Chapter 22

It finally happened. Eleanor was back in London after spending a few wonderful weeks with the Huxleys. Her brother wasn't at home when she arrived with Ashley, and she was informed her aunt was taking a nap. Eleanor didn't mind. They would probably take the glow she could still feel from not needing to deal with their hassling ways.

"May I get you something to drink, my lady?" Ashley asked.

"Some lemonade with strawberry syrup," Eleanor replied. "And a piece of pound cake with lashings of cream and chopped strawberries. Preferably ones poached in syrup. Wait," she said when Ashley approached the door. "Make that soda water with strawberry syrup. Not too much. The cake will be quite sweet."

"Yes, my lady," Ashley replied.

"Would you add a cheese plate as well?" said Eleanor. "I wonder if they had roast beef for dinner last night? Would you ask the kitchen what cold meat they have? I know I'll want something savory after the cake. All that traveling has made me hungry."

Ashley smiled slightly. "I will ask the kitchen to provide a full tea service with all your favorites. Except the tea will be the strawberry soda water."

Eleanor laughed. "Yes, that sounds perfect. I suppose I should change out of my traveling clothes, but I'll do that after I've eaten."

"Yes, my lady," said Ashley. "Please, excuse me."

She curtsied and left the room as Eleanor slumped in her seat, folded her hands on her belly, and stared at the ceiling. She didn't realize she was so tired until she felt her eyes drifting closed.

"Food first," she muttered, sitting up.

The thought of food couldn't keep her alert, though. Eleanor's eyes grew heavy as though tiny little elves were using all their might to push them down. She imagined the elves in their pointy shoes planting their feet against her eyebrows, grabbing her eyelids, and pushing down. She couldn't shake them off.

"Eleanor!" she heard her aunt cry.

Eleanor shot to her feet like someone had pressed a branding iron on her bottom. "Aunt Helen!" she said, wildly looking around the room.

It sounded like something was terribly wrong, but she couldn't see her aunt anywhere. Her aunt finally appeared at the doorway, her chest heaving with exertion.

"What is wrong?" Eleanor asked worriedly. "What has happened?"

She frowned when she noticed her aunt clutching what looked like several letters in her hands. However, that didn't help Eleanor understand her aunt's behavior.

"What happened?" her aunt repeated. "What happened? She asks what happened as though she didn't cause this mess."

Eleanor's frown deepened. Her aunt looked and sounded upset, if not mad. Considering Eleanor had only just returned from her trip, it went without saying that she didn't know what her aunt was talking about. Apparently, Eleanor was supposed to know, but that still didn't help her understand the situation.

"What are those?" asked Eleanor, deciding to go along with whatever was going on.

It just seemed easier that way, although from the way her aunt was huffing and puffing, easy didn't mean better.

"Didn't I beg you to be more considerate of your social behavior?" Aunt Helen asked. "Didn't I say you should be more careful about what you do and say? And most importantly, didn't I tell you to stay away from the Duke of Devonshire?"

Eleanor stilled. Surely, her aunt didn't know about Nathaniel coming to see her at the Huxleys' home.

"What is this about, Aunt?" Eleanor asked. "I'm afraid I'm in the dark here."

"Darkness smatness," her aunt said rather sarcastically.

The last word had to be gibberish because Eleanor had never heard it before. "Smatness?" she mumbled.

Perhaps her aunt was trying to say smartness, but her tongue slurred a little. Eleanor narrowed her eyes, wondering if her aunt had started drinking a tad too early. It wouldn't be the first time. She rather liked a little brandy in her tea sometimes.

Aunt Helen walked further into the room, threw the letters on the table, and plonked down on a nearby armchair. Her behavior was rather rude and uncharacteristic. That worried Eleanor. She picked up a letter and quickly read it but found nothing concerning. It was the usual sort of polite rejection she often received, especially when her aunt kept pushing her toward people and hinting at getting invited to social events. Aunt Helen already knew the women her age didn't usually associate with her unless forced. All the events Eleanor had attended were hosted by older couples who were not swayed by those younger than them.

