Chapter Six

“That will do, I think,” Eleanor said. She’d intended it to sound firm, but it only came out tremulous and faint. “I’m sure I’m ready now.”

Aunt Florence had insisted on dressing Eleanor for the ball. The end result was a soft blue silk-and-satin confection, trimmed with feathers and beads, with seed-pearls tipping the capped sleeves, and a pair of matching pink slippers.

It was certainly a beautiful dress, and an expensive present from her aunt, but Eleanor felt… well, overdressed. She thought longingly of her neat, simple burgundy gown, with long sleeves and no trimmings.

“I’ll tell you when you’re ready,” Aunt Florence chuckled, waving away her maids. The women dipped curtsies and flitted away, leaving Aunt Florence and Eleanor alone.

“This… this is very kind of you, Aunt,” Eleanor murmured. “It’s your birthday, and all I got you…”

“You, my dear, spend hours sewing handkerchiefs for me,” Aunt Florence said firmly. “You made that beautiful shawl, which must have taken you weeks to make. Compare that with the dress I bought you, which took me no time at all. Your gifts are greatly superior to mine, my dear girl, let me assure you.”

Eleanor relaxed a little at that. “You’re very kind, Aunt.”

“Yes, I like being considered kind . Now, have you your dance card?”

Eleanor lifted her wrist by way of answer. The dance cards were neat little things, generally attached to a lady’s wrist by a ribbon, and over the course of the night, gentlemen would add their names after they requested to dance. Some particularly fortune ladies might arrive at a party with their dance card already half full.

Eleanor was not, naturally, one of those ladies. She could dance but didn’t particularly enjoy it.

“Well, time for the finishing touches,” Aunt Florence chirped, tweaking a curl into place. Louisa and that husband of hers will be here soon, I don’t doubt. My poor old brother is probably setting himself up in the study, prepared to ignore everyone all night.”

Lucky Papa, Eleanor thought, with a half-smile. She didn’t much relish the idea of sitting with her older sister and brother-in-law all night, and it would be impossible to follow her aunt around – Aunt Florence would dart from person to person with incredible speed, adored by one and all. It was rather impressive, truly.

Aunt Florence moved over to a jewelry box and took out a neat little necklace made of pink coral beads. She strung it around Eleanor’s neck. The coral complemented the soft blue of the gown perfectly, giving the already elaborate dress a whimsical twist. In short, it was beautiful.

“Another gift, my dear,” Aunt Florence said softly, and Eleanor gasped.

“Oh, Aunt, I couldn’t!”

“Of course you would. My mother gave me this necklace – with the matching bracelet and earrings, which I’ll get out in a minute – with the intention that I would one day pass it down to my daughters, as her mother had to her. Of course, I have no daughters, so naturally it will go to my dear niece.”

Eleanor flushed. “Thank you, Aunt. Thank you. It’s… it’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Aunt Florence said wistfully. “And I always felt beautiful when I wore it. Now, enough of this nonsense, and let’s go on downstairs. I have guests to greet, and you, my dear, need to choose a spot where you can observe the eligible gentlemen coming in."

Eleanor groaned. "Oh, Aunt ."

"I'm deadly serious. Everyone is who is anyone will be here tonight, and many of them are suitable gentlemen, all looking for a bride. In fact, the Willenshire brothers will be here tonight, too. William, the oldest, is a duke , and I daresay they’re all up to their ears in wealth now that their father is dead.”

Willenshire. That name seemed familiar to Eleanor. She shivered.

“Is… is one of the Willenshire brothers called Henry?”

“Yes, the second one, Lord Henry Willenshire.” Aunt Florence shot her a knowing look. “Are you acquainted with him?”

Eleanor managed to smile smoothly. “Not in the slightest. ”

“Hmph,” Aunt Florence didn’t seem to believe her exactly, but at the very least, she didn’t press the issue. She continued dabbing a little rosewater behind her ears, allowing Eleanor time to collect her thoughts.

