s decided he wants a merchant house heiress to further the Mountfort empire. And I don’t fit the requirements.” Her voice caught in her throat and her eyes dropped to the floor.

  When she looked back up at him her face was set like stone. “I. Don’t. Meet. His requirements.”

  They were sitting in the deserted Trinity nave, partially hidden by a choir screen, while the rest of the Christmas Eve congregation chattered and laughed and sipped sherry and ate fruit mince tarts in the downstairs supper room. He’d been desperate to get her to one side and explain the situation, but the conversation was not going as he’d anticipated.

  “Mother will sort it out, sweetheart. She always does. Don’t you worry. She always does.”

  When he’d uttered such assurances to himself in the past he’d felt warm and full. Tonight, he acknowledged, he was cold and empty inside.

  His mother had taken to her bed after the Astor House party. Perhaps she’d got a chill from being too long sitting around on that stone bench.

  She’d complained of sharp pains in her lower back, and then she’d developed a fierce fever, which he still couldn’t bring himself to mention to Elanora. He was hoping it would leave as quickly as it had come on, with no lasting harm.

  One thing was for sure, in her current state, Connie wasn’t capable of persuading anyone of anything. She was using every ounce of her considerable reserves to hold onto life.

  Elanora’s eyes held the question he didn’t want to answer.

  “Aunt Coco? How is she? And why isn’t she here tonight? She’s OK, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, yes, just a bit under the weather after the Astor House do. Think she stayed out too late and got a bit of a chill.”

  She nodded with a distracted air, as if her mind was already somewhere else, and snuggled into the mantle across her shoulders.

  “Eustace, can’t you see that your father doesn’t listen to Connie like he used to anyway? He’s changed.” She faltered and looked away again. He sensed there was something else she wanted to say.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Your father. William … Eustace, he’s got secrets. You’d be shocked to know …” She turned suddenly, and her eyes locked to his, a fierce set to her jaw. “I didn’t want to know, truly. I was an unwilling confidante. But he’s … he’s being unfaithful to Connie.”

  Eustace felt the uncertainty that had gripped him at her sudden urgency melt away. “Oh Elanora, sweetheart.” He laughed quietly. “It’s what men of our …” He quickly corrected himself. “His station do. You know that, don’t you? It’s not uncommon to go to the pleasure houses. Wives don’t always have to be available. Some might even prefer it that way …”

  He stopped as the color drained from her face. “Not that I’d consider such a thing myself. Never. It’s not like that … But you can’t be too naive about the world’s ways if you’re getting married.” He patted her hand affectionately.

  She drew back from him with a jolt. “No, Eustace, you don’t understand. I don’t mean that way. I mean he’s taking advantage of a young girl from our own group. And she’s with child.”

  He gave an involuntary gasp and shook his head. “Who told you that? It’s lies … It must be.” A red tide had risen in front of his eyes, and he was squinting, rubbing his eye sockets, trying to make the semi-blindness go away.

  “No. I can’t believe it. It’s like that bishop a few years back — what was his name — Oderling or something? He was accused of licentiousness by those women — and it all turned out to be lies to stop him introducing high church stuff. None of our crowd believed them. I bet this is the same sort of thing. Something an enemy has dragged up. It must be.”

  Tears were rolling down Elanora’s cheeks, as she shook her head, sobbing. “It isn’t like that Eustace. Not at all. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to broker a good marriage for you before word gets out and ruins your family’s reputation.”

  He was on his feet in a flash, stepping back from her, their hands no longer within touching distance. His ears roared.

  “Elanora, how could you? I never thought it of you. Never.”

  “Never thought what?”

  “That you’d repeat such lies to try and get what you want. How many other people have you gossiped about this to?” He shook his head admonishingly. “You’re not a kid any more, Elanora. Don’t you realize what harm you’re doing by repeating such tales?”

  She broke down into racking sobs. “They are not tales, Eustace. I’m very sorry, but they are not stories.”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t need to do it, Elanora. I would have married you anyway. But being willing to believe such lies about the man who would be your father-in-law … How could you?”

  He turned to go, suddenly unwilling to be near her. A final thought struck him as he wheeled on his heel to stride out. “And for goodness sakes, don’t go spouting any of this nonsense to my mother. In her current state of health, she might not survive it.”

  Ten

  “So sorry to have missed you yesterday, Elanora. I do hope you are feeling better today.” Amelia smiled sympathetically and presented the cloth-covered basket she carried with a flourish.

  “Cook sent over some Boxing Day goodies for you and your father. She always was so fond of old Henry. She’s packed some of the things she knows he likes — like marzipan, and rum balls.”

  “That’s so kind of you.”

  They were sitting in front of a glowing fire in the drawing room, Elanora in a simple day dress, hugging her stoneware hot water bottle to her chest for comfort. Christmas Day 1847 had been the quietest and loneliest of her twenty-one years. Neither she nor her father felt well enough to go out when they woke the morning after the Trinity Mass, and they’d sent their apologies to the Taylor household where they’d been expected for a quiet family lunch.

