Chapter 21

Eleanor stood shivering by the stairs since she had handed Sebastian his coat so that he could ride off. She was now in her thin ballgown with its puff-sleeves, and she shivered again and bit her lip against the fact that her jaw was shaking with the cold. Then she walked briskly up the stairs he had indicated. The door at the top was open and she went inside, blinking in the utter darkness of the hallway.

"Is anyone there?" She called, but nobody replied, and she walked down slowly, finding her way with touch more than with sight. Her heart twisted with fear—not for herself, but for Sebastian. How much danger was he facing, riding alone to London?

It was madness.

Thoughts chased themselves around her mind. The road that wound up towards London was notorious for robberies and for attacks by bandits. Sebastian was unarmed, as far as she knew, riding in the pitch darkness. And the human dangers were far from the total of perils that could befall one—unexpected rises or stones in the road that could trip a horse, storms that could soak them both and make Sebastian sick, even the chance of being thrown off if his horse shied off the road. There were too many threats.

Eleanor reached the end of the hallway, where a lamp flickered to light the way downstairs. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes and prayed.

"Please, Lord," she whispered under her breath. "Please, keep him safe."

She hurried down the stairs, shivering with cold.

"My lady!" The butler's voice rang out in alarm. "There you are. The guests were wondering about your disappearance." He was on the stairs, a lamp in his hand. His eyes widened, in concern, as he saw how she was shivering in her evening gown.

"I'm certain they are," Eleanor said in a small voice. "His lordship had to ride to London urgently. I was speaking with him," she explained to him. "It is an incident connected to my brother, who arrived without telling us earlier."

"Yes, my lady." The butler looked concerned, his mouth a thin line.

"I must organise that the guests depart now," Eleanor added, her stomach queasy with tension. "Might you help me?" She looked up at him without trying to hide her fear.

"Of course, my lady." He bowed low. "I will make an announcement at once."

"Thank you," Eleanor breathed. "Tell them his lordship had to ride off on emergency business."

"Yes, my lady. As you wish." He turned in the hallway, hurrying down the stairs.

"Thank you," Eleanor said softly.

She hurried down towards the ballroom.

As she slipped in through the side door, the butler was clearing his throat, making the announcement.

"Ladies and lords," he announced grandly, standing on the stairs. He had evidently said it several times, because the noise had already lessened considerably in the hall, and as Eleanor slipped in to stand beside a tall man in a dark coat, they all fell silent. "I must apologise for the interruption, but his lordship, the Earl of Glenfield, has been called away on urgent business to London. It is an emergency matter in the family."

Muttering broke out as people whispered about what the emergency might be. Around Eleanor, nobody dared say anything.

"I regret to inform you that this ball must be concluded early as a result," the butler continued, when there was relative quiet again in the hall. "Her ladyship required me to ask you if you might all make your way home."

Muttering broke out again and Eleanor took a breath. She needed to be a good hostess. She walked towards the doors, back straight, shivering less now that she was in the ballroom, which was still warm. On her way up the stairs, she could feel the stares of more than two dozen people burning into her. She walked slowly and steadily to the front door, standing there to thank the guests as they departed.

She waited, aware of the stares still on her, the noise lessening as she stood there, the tension of waiting holding her stiffly straight.

She could only see the hall from the corner of her eye, as she stood in the doorway, facing the door that the butler had opened. The wind blew in and she gritted her teeth, shivering again in the cold.

"Here, my lady."

She stiffened, then relaxed, as one of the footmen dropped a thick, fluffy mantle around her shoulders. She breathed out in a sigh of relief and smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Of course, my lady." He hurried off.

She gathered the mantle around her with her right hand and stood where she was, her mind searching to see if she could remember the name of the footman. She was sure she had seen him before, but she couldn't recall if he was one of the men the butler had hired for the evening, or whether he was one of the household staff.

Focusing on the name distracted her from the feeling of being stared at, and a small sound made her turn around. Lord Emsley, the tall man who had stood beside her while the butler announced his news, was walking up the stairs.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmured, bowing low. "It was an enchanting party."

She curtseyed, smiling gratefully at him. If he was managing to exit politely, the guests who had been muttering could not do much less. She smiled at Lady Emsley, who was behind him. A short woman, with a soft heart-shaped face and butter-colored curls, she beamed at Eleanor.

"A terrific ball, my lady. We had a lovely time."

"I'm so pleased," Eleanor said sincerely.

