Chapter 8

"What can I wear? Oh, what can I wear...?"

Eleanor rushed to her wardrobe, shutting the bedroom door briskly behind her as she went inside. She let her eye move over the contents swiftly. Her clothing had all been unpacked from the suitcase that she'd brought with her, but only a quarter of her clothes were here—she couldn't fit most of them into the one suitcase, and she'd chosen a selection of things she had thought she might need. A handful of day-dresses, two that might be suitable for high tea, and two evening gowns. The dress she was wearing—the old linen dress—was one she'd had for a few years, and she used for working clothes. She grabbed one of the tea-dresses at random.

"It willhave to be this one."

Hastily she unbuttoned the plain linen dress behind her back and dove into the one she'd chosen, which was a muslin gown in white, decorated with a design of little leaves. It was one of the most modish of her gowns and she buttoned it hastily behind her back and rushed to the mirror, swiftly trying to arrange her hair. There was no time to wait for Miss Whitford to come and fix it—she was needed in the drawing room to entertain their guests at any moment. She grabbed a hairbrush and brushed it back from her face, rolling it into a bun and securing it with some pins the way she and her friend Amelia used to if they'd come back indoors from an afternoon stroll and needed to clean up swiftly for dinner. She sent silent thanks to her friend for the times they'd practiced it.

"Not bad," she told herself, glancing in the mirror. The style framed her face flatteringly. It actually looked quite good.

She grabbed a handkerchief, wiping her face to get rid of the stains, and slipped her feet into indoor shoes, rushing to the door.

As she ran, she thought about Lady Waddingham. She had never received such a strange greeting in all her one-and-twenty years, she was quite sure of it. What did the woman mean? The one, she had called her.

I need to ask Lord Glenfield about that. No—Sebastian.

She blushed as she ran. It was entirely inappropriate to call him "Lord Glenfield" now, but she still couldn't stop thinking of him in a formal way.

She pushed the thought hastily away as she headed up the hallway swiftly to the drawing room. Lady Waddingham had said she'd deal with the guests.

"Ah! Lady Glenfield!" A voice greeted her as she paused in the drawing room doorway. Eleanor swallowed hard. It was a sweet voice, but she had heard such voices before in her encounters with the Ton and she knew it was not sincere. She turned to look at the people who spoke.

"Good morning," she greeted the two women who stood a few paces away inside the drawing-room. They had been sitting on the chaise-longue while Lady Waddingham, who stood just beside them, poured tea. Now they were all standing. Her eyes moved across the guests. One was a woman of around her mother's age, she guessed, with thick brown hair streaked with gray and a thin, heart-shaped face. The other was a woman of around her own age with curly auburn hair. Both of them curtseyed.

"These are Lady Aldford and her daughter, the Honorable Miss Hatfield."

"Good morning," the two women greeted her as Lady Waddingham gave the introductions.

"Yes. Yes," Lady Aldford murmured. "This is the new Lady Glenfield. We came to pay our regards, Lady Glenfield. You are so new in these parts, and we thought we would come to welcome you."

"Yes. Thank you," Eleanor murmured. She felt tense, looking around the room. Sebastian's auntwas beside her and she found her presence oddly reassuring. Eccentric the older woman undoubtedly was, but Eleanor had no sense of any ill will towards herself coming from Lady Waddingham. These women, on the other hand, were watching her curiously.

They probably came to see me because they have been gossiping for days, she thought crossly.

She drew a breath.

"It must be strange here, after living in London," Lady Aldford continued. "You are from London, yes?" she asked, those dark eyes fixed with interest on her.

"No," Eleanor said honestly. "No, I'm not. My father came from Yorkshire originally. We moved to London when I was a baby. And we don't really live in London, but a mile or two outside it, in Woodford House."

"Ah! Ah, I see," the woman murmured. She looked entirely confused.

"You must have been often in the same circles as the earl," the young woman stated. Eleanor grinned, nervous and nauseous and trying not to let them see either.

"No," she answered again, deciding to tell the truth. "That is to say, I never met him at Almack's, or any of the balls there."

"But you were in London for the Season?" the woman asked insistently, staring at her in a kind of horrified disbelief, as if nobody could possibly miss a London Season.

"Yes," Eleanor agreed. "Yes, I was in London for the Season."

"Oh. Oh." Lady Aldford smiled at her. Both of them seemed relieved. The terror that she may have moved in different social circles to any of them seemed relieved somewhat. "That is good."

"Yes," Eleanor said mildly. "I suppose it is."