"What is so shocking about these letters?" Eleanor asked after she read the fourth one.

They all said the same thing—they were unable to invite her for whatever reason they disclosed. Her aunt must have made inquiries and tried to force Eleanor into their closed groups. It was silly.

"What do you mean what is so shocking?" Aunt Helen asked. "Can you not read? They are shunning you!"

"Aunt, these girls have never invited me to their parties before," Eleanor pointed out. "Well, unless they wished to make me the brunt of their amusements. You know this already."

Aunt Helen frowned and sifted through the letters before handing one to her. "Read this one. It should provide a clear reason why people have turned on you."

Eleanor just stated that the women had never seen fit to invite her before, so she didn't see what difference reading another letter would make. Perhaps the one her aunt handed to her was more descriptive of their disdain for her.

She smoothed it a little and read the letter, briefly noting the good penmanship.

...In light of the rumors and pending scandal, we fear we cannot be associated with Lady Eleanor.

"Rumors and pending scandal?" Eleanor said aloud. "Are they saying I am the subject of a scandal? What scandal? Is this an elaborate joke, Aunt Helen?"

It had to be because Eleanor had never put her honor in jeopardy. Her honor was tied to her family's reputation, so she would never do anything to sully their names.

"What do you mean what scandal?" her aunt asked. "Do you mean to tell me that you do not know?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew," Eleanor pointed out.

Aunt Helen's eyes bulged before she closed them and pressed her fingertips to her temples. The little massage was her way of calming herself and keeping a level head.

"What am I going to do with you, Eleanor?" Aunt Helen asked. "You're throwing all my hard work away."

"Your hard work?" Eleanor repeated. She had never caused her aunt unnecessary problems before, so raising her could not have been hard work. "Forgive me, Aunt Helen, but I am confused. Perhaps it's because I'm tired from my trip. Ashley is going to bring me a tea tray, so perhaps we can enjoy that and discuss whatever this—" she said as she pointed at the letters, "—is about."

Her aunt shook her head and sat back in her seat. "You're just not listening, are you?" she asked. She suddenly straightened and grabbed a few letters. "Did you read them properly?"

"Is there an improper way of reading them?" Eleanor asked.

"Are you trying to sound smart with me, young lady?" Aunt Helen said sternly.

"Aunt, you were the one who questioned my reading ability," Eleanor pointed out. "I could ask if you think I'm stupid."

Aunt Helen flicked her hand dismissively. "You know that is not what I meant."

"I could claim the same thing," Eleanor said.

Aunt Helen huffed. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

Eleanor sighed. "What do you want me to say, Aunt? I just arrived home. I'm tired, probably covered in dust because it hasn't rained in a week, and I had the window open most of the way. Now, you're yelling at me about girls who have never liked me and this pending scandal that makes no sense. At what point was I difficult? I'm confused and, frankly, growing annoyed."

She might as well be thoroughly honest and not beat about the bush. She was too tired to do otherwise.

"Fine, fine," her aunt said. "Perhaps I went about this the wrong way, but I cannot help but be upset. Surely you understand? I do not wish my niece to be a social pariah."

"As opposed to what?" Eleanor asked. "I never had the chance to be anything but a pariah. You forget that I knew most of these women when we were just little girls. One girl decided she didn't like me and managed to convince the others to do the same thing. The influence of these girls only grew as we got older."

"Surely, they do not have control over every young woman in London?" her aunt asked. "The ton isn't a small group, dear. It's made up of many people, many with minds of their own. If you just put effort into letting everyone see how wonderful you are, I'm certain they will like you."

Eleanor snorted. "I value your optimism, but you are wrong about this. Just look at how they worded the letters. Do they not all sound the same to you? Isn't that odd?"

"They're not all the same," her aunt argued.

