Chapter 25

Faerie tales were something Eleanor closely associated with her mother. They each had their favorites, but one they both adored with equal fervor was La Belle et La Bête. Eleanor and her mother made the reading experience special by having an indoor picnic and spending the day imagining they were characters in the story. They even wore whimsical gowns, styled their hair, and solely spoke in French to really immerse themselves in the story. The kitchen always packed a French-inspired picnic that Eleanor and her mother ate on a blanket in the middle of the parlor where servants had arranged bouquets of flowers all over the room. They could have had the picnic outside, but their tradition began on a rainy day and they just never changed the location.

However, that was then, before her parents were so suddenly taken away from her. Eleanor lost the will to engage in some activities, but she tried her best to keep some traditions alive for the sake of her parents' memory. In some ways, they were all she had left of them.

She sighed, smoothing a slightly rumpled page. The book was well-loved, with many little notes snuggled between pages and tiny paintings of what she and her mother imagined the characters looked like. The cover was also changed from plain olive green to a deep mauve fabric with gold embroidering, meticulously cut leaves and flowers, and their initials. The book had aged and smelled a little like vanilla, and if she really pressed her nose along the spine, it carried her mother's floral scent. It was faint but still there.

Eleanor hugged the book to her chest and rested her chin on it for a moment. "I miss you terribly, Mama. If only you were here with me."

She also missed her father, even his stern reprimanding. Although affectionate, he had hard rules and boundaries that he preferred to follow to maintain order. He always said there was no happiness without order, which she didn't understand before. Now, she understood that chaos came in many forms, including unnecessary worries and scandal. The fact that someone could whisper a false story into the ears of others and create a scandal without proof was chaotic and capable of destroying lives. Take her life, for instance. Aunt Helen heard a baseless rumor and now feared a scandal was imminent, so much so that she needed absolute control of Eleanor's life to prevent or control the rumor. She believed what she was doing was right, and that was what frightened Eleanor.

Releasing a heartfelt sigh, she lifted her head and shifted on the chaise longue until she found a comfortable spot. A week had passed since her little moment of rebellion, which resulted in further privileges being taken away. But it was worth it—Eleanor kept telling herself this. Being confined to the house also meant not following through on her wish to see Nathaniel and find out where they stood. Eleanor needed to know if he felt as strongly about her as she did about him. Unfortunately, there was no telling when her aunt would release her and when she could see Nathaniel again.

After a fluffing or two of a cushion, moving countless times, and making sure her plate of pastries was nearby, she opened her book and continued reading. There was nothing quite like chewing on a buttery pastry or biscuit while reading a good story. Her favorite version of La Belle et La Bête wasn't the much longer original by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, but the story written several years later by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont. Her version was entirely unexpected and unaccepted by the overtly gendered patriarchal rule of their times, which made it more intriguing.

Eleanor moved onto her side and reached for a biscuit, putting it in her mouth in one bite to avoid crumbs on her dress or chair. She was still mid-chew when her aunt appeared at the door, looked at her, and shook her head.

"Why am I not surprised?" she said, sounding disappointed.

Eleanor had grown accustomed to her aunt's disappointment. Aunt Helen awoke each day hoping Eleanor had come to her senses and was willing to do the right thing, only to find that it was still the opposite. As far as Eleanor was concerned, her aunt should know better than to corner her into a decision she had expressly spoken against.

"Is there something you need, Aunt Helen?" she asked.

"I need you to put that book away and make yourself look more presentable," her aunt replied.

Eleanor didn't budge. "Must I be subjected to this even when I'm alone? I'm not doing anything wrong. You tell me what to wear, where to go, what to eat, when to wake up, when to sleep—am I not worth anything to you as a niece?"

A pained expression briefly crossed her aunt's face before a resolute look settled. For just a moment, Eleanor had seen the aunt she knew and loved, but her fear of a scandal had pushed aside her usual self and put this terrible woman in her place. Eleanor understood her aunt's need to preserve the family's reputation, but this was not the way to do it.

"None of your lip, young lady," said Aunt Helen. "I am not in the mood for your pity-like behavior. You have brought this on yourself by getting involved in a scandal with the duke."

"What scandal!" Eleanor cried, tossing her book aside. "There is no scandal. When could I have possibly done anything worthy of a scandal with the duke? When? I have never been alone with him except for a brief moment when we raced horses. Shouldn't you be more concerned about who started this rumor rather than trying to lay the blame at my feet for something I didn't do?"