Of course that wretched man would be here. He’d probably corner her poor father and talk business until the sun came up. Eleanor tweaked her gown, suddenly bad-tempered.

What did it matter, though? Aunt Florence’s huge townhouse was going to be packed to the rafters with people. Marcia was going to be there, so what did it matter if some annoying young gentleman with handsome eyes might be there, too?

Thus fortified, Eleanor managed to smooth her face back into a pleasant expression by the time her aunt turned round again.

She was smiling, expecting perhaps another compliment, but Aunt Florence’s smile dropped off her face.

“Aunt?” Eleanor ventured, smile fading. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing, I… you just looked so very much like your mother for a moment there,” Aunt Florence rallied, smiling weakly. “I know some women don’t much like their in-laws, but I always considered myself lucky. Your mother was my closest friend when we were young. I was thrilled when she married my brother, and I’ve always considered them the epitome of a well-matched couple. When she died, I… we… oh, you don’t want to hear this. You were grown-up enough to miss your mother just as hard, if not harder, than the rest of us. But you do look like her, my dear. I hope she’d be happy to see what your father and I have made of you.”

Aunt Florence reached out, her large fingers skimming Eleanor’s cheek, whisper-light, and then the touch was gone.

Then the old Aunt Florence was back, all business-like manners and a wide smile, and she was already sweeping out of the room, leaving Eleanor to scuttle along behind her.

** *

The ballroom and dining hall downstairs were decked out fabulously. Aunt Florence had found endless garlands of greenery, dotted with flowers, and sprawled them everywhere. The place glittered with countless candles, and footmen swept here and there with trays of fine champagne and delicate wines. There was punch, naturally, and a little refreshment table for the guests to amuse themselves with before dinner.

Already, guests were arriving in droves, with Aunt Florence standing by the door to greet them. Eleanor was left alone to wander around as she liked. Louisa was sitting on a chaise longue in the corner, with Jonathan beside her. Eleanor couldn’t see her father, and guessed that Aunt Florence was right about him retiring to the study.

She was just about to consider getting herself a cup of punch – it was strong, and she’d need to be careful, but she wanted to do something – when she heard her name called.

“Eleanor, my dear! There you are!”

Miss Marcia Bellamy was a plump, good-natured young woman, with a pretty, heart-shaped face and red-gold curls springing up every which way. She wasn’t a beauty , which was what somebody said when a lady did not perfectly fulfill the exacting standards of grace, features, and accomplishments, but not even the most jealous young women could say that Marcia did not dress well.

Today, she was wearing a simply cut, elegant gown in green silk, the colour and shape of which flattered her perfectly.

Abandoning her family, Marcia came skittering across the floor in green-and-gold dancing slippers and threw herself into Eleanor’s arms.

“I haven’t seen you in an age,” she gasped, when they finally pried themselves apart. “That wretched business keeps you so busy.”

Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. “I like the business. I like to be doing something.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s get some punch, I’m dying of thirst.”

“Well, if you’re thirsty, perhaps water or tea would be better? ”

Marcia shot her a grin. “Not that kind of thirst, you silly goose. Is that a new gown? It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, a present from my aunt. I’m not sure why she’s giving me presents on her birthday.”

“Oh, Mrs Everett is so very kind.”

They reached the refreshment table, and Marcia scooped up two generous ladlefuls of punch. They sipped in companionable silence for a few moments, then Marcia spoke.

“I must say, I was surprised to hear that you’d be here. You normally hate this sort of thing, Eleanor.”

Eleanor flushed. “Well, I think I was rather strong-armed into it. My aunt requested my presence, and I could hardly say no. And… well, my father wants me to join the Season this year.”

Marcia shot a sharp glance at her. “Really? You always said the Season was an expensive, nonsensical waste of time.”

“Yes, and I stand by that. But Papa wants me to join, wants me to marry , I suppose.” She sighed, shaking her head. Her hair was all done up in curls, spilling down on her neck and over her shoulder. It was nothing like the neat hairstyle she usually favoured, and Eleanor was not sure whether she liked it. She kept throwing her curls back over her shoulder, and then Aunt Florence would come out of nowhere and pull them back into place again.