She fixed them both with a hard stare. The baroness seemed to take her meaning—that Eleanor knew perfectly well that they had been judging her—because she looked down for a moment as if she felt ashamed. Eleanor looked sideways and she thought she saw a glimmer of delight in Lady Waddingham's gaze, but it must have been her imagination, because it was gone almost as quickly as she saw it.

"May I invite you to sit down to tea?" Eleanor asked, giving the women another hard look. Lady Aldford nodded.

Her daughter, Miss Hatfield, frowned at her mother. "Mama?" she murmured, as if she was unsure and trying to communicate with her mother without Eleanor overhearing.

"What is it, Addie?" her mother asked with exaggerated patience.

"Mama...well...should we? I mean..."

"Of course, daughter." Lady Aldford replied. "It was only when Lord Glenfield was unwed that we could not visit here."

Eleanor gaped, looking from one to the other. "What do you..." she began to inquire, but Lady Aldford reddened awkwardly, and interrupted at once.

"Apologies, my lady! I just, well...visiting here unaccompanied before was...well...given the reputation of the earl, we did not..." she mumbled uncomfortably.

"We couldn't visit here without Papa," Miss Hatfield interrupted. "And seeing as Papa has been deceased for many years, well..."

"Come, my dear," Lady Waddingham interrupted immediately, her voice loud in the sudden silence. "Would you not like to pour tea for the guests?"

Eleanor stared at her earnestly. She needed to know the truth about what the women were saying. Was Lord Glenfield's reputation so bad that a respectable woman would not set foot into his house without a man to chaperone her? She turned around and looked hard at the women.

"Yes. Let's sit down for tea," Lady Aldford said at once, clearly embarrassed by her unexpected confiding in Eleanor.

"Yes, thank you," she murmured. She glanced at her daughter, as if insisting that they stay. Her daughter looked at Eleanor.

"Of course. Thank you, Lady Glenfield," she said before taking a seat. They all seemed to have decided to be courteous—much more than they normally would be, to make up for the rudeness of earlier.

"Lady Glenfield can tell us about springtime in London," Sebastian's aunt suggested, looking at Eleanor with a surprisingly kindly gaze. Eleanor nodded.

"Yes, I can," she agreed. She felt a little sick, her thoughts drifting in and out of the topic at hand as she tried to answer the women's questions about what was modish and who in the Ton had attended which balls.

She poured tea for the guests and answered their polite questions, and her headache was slowly getting intolerable as they sat, sipping tea, her head whirling with thoughts.

"My lady?" the butler appeared in the doorway. "Another carriage has arrived. Shall I show the guests in?"

"Please," Eleanor said, heart leaping. Perhaps more guests would make matters less uncomfortable.

They sat in awkward silence, but fortunately only for a moment or two, as before she had expected, the butler appeared with three more ladies.

"Lady Elworth and her daughters, Lady Philipa and Lady Betty."

Eleanor stood and curtseyed as she was introduced to the new guests. The women settled themselves at the tea-table and Eleanor poured tea for everyone. She couldn't stop thinking about what the ladies had said earlier, even though the conversation swiftly moved to other things.

"Poor Cousin Stella," one of the women commented sadly.

"What happened?" Eleanor asked at once, feeling her heart twist.

"She had a terrible time in childbirth," the young woman's mother confided in her.

"Oh." Eleanor felt her brow furrow. "But she and the baby, they..."

"Yes. They both lived. She is recovering now," Lady Elworth explained.

"Good. Good," Eleanor sighed. "And I am sure she is happy to have a dear little baby to look after." She felt her heart twist again, but with a feeling of affection that was almost painful. She loved babies.

"Yes. Yes, she is," Lady Betty told her at once. "And it is a dear little thing. So small and pretty."

"Good. Grand," Eleanor said enthusiastically. She was about to say something, aware of Lady Waddingham's curious gaze at her as she spoke about the baby, but Lady Bettie spoke again.

"I wonder when Stella will be ready to attend a party. It's so dull without her."

"I'm sure she will be on her feet again soon," Eleanor assured her. Rachel had not spent much time at all recovering after the birth of her three children, walking about the very next day after each birth.

The conversation changed to other things. Eleanor was aware of Lady Waddingham watching her closely again, and she swallowed uncomfortably, wondering why.

"It has been a pleasure getting to make your acquaintance," Lady Aldford said after what felt like an age. "But I regret we must return to the house before dinner. Thank you," she added, and Eleanor was surprised to see no judgement in her eyes as she stood and curtseyed. She sounded sincere.

"Thank you for coming," Eleanor answered, and was surprised that she actually meant it, at least in part. It seemed like gossip had been circulating in the area for days about Lord Glenfield and his recent decision, but these women had decided not to indulge in idle talk but to see for themselves. That made them nicer than the others, who had doubtless been spreading loose talk but had not come to see for themselves if their stories had any bearing on reality.