They went out of the door into the hallway beyond, where the footmen were handing out cloaks and hats. More people wandered up and Eleanor curtseyed and exchanged pleasantries, glad that nobody seemed to be upset.

"Good evening, my lady." Lady Anselm sounded distinctly shy.

"Good evening," Eleanor said formally. She curtseyed to her stiffly, and likewise to her son, and then straightened up, feeling relieved. Even the difficult guests were polite.

The people wandered past, and Eleanor curtseyed and wished them well and held the mantle tight around her, her right hand, which clasped it, becoming colder as she stood there, the breeze from the front door of the manor icy and cold as it gusted in with regular icy blasts.

The hall was almost empty, and Eleanor curtseyed to the remaining guests, her vision swimming with weariness. The butler wandered up behind her.

"There, my lady. That's all of them."

"Thank you." Eleanor gazed up at him gratefully. She leaned back against the big doors that he had just shut, her feet aching, her back weary from standing for so long.

The butler looked at her with compassion. "I will supervise the tidying up, my lady," he said gently. "You go and rest."

"We can organise the tidying tomorrow," Eleanor said firmly. "I think we should all retire to bed."

"Of course, my lady." He looked decidedly less weary, like the thought of being able to go to bed a little earlier had restored him. "The kitchen staff will tidy away the food remains, and then we will all make our way to bed."

"Good. Grand," Eleanor managed to say. Her words seemed to drift through her brain slowly, making little sense even to herself. She had been sifting through her stock of polite phrases, bringing them out randomly with the guests as they departed. She did not realize how tired she had become until she tried to walk through the hallway and up the stairs. Every step felt as though her feet were leaden weights.

The footmen in the front entrance-way were tidying up after the guests, closing the big doors and sweeping the floor. Eleanor gestured to them.

"We are all going to bed," she informed them. "Let the rest of the tidying wait until tomorrow."

"Thank you, my lady," a footman said gratefully. He was the one who had handed her the mantle. She smiled at him, and he reddened, looking away.

She went up the stairs to her chamber.

As she wandered down the hallway, she paused outside the drawing room. Someone had left the lamps burning and she went in, thinking that she could fetch a book to read and blow out the lamps. As she reached the mantelpiece, she stiffened. Jonathan was there.

"Brother," she said flatly. He stood up stiffly, a book in his hand. His expression was defensive.

"I couldn't sleep," he said at once.

"Go to bed," Eleanor said tiredly. She felt so exhausted that her thoughts seemed to drift through a thick mist in her brain. "I will see you at breakfast."

"I shan't sleep," Jonathan said tightly.

"You can try," Eleanor told him, a little more gently. "I know it is hard. I am sure you're worried for Rachel and the children."

"Don't mention them," he snapped. "I don't want to remind myself of my worry for them."

Eleanor swallowed hard. "They matter to me, too," she said softly. "I know I'm only their aunt, but I worry for them too."

Jonathan looked at her, his green eyes tight at the corners with tension. "They should be fine," he said stiffly. "If Glenfield can do aught to help me, like he said he would." His voice was hard.

"He is riding to London as we speak," Eleanor said tightly. "I am sure he will do all he can."

"He ought to. His father promised. He didn't keep his promise." Jonathan was pacing now, and Eleanor's heart twisted.

"He's doing his best," she whispered. "He rode off without hesitation and in the middle of a ball."

"He would not have had to if his father had done as he promised," Jonathan countered defensively.

"That is true," Eleanor said, anger at her brother making it hard to force the words out. "But you did arrive unexpectedly in the middle of a ball. And it did make things difficult for him. And me," she added, cheeks flaring. What had people thought when she disappeared in the middle of a ball? Were they whispering about her? It seemed as though the guests were reacting respectfully, but it was not possible to say what rumors might be flying about in the countryside now that they had all carried their thoughts home with them.

"Don't think you need to worry about his reputation," Jonathan snapped. "It can't get much lower."

"What?" Eleanor whispered. Her heart almost stopped. She stared at him. She had heard something like this before—more than once—but nobody had said anything further.

"Of course it can't," Jonathan repeated, cheeks reddening as though he already wished he hadn't said it. "Everyone knows about it." He shot her a hard look, as though daring her to ask him what he referred to.

"About what?" Eleanor said softly.

"About that seamstress he fathered a child on," Jonathan said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just that."

Eleanor stared at him in horror. She felt her senses swim and then she stumbled backwards, the world going dark in front of her eyes, nothing making sense anymore as she fell.