Eleanor reached for a letter and read it aloud. "Dear Lady Brumley. I hope this letter finds you well. I enjoyed our impromptu conversation last week. Regarding my tea party, I'm afraid the invitations were already sent prior to our conversation, and I cannot adjust the number of guests, or it would upset the balance of the event. I will certainly ensure I include you and Lady Eleanor next time."

"Not all of them were about being invited," her aunt clarified. "I also invited them."

"And every one of them declined the invitation in much the same way," Eleanor replied. "You need to accept the facts, Aunt Helen. These girls simply do not like me. I'll bet this nonsense about a scandal is just another way to ostracize me."

Aunt Helen sighed and tossed the letters on the table. "These girls are turning on you more than ever before."

"They turned on me years ago," said Eleanor. "I'm accustomed to it."

"But I tried so hard to change their minds," Aunt Helen bemoaned. "I have failed my brother and sister-in-law."

Eleanor inwardly smiled. Her aunt was inclined to be dramatic at times. One would think the world was coming to an end when the matter was just a simple one that could be easily resolved.

"You know, you have not made it any easier with your stubborn ways," Aunt Helen added. "If I say left, you go right. If I say jump, you prefer to walk at a snail's pace. There is no winning with you and now look at what you've done."

Eleanor's head lowered, hiding the hurt in her eyes. While she understood that her aunt was upset, it didn't give her the permission to make her seem so...useless. It was like Eleanor couldn't do anything right and was somehow ruining the lives of others. This was her life! They might get somewhere with the situation if they just listened and stopped forcing their ideas of what they believed was good for her.

Fortunately, Ashley returned with the tea tray and kept Eleanor from saying some rather harsh words herself. She didn't want to hurt her aunt, but her patience was waning. There was only so much a person could withstand before they erupted and released their pent-up emotions.

"Thank you, Ashley," Eleanor said. "This looks lovely. It looks like I have a bit of everything. Would you like some tea, Aunt?" she asked. "Ashley can have the kitchen prepare you a pot."

"Tea would be fine," her aunt replied stiffly.

Eleanor's lips thinned, but she managed a smile for her lady's maid, who looked at her with understanding in her eyes. She must have heard some of the conversation with Aunt Helen.

"Shall I prepare a plate for you?" Eleanor asked, sliding to the edge of her seat.

"No, I'm fine," her aunt replied.

Eleanor nodded and loaded a plate with a mixture of sweet and savory treats. She sat back and worked through her plate even though her appetite had somewhat lessened.

"We have supported many of your...fancies," Aunt Helen continued after minutes of silence. "Your brother and I let you read to your heart's content because it made you happy. We allowed you to express yourself and have ideas that young women had no business having. We have let you be yourself. The least we expect is for you to listen to us. Had you listened, we wouldn't be facing this scandal."

Eleanor remained silent and continued stuffing her mouth with food. The fuller it was, the less likely she was to say something undesirable, especially about the unfounded scandal. The pound cake was fresh and tasted delicious with the freshly whipped cream and strawberries. Each time the sweetness grew too much, she popped a piece of cheddar and cold meat in her mouth.

"We never felt comfortable with your idea of becoming a spinster," Aunt Helen continued. "We understood why you felt it was an option, but we have worked hard to ensure that is not your fate. Despite all our understanding and good intentions, it seems you're hell-bent on tarnishing the family name."

Eleanor paused her next mouthful of cake. She kept the fork poised in the air, ready to enter her mouth, but she couldn't eat it, so she just stared at it while she digested her aunt's words. Tarnishing the family name—that was what her aunt said. Syrup dripped off the cake and made a little splatter on the plate. Suddenly, her food didn't look so appetizing anymore.

Eleanor put her fork down and placed the plate on the table. She drank a little of her beverage, but it didn't go down her throat smoothly. Coughing a little, she returned the drink to the table and dabbed at the sides of her mouth with a napkin. Her movements were slow and intentional because it gave her a sense of control in the light of her spiraling thoughts.