"We ought to depart too, Lady Glenfield," Lady Elworth commented as she stood up, smoothing her long rose-colored skirts.

"Thank you for the visit," Eleanor replied.

Lady Waddingham stood, walking to the door with her and the guests, and Eleanor eyed her gratefully. They all walked down together, andEleanor curtseyed as the two women curtseyed and then she waved from the step as they clambered into their coach and set off.

Eleanor stood in the drive for a moment, and Lady Waddingham, who stood silently beside her, turned to her with a smile.

"I'll be off too, my dear," she said, dropping the briefest curtsey.

"Must you depart so soon?" Eleanor asked, wishing Lady Waddingham would remain a little longer. It would be good to talk to her and find out why she had been studying her so carefully in the discussion.

"I should," Lady Waddingham replied, then frowned, her expression changing from the lighthearted one of earlier to fearful worry. "Please take care, my dear."

"Take care?" Eleanor asked, heart thudding. Lady Waddingham seemed so serious, the lighter mood of earlier dissipating suddenly.

"Yes. I would hate any harm to come to you."

"Any harm?" Eleanor asked, alarmed.

"Yes."

"Because of Lord Glenfield?" she whispered. Her heart thudded with horror at the thought of what a situation she might have been pushed into.

"Oh! No. No, dear," Lady Waddingham said, chuckling warmly. "No. Not on account of Lord Glenfield. No. Not at all. Not really," she added, frowning.

"Not really?"

"No. It's not his fault, my dear. It's not his doing that the line carries a curse."

"What?" Eleanor demanded, horrified. She felt a shiver move down her spine. Curses were no joking matter at all. Though many people in her circle would scoff at such things, she knew better. Growing up in the countryside, one heard things spoken of that people did not hear about in the city. She swallowed hard, trying to find words. Her heart thudded in her chest.

"I have said too much. I apologise," Lady Waddingham replied instantly, her gaze sliding away from Eleanor's face. "I should be on my way."

"My lady..." Eleanor began, hoping she would stay just a second longer to talk.

"Take my best wishes to Sebastian and tell him I will be delighted to call on you both again soon."

"Thank you," Eleanor murmured, seeing the older woman was already walking to the door, determined to exit before saying anything. "I will."

She walked with Lady Waddingham down the steps to the coach, and after helping her up into it she turned around and went back indoors.

"Whew."

She stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling exhausted. The time fending off the women's barbed questions had drawn out every drop of her strength. Her mind was reeling, and she was desperate to find answers to her own questions.

She stood where she was, her eyes closed, her thoughts drifting with exhaustion. She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them again and went to the stairs. She hadn't had breakfast yet—just a slice of a sweet loaf at tea. Her stomach twisted with hunger, and she went on upwards, deciding to look for the breakfast room herself if nobody was there to show her where it was.

She wandered up the stairs, her mind full of a tumbling array of questions to which she needed answers. Lord Glenfield clearly had a terrible reputation as Jonathan had informed her when they spoke days ago. And this new information Lady Waddingham had raised, about a curse of some sort...that was another matter altogether.

She reached the top of the stairs and was glad to see the butler in the hallway, his trolley full of tea-things.

"Where might I find the breakfast room?" she asked shyly.

"Oh! My lady. It's just here. Follow me," the man said, his face lighting up with a grin.

"Thank you," Eleanor murmured politely as he led her into a small room, the walls plastered and partly paneled for warmth, the window covered with a filmy curtain that let warm morning sun flood into the space. The smell of toast hit her at once and her stomach knotted with hunger.

"Of course, my lady," the butler replied, seeming surprised at her politeness. "I will fetch you a pot of warm tea."

"Thank you," Eleanor said again, feeling touched. In a world of cold, indifferent strangers—or friendly but eccentric ones—the butler was one of the only people she'd met so far who seemed to have no secrets.

He smiled at her, seeming a little confused, and hurried out to fetch the tea. She sat at the table, buttering a slice of toast and thinking.

She needed to find answers. Perhaps the household staff was a good place to start.

The butler arrived with the tea but before she had a chance to ask him anything at all, he hurried to the door.

"I must make arrangements for Lord Glenfield and his father—some men are coming to discuss investments in a shipping venture."

"Oh." Eleanor felt her heart twist a little sadly. Since her arrival here, Lord Glenfield seemed preoccupied with business. For a man who had a terrible reputation, he seemed to spend a lot of time discussing investments and other estate matters, and she found herself frowning as she decided that she had to ask him some questions, and soon.