  Henry was simply exhausted after his late night, and Elanora, truth be told, did not have the strength to face anyone after her cataclysmic rupture with Eustace. She wanted nothing but to curl up and hide away, nursing her pain.

  She couldn’t believe he’d impute selfish motives to her attempt to confide in him. He actually believed she would cook up false charges against his father in a spiteful attempt to force him to marry her? She felt sick in her stomach at the thought.

  Did he really think he was that desirable, and she was that desperate? She felt hot every time she recalled the way the conversation had barrelled out of control.

  “Are you OK, Elanora? You don’t seem yourself.”

  Amelia smiled at her with her wide, artless blue eyes. It must be wonderful to see the world in such simple dimensions. Elanora felt mean even thinking it, but really. Either Amelia was completely without a smidgeon of soul or she was incapable of seeing beyond her own self-interest. The discomfort her actions c
aused others just did not seem to register.

  “I’m fine, Amelia, just fine, thank you. I think I just caught a little chill on Christmas Eve. I had my mantle on, but maybe I got too damp getting into the church in the snowfall.” She smiled weakly.

  “I hope you haven’t got the same thing Eustace’s mother has. Apparently she isn’t at all well. She didn’t get up for Christmas lunch either, I’m told. She stayed in bed.”

  Elanora’s heart clenched. She’d been so upset she hadn’t wanted to face Connie. She remembered Eustace’s throw-away remark. At the time she’d put it down to his fury at having his father’s reputation questioned.

  As if there were any way she’d tell her beloved Coco about his horrid deceit and cause further family damage. She shook her head to make the thought go away.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll have to call over there sometime soon to see her.”

  “Oh, Eustace says she’s not receiving any visitors at present. Just taking things quietly.”

  “Oh, alright then, fine. I’ll wait till she’s feeling better.”

  The fire popped and a spark hit the wire guard. There was an uncomfortable prolonged silence, and then Elanora felt obligated to ask: “Everything going well with you? Are you still planning to go to Paris in the New Year?”

  Amelia’s face lit up. “Oh, William has been so wonderful! He’s got Mother and Father’s approval for the whole adventure. He’s just been a marvel at getting it all organized. I’m due to leave later in the month. The sixteenth I think.”

  “Oh, that’s just wonderful Amelia. I am so happy for you.” She summoned herself to rise to the occasion and share her friend’s pleasure.

  A shadow of doubt crossed Amelia’s face, like a dark cloud racing with the wind. It was there for a moment and then it was gone. “Do you think so? It’s going to be alright, isn’t it?”

  The anxious high note in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “Sounds like William is ready to ensure it. You’re a lucky girl.”

  The doorbell chimed and they both started.

  “More visitors, by the sound.” Amelia smiled. “I’d better get going anyway. I just wanted to bring over the treats and make sure you were alright.”

  She rose to go, and Boston bustled in. “A visitor for you Miss Elanora. A gentleman by the name of Castellanos.”

  Amelia gave an excited little squeal. “Well, Elanora, that’s a coup! I had no idea you were entertaining the Spanish photographer. He’s a bit of a Don Juan, isn’t he? What will Eustace say?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

  “It’s not like that, Amelia. He’s interested in doing some daguerreotypes, that’s all, but nothing’s come of it so far.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” The dimples either side of Amelia’s mouth showed through her smile. “I’ll leave you two to it then.”

  Santo Dios! The love affair must be going worse even than the last time I saw her, at the Astor House party.

  The American girl was pale, her expression strained. Not so happy about the things she’d just been talking about with her friend either, the one he’d just seen leaving.

  Rafael followed the house manager or butler — with his powerful shoulders hunched forward he walked like a boxer, but his long gray locks and wire-rimmed spectacles gave him the mild look of a bank clerk. Rafael paused in the doorway of the warm drawing room as he was announced.

  Elanora Travers had half risen from her armchair to greet him. She was dressed in a simple V-neck day dress of pale green stripes topped with a floaty shawl in green and gold tied at the neck with a bright satin ribbon. He stopped and took in the sight. Her translucent beauty shone through despite her subdued mood.

  “Miss Travers, I am sorry to call without an appointment, but I was uncertain of how to reach you any other way. Forgive me if this is not a good time.” He swept his arm across his body and bowed low. “I am happy to offer any service I can on this chilly day.”

  She smiled at the obvious gallantry and gestured to the chair abutting hers.

  “Sit down, Mr Castellanos. I have been out of sorts, I admit, but you’ve brought fresh energy with you. Can you stay for coffee?”

  “Most certainly.”

  Elanora looked to the boxer clerk and said, “Boston, would you be kind enough to ask Mrs O’Loughlin for coffee for two? And a little pound cake if she has it.”