"Do you hear me, dear?" her aunt said. "Do you understand what you have done?"

Eleanor nodded. "I am tarnishing the family name by being myself, so essentially, I am a scourge upon the family name."

"That is not what I said," her aunt replied, flustered. "Your choices are problematic. You need someone to guide you, but you're not receptive to our leading and teachings."

"You know that isn't true," Eleanor protested. "I have listened to all your teachings—"

And found some wanting. She didn't add this bit because, unlike her aunt, she didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"I find that hard to believe when you insist on going against our wishes," Aunt Helen said. "You have already been ostracized, but what do you think will happen once more people learn of your dalliance with the Duke of Devonshire?"

"Why would anyone care?" Eleanor asked, her voice rising. "Many young women have married older men! Why is it such an issue for me? Why? Why am I so different?"

"Because you are!" Aunt Helen shouted. "Why would a woman like you need to marry a man seventeen years your senior when you have other options? Marrying older men is only for women who have no other prospects. The duke is a widower, for heaven's sake! He has already lived his life and should settle down with a woman in a similar situation. Why you? You're beautiful, possess a generous dowry, and come from a good family. You can do better."

"I suppose you think Lord Langston is better," Eleanor said bitterly.

"Yes, he is," her aunt replied. "He is a much better man. He can restore your social influence. Can the duke do that? He's a recluse! He's more likely to keep you hidden in his house."

"He has been seen around London quite often," Eleanor pointed out. "Everyone wants him at their parties. Why do they invite him if he is such a terrible man?"

"He is still a duke at the end of the day," her aunt replied begrudgingly. "A wealthy duke with connections. However, that doesn't necessarily make him right for you. Do you know what I've heard some people say about him?"

"What do they say about him?" Eleanor asked. "Other than the fact that he is a handsome and wealthy duke? Because that is what most mothers are concerned about."

Her aunt shook her head. "No, you are wrong. People say the duke only wishes to marry you because he needs an heir and finds you an easy target because you lack suitors. Are you happy about that? Are you happy to know you're an easy target? That a man doesn't need to put in much effort because you're desperate? Do you wish to be known as desperate? Do you not see how embarrassing that is for our family? It takes much effort just to walk around with my head held high because of these rumors!"

It almost seemed as though Aunt Helen was more concerned about her own reputation than Eleanor's, but she didn't want to believe that. Her aunt raised her. She wouldn't be that selfish.

"Did you not think to stop and wonder that other mothers want him for their daughters?" Eleanor asked. "They're wondering why the duke has not paid attention to their daughters. Aunt Helen, look past what others say and consider the matter discerningly. The duke possesses all the qualities of a good husband. His age and widower status are the last things on anyone's mind. They likely started a silly rumor just to remove me as their competition."

Her aunt shook her head. "You may be twenty-three, but you understand nothing of the world. Many are hinting that you misbehaved and compromised your honor. It doesn't matter whether it's true or not. What matters is that people are talking about you and seeking to ruin our family name by association. Can you not understand that? Are you not concerned at all?"

Eleanor breathed in deeply and exhaled it slowly. This conversation was going nowhere, and frankly, she didn't know how much more she could handle. Her aunt had attempted to shame her, hurt her feelings, and force her into believing she didn't know what was best for her own life. Also, her insistence on using this so-called scandal as a reason to obey their wishes was simply ridiculous.

"I can only imagine what would happen a few years from now if you did make the mistake of marrying His Grace," her aunt said, shaking her head. "The duke will likely be stooped and using a cane to walk, and you'll be a social pariah stuck at home looking after him. Is that what you want? Do you think that was what your parents wanted?"

Eleanor's eyes widened. Using her parents to justify one's ridiculous beliefs was terribly wrong, and she had just about had it with Nathaniel's age being a reason for his inability to be a suitable husband and the nonsensical rumor. She was feeling rather saucy at that point, so she said something she didn't plan to reveal just yet.