Her chest heaved as though she had run up a hill, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She was more emotional than usual because of monthly womanly matters, so anything was liable to set her off into a tirade. Considering she was suffering an injustice, it didn't take much to anger her.

Her aunt's shoulders sagged, and she suddenly appeared older. "Do you think this is easy for me?" she asked. "Can you not see all I am trying to do is preserve your honor and the reputation of this family? We wouldn't be in this mess if you had just listened to me from the very beginning. I wouldn't have to be this stern with you."

Aunt Helen sounded tired and regretful, but Eleanor doubted she would change her resolve. Once Aunt Helen got something into her head, she did all she could to bring it to pass, especially when she believed it was necessary.

"This mess wouldn't have happened if someone hadn't decided to spread false rumors," Eleanor corrected.

"That may be, but what's done is done," her aunt said, straightening and squaring her shoulders. "Now, we are doing what we must to ensure we all get out of this situation unscathed. Never did I think our family name would be the subject of a scandal, and never did I think I would be so disappointed in you. You're an intelligent woman, Eleanor. You know what is at stake."

Hearing her aunt reveal that she was disappointed stabbed her in the heart. Aunt Helen's voice worsened her words and twisted the knife, doing as much damage as possible. It was so painful that Eleanor wished to cut out her heart and send it into the abyss. At least then, she would never experience this feeling ever again.

The sound of a carriage approaching the house seemed to snap Aunt Helen out of her weakness and transform her into a woman with a mission.

"That would be Lord Langston," her aunt revealed.

"Lord Langston?" Eleanor repeated. "I wasn't aware he was coming today."

"Would it have made a difference?" Aunt Helen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eleanor didn't bother to respond because her aunt was right. It wouldn't have made a difference because they would expect her to speak with Lord Langston despite her protests. She might as well brace herself.

Grant appeared moments later with Lord Langston. The men chatted and laughed as though they were old friends. As far as she knew, the pair were acquaintances who moved in similar crowds that sometimes crossed each other's paths. Perhaps Grant's wish to marry her to someone ‘acceptable' had prompted him to become close friends with Lord Langston. Eleanor inwardly shook her head and stood to curtsy. She might find her brother's behavior fickle and loathsome, but maintaining politeness even in moments of discomfort was the Englishman's curse to bear.

Observing her brother's behavior, Eleanor couldn't help but wish to accuse him of abandoning his promises in favor of pandering to the masses. Grant would sooner become good friends with another man than care about his sister's happiness—that wasn't right. Gone was her willingness to understand the reasoning behind his behavior. All she felt was betrayal, hurt, and rage. Some days, she could barely contain her emotions and stayed in her room until she didn't feel like lashing out.

"Now that we're in the same room," Grant began, drawing her attention, "let me be the first to congratulate you."

Eleanor frowned. She saw nothing that deserved congratulations merely because Lord Langston was in their company. Aunt Helen and Lord Langston appeared to know precisely what he was talking about because they were all smiles.

Lord Langston turned to her briefly with a widened grin before looking at her aunt. He appeared pleased and almost triumphant. An uncomfortable feeling slithered down Eleanor's spine and made her release a tiny shiver of apprehension.

"I must thank you for writing to me, Lady Brumley," he said. "I was glad to receive word that Lady Eleanor was amenable to the betrothal. I'm delighted to be here today to discuss our arrangement with Lord Egerton."

Eleanor's mouth fell open as her mind processed Lord Langston's words. She understood everything he said, but she was still confused. She didn't agree to a proposal. In fact, disagreeing with it was the reason behind her lack of freedom. She didn't go through all of this just for her aunt to write to him that she was amenable to the betrothal! Eleanor's nose flared with rising anger. She was already in a bad mood, so this lie was the icing on top of a cake nearly ready to be sliced and served. Eleanor had no notion of what serving the cake would resemble, but she was confident nobody would like it.

Turning to Aunt Helen in question, Eleanor narrowed her eyes when her aunt plastered a smile on her face and grabbed her hand. She squeezed it in warning and leaned closer.

"I know you are surprised and undoubtedly angry," she whispered, "but I know best. I'm doing this for your future. You'll understand once you're older and have children of your own. Nothing is too much when one wishes to protect their children."

Aunt Helen must have thought her words would smooth Eleanor's ruffled feathers, but it did the opposite. She snatched her hand away and clenched both fists at her sides while she struggled not to simply scream and let out her frustrations.

"I must say that this is ridiculous and underhanded," she said as calmly as possible. "Even for you, Aunt Helen."

"I beg your pardon?" Aunt Helen replied.