  “I imagine you were thinking of that portrait session we discussed, is that right, Mr Castellanos? I’m afraid I am not at my best at the present. We might have to delay a week or so.”

  “A week, my lady? That seems excessive. Are you ill?”

  “Not ill, exactly. Just out of sorts.”

  “I sense your mood is much subdued, Miss Travers. But I assure you if anything, the complexity of your beauty is enhanced even more by it. And yes, I was going to suggest you allow me to make an appointment for our sitting. From my point of view, it can’t happen too quickly. I’m capitalizing on the economic advantage, you see. Guilty as charged.”

  “Guilty as charged.” His finely sculpted lips twitched, and it took all of her self-control not to playfully reach over the arm of the chair he rested in and punch him.

  Didn’t the etiquette books say never make physical contact with a male? She’d be justified, she protested to herself. He was oh-so-gently making fun of her solemnity, of her concern for appearances.

  Once again, her heart lurched at his boldness. Rafael Castellanos y Ordonez — yes even his name was substantial — had the gift of throwing out the most unexpected conversational hooks without causing offense, and she was thrilled by it. Alongside his deep purpose, Eustace was a shadow of weak-willed predictability.

  “Honestly, I beg off for today. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  A tap at the door interrupted the discussion, and Mrs O’Loughlin appeared with the coffee and pound cake. When they’d settled back, he took a few sips of his coffee and put the cup down with a decisive flick of the wrist.

  “Tomorrow then. Can I arrange for a horse coach to fetch you at midday?”

  She nodded. “I’ll have to speak to my father, but that should be fine. We won’t need the horse coach I don’t think — Father has a carriage and Boston can drive me. Father would probably prefer that.”

  “Come to Philip’s gallery. We’ve got it set up to get the best light. I’ll expect you sometime before 1 pm. We have a woman photographer who could be present if that would help you feel more settled.”

  She nodded. “I’d like that. I did so love being there the other night. And having seen what Philip achieved with his portraits, I’ll be curious to see how mine turns out.”

  He looked her in the face, his eyes sparkling.

  “It will be the talk of the town, I promise. For all the best reasons.”

  She couldn’t hide the slight recoil his words prompted. “Oh, I don’t want to be the talk of the town. For any reason.”

  His searching dark eyes raked her. “Why not? You are one of the most beautiful women in New York. Why not be proud of that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t welcome the attention. My father isn’t well …” Her voice petered out, and she was at a loss for what to say next.

  I’ve been shamed in love and I just want to disappear through the cracks? I’m about to be revealed as a ‘fallen woman’ with no protector?

  “It just doesn’t seem wise to be too prominent.” Even to her own ears she sounded feeble.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then she pushed the plate of pound cake to him with a bright smile. “Do have another piece, Mr Castellanos.”

  He ignored the cake and gazed deep into her eyes.

  “Remember what I said the other night about the silence that speaks louder than words? Forgive me my forthrightness, Miss Travers, but I must say it. Any man who lets you slip through his fingers is a fool who deserves to spend the rest of his life in regret. And if there is any such person in your world, sweet Elanora, that is
exactly where he will end his days.”

  She stared at him, her heart in her mouth, tears pricking at the back of her eyes, and fought to retain her composure. Finally, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath, but before she could speak he reached out and gently touched her arm.

  “Please. Words are not necessary. I will let myself out. I will expect you between noon and one tomorrow. And wear something simple and understated. Your magnificent presence is all I will need.”

  Eleven

  “I have to go, Elanora. I have no other choice.”

  Eustace’s throat choked up. “Father says there’s a brigantine sailing the day after tomorrow and I am to be on it.”

  He put his arms around her and drew her to his shoulder; bent down and whispered in her ear, “But please, dear Elanora. Please wait for me. Give me a chance to satisfy my father’s demands and then return for you. I will work it out somehow.”

  She was stiff and unresponsive in his arms, and he stepped back and glanced around uncomfortably, as if expecting to see her father.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean …”

  “It’s alright. I just don’t want Father to come upon us.” She gave a wry shrug. “It wouldn’t look good, you know. His pure daughter in a young man’s arms.” She gave a bitter laugh.

  They were seated in the Travers’ family drawing room with the door to the hallway ajar, so as to reassure Boston — and by association her father — that they were conducting normal social chit chat. It was the day before New Year’s Eve, and the temperatures were still raw out, but the room was warm from the fire that glowed in the metal grate.

  “Eustace …” She glanced uncertainty towards the door and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Eustace, what if I’m in the family way.” She blushed. “You know … from the other night.”

  A tight cramping sensation gripped his lower regions. “You couldn’t be.” His heart was racing at double speed. And then a thought dawned, like an early sunrise, calming him. “Oh, Elanora, you haven’t been talking to that female — whoever she was — the one who made all those dreadful allegations about my father? She hasn’t been filling your head with more nonsense, has she?”