"Leaving aside that the duke is handsome, wealthy, and intelligent," she began. "I have to inform you that you are wrong about his physical fitness. I went riding with him just the other day, and I must tell you that he is both athletic and virile. No one would think he was forty."

Her aunt's mouth dropped. "I beg your pardon? Do you mean to tell me he followed you to the Huxleys' home?"

"He has an estate in the same area and was kind enough to call on us," Eleanor explained. "He and Lord Richard came to call on us. It was a lovely day, and no one threw around this ridiculous notion that his age is a determining factor in eligibility. Furthermore, if such a rumor about my misbehavior with the duke existed, surely the Huxleys would have heard it? I spent weeks there, and they always get the latest gossip."

Aunt Helen's face had steadily grown red during their argument, but now her cheeks had puffed to twice their size, and the vein in her temple was throbbing rather angrily. She seldom grew this angry. Perhaps Eleanor had gone too far. However, her aunt's demeanor made an astonishing change without warning. Her cheeks deflated; she took a deep breath and smiled before reaching for a piece of fruit. It was strange and concerning.

"Being angry never works with you," she said. "You simply become more stubborn. It was foolish to allow my temper to get the best of me. Forgive me, dear."

Eleanor frowned. The apology was unexpected and sounded sincere, but instead of making her feel better, she was only more worried. Her aunt wouldn't change so suddenly unless she had good reason.

"Lord Langston is coming to see us in a few days," Aunt Helen revealed. "He has asked your brother for your hand in marriage, and he accepted. I suggest you do so as well."

Eleanor stiffened. That sounded like a threat. "Or what?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your voice and words suggest you're warning me," said Eleanor. "What happens if I do not accept Lord Langston's proposal?"

Her aunt sighed. She appeared tired but resigned and determined to see the matter through. Eleanor's body grew tense as uneasiness set in. She knew that look. The same look forced Eleanor to return a puppy after her aunt found it in her room when she was twelve. Eleanor begged her to let her have it, but her aunt wouldn't hear of it. In short, that look didn't bode well for her.

"Not accepting the proposal will force me to take measures," she said. "Grant will not release your inheritance to you, and your pin money will be withheld from you until you come to your senses. I take your honor and our family's reputation very seriously. I will not allow our name to be tainted by your actions."

"What?" Eleanor cried. "You will withhold my inheritance and pin money? Money left to me by my father?"

"They would do the same in my position," Aunt Helen claimed.

"No!" Eleanor cried. "That is a lie. My parents wanted me to find true love above all else."

"You think the duke is your true love?" her aunt asked. "A man you barely know?"

"Love isn't governed by time," said Eleanor. "And I do not know how I feel about the duke yet. I know I like him very much, but I wish to have the opportunity to know if I love him."

"Never!" her aunt cried. "I will not let you ruin your life like that. Marry Lord Langston or suffer the circumstances."

"I will never marry Lord Langston," said Eleanor.

"Then you will become an impoverished spinster," her aunt said harshly. "Is that what you want?"

Eleanor simply stared at her aunt for a moment. Aunt Helen sounded desperate—she couldn't be thinking clearly.

"Grant will never allow it," Eleanor pointed out. "He is my brother and protector. He wouldn't want me to suffer."

"Grant agrees that you must face some hard truths about life," her aunt said. "You cannot have everything your way all the time. It is time to grow up."

Eleanor wanted to lash out and thoroughly shame her aunt, but she held her tongue. She couldn't let this get the better of her. Her aunt would eventually come to her senses, but Eleanor's words would always be remembered. Instead, she stood up and smoothed her dress, fighting back the tears burning her eyes.

"Please excuse me, Aunt," she said. "I feel dirty and tired. A bath and a few hours of sleep will put me in a better mood. Perhaps I will see you at dinner."

"Perhaps you will have something more acceptable to tell me this evening," her aunt said.

Eleanor didn't say a word. She left the room and headed to the stairs, finally letting her tears fall.