"You know precisely what I mean, Aunt," said Eleanor. "You have punished me for not agreeing to your plans for my life, only for you to do as you please with no regard for me."

"Eleanor, apologize to Aunt Helen," said Grant, frowning at her. "What has come over you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eleanor retorted. She was no longer concerned that they had a guest in their midst. "I suppose you know I didn't agree to this arrangement, but you're going ahead with it."

"Didn't agree to it?" Grant repeated. He looked at his aunt in confusion. "Is this true, Aunt Helen? You assured me that Eleanor agreed to the betrothal. You said that she wished to marry Lord Langston. Was this a lie?"

Grant's cheeks reddened as he smiled apologetically at Lord Langston and glanced between Eleanor and his aunt as though trying to glean an answer from their expressions. Aunt Helen's face had grown rather splotchy, likely from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. As far as Eleanor was concerned, her aunt was foolish to believe she would simply keep her mouth shut about the lie. This wasn't just some little matter that Eleanor could ignore—it was her life and happiness. Aunt Helen should have thought this matter through. She only had herself to blame for any embarrassment.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Lady Eleanor," Lord Langston began, drawing their attention. "I do not understand why Lady Brumley would lie. This marriage will benefit you—it would seem odd if you refused it. Have you had a sudden change of heart?"

"Benefit me?" Eleanor asked incredulously. "How bold of you to say this so readily, my lord. Has a friendship with my brother and approval from my aunt given you the right to speak whatever you wish in my home?"

"Eleanor," her aunt chided.

She looked at her aunt. "Am I so insignificant in your eyes that even Lord Langston has the right to tell me what will benefit me like a child who needs guidance? Just what have you told him?" She narrowed her eyes. "This is about that ridiculous rumor, isn't it?"

Aunt Helen opened her mouth, but Lord Langston spoke first. "The scandal is common knowledge, Lady Eleanor," he revealed. "Forgive me if you believe I spoke inappropriately, but I am sincerely confused. I thought this marriage would be the best solution given your circumstances."

"And, pray tell, what are these circumstances?" Eleanor asked. "Tell me what you heard, not what my aunt told you."

Until then, only Aunt Helen and Grant had spoken of the scandalous rumor. No one else had mentioned it. Perhaps it was because she had barely left the house since her return to London some weeks ago, or maybe, just maybe, her aunt had lied about the scandal. Eleanor wanted to believe the latter.

"It is common knowledge that you must be harboring a secret that provided His Grace the opportunity to force you into courtship," Lord Langston told her.

Eleanor blinked repeatedly, her mind not quite grasping this entirely new angle of the story.

"I thought I was caught in a compromising situation," she said, briefly looking at her aunt. "Now I'm harboring a secret, and His Grace is using it to force me into a courtship? Why would a man like him wish to force me into a courtship? He is wealthy, handsome, and a duke. If anything, women are clamoring to gain his interest."

Lord Langston stiffened. "What use is his money and title when he is many years older than you? Nearly two decades! That is entirely inappropriate for a woman in your position. You are a beautiful woman from a good family. You shouldn't have to marry a forty-year-old widower. Furthermore, the absence of children should be evidence that he cannot give them to you."

Eleanor wanted to laugh. He sounded like her aunt and brother. Everything foolishly came down to Nathaniel's age. She couldn't understand it. Women married older men frequently. Also, he mentioned it was inappropriate for a woman in her position, which made no sense. If she was so beautiful and too good for Nathaniel, then surely she would have had more suitors knocking on her door. The entire situation was just foolish, and she wished others could see it.

"Whether the rumors are true or not are inconsequential," Lord Langston continued. "I wish to marry you."

"Why?" Eleanor asked. "Why do you wish to marry me? How does a marriage between us benefit you?"

"Frankly, our marriage would be more beneficial to you," he said. "Besides having a questionable reputation, I know you have no other prospects, and I am more suitable than His Grace. Of course, we should discuss the dowry before we move further with the betrothal," he added, turning to Grant.

"Aha," Eleanor whispered so softly that only she could hear herself.

This was about her dowry. Long had she wondered why Lord Langston wished to marry her. He was just like the men who found her unsuitable, yet not only had he approached her, but he'd also gone as far as to ask Grant for her hand in marriage. It had made no sense to her. Eleanor could only imagine he was in financial straits to seek her hand just for her dowry.

Inwardly shaking her head, she looked at her brother and aunt. They wanted to marry her off to a man more concerned about her dowry, while the man who liked her for who she was wasn't good enough simply because he was older. Something was very wrong with the world she lived in.