“I’m going to join the Season this year,” Marcia said carefully. “We’re the same age, you know, and it is time for us to be thinking of husbands, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. Why can’t I think of business instead? Why can’t I think of managing wages and starting new projects, and turning profits? Why do I have to think of a husband and a family, and managing a house instead?”

Marcia nibbled her lower lip. “Well, I’m not sure it’s normal for a lady to like those kinds of things.”

“Yes, only because we aren’t allowed . Mark my words, if ladies could do what they wanted, they wouldn’t waste time in ballrooms, dancing with men they don’t really like.”

Eleanor distracted herself with a long drink of punch. She was aware that she sounded bitter, and not particularly pleasant, but there wasn’t a great deal else to do with the frustration.

And then the Willenshire siblings walked in.

Marcia dug her elbow into Eleanor’s side .

“Oh, there’s Lady Katherine… although of course she’s not lady anything now, she’s Mrs Rutherford. But her husband is such a sweet man. I’m always running into them both at the circulating library.”

Eleanor saw a beautiful, olive-skinned woman in a frothy mint-coloured gown sweeping by, with a handsome man beside her. They were followed by a serious-faced young man, dressed well in deep blue velvet, with swept-back chestnut hair and hazel eyes. He was escorting an older, faded woman in mourning black, who Eleanor guessed was their mother.

“That is the Duke of Dunleigh, the oldest Willenshire brother,” Marcia observed in her ear. “Lots of ladies have their eye on him. Rumour has it that he’s looking for a duchess. Ooh, shall we make wager that one of us can get him to dance with us by the end of the night?”

“If the Duke wants to dance with one of us, he’ll ask,” Eleanor said severely. “Let’s not make his night harder than it needs to be.”

“Oh, you are no fun,” Marcia remarked, without venom. “Ah, that’s Lord Alexander, the youngest of them all. If you listen to gossip, he’s got quite a gambling problem, and drinks entirely too much. Oh, and there is Lord Henry, of course. I’m surprised he’s in the country.”

A plump, cheerful young man strode in, beside a man that Eleanor instantly recognized. Her fingers tightened around the punch cup.

Lord Henry was dressed impeccably well, in a burgundy suit with a red and gold waistcoat underneath. He didn’t smile, not like his cheerful brother, and his cool brown gaze swept over the crowd. She shrank back as he went by, even though they were too far away in the throng for them to realistically see her.

“But perhaps you’re already acquainted with one of them?” Marcia observed, and Eleanor realized, to her horror, that she had been staring.

“I don’t believe so,” she muttered, throwing back her curls again.

Marcia sighed, reaching out to pull the curls forward over Eleanor’s shoulder.

“Do you really think you’ll never marry, Eleanor? ”

“I… I can’t say that I’ve thought about it a great deal.”

“Well, you should.” Marcia replied. “Why do you think, Eleanor?”

To Eleanor’s shock, Marcia sounded almost annoyed. She glanced at her friend and saw an uncharacteristic line of tension between her brows. Marcia sighed, shaking her head.

“You can rail against the unfairness all you like, Eleanor, but the fact remains that the only thing for women to do in our society is to marry. And marry young, by the way. You and I are not considered in our bloom anymore, you know. Gentlemen of thirty and forty consider themselves entitled to marry fresh-faced seventeen-year-olds and think nothing of it. Women of five and twenty are considered old maids . Spinsters. Do you want to be a spinster, Eleanor?”

Eleanor bit her lip. She’d known women who never married, naturally. One family they had known had five daughters, all of whom married, except for the youngest, who was kept home to take care of her parents. Miss Alice led a nice enough life, taking care of her elderly parents and making presents for her siblings and in-laws and nieces and nephews, and never seemed to want anything more.

That is, until her father died, and her mother shortly after. Miss Alice had nothing. Her inheritance had all been used up on her sisters’ dowries, and there was nothing left for her. The house and estate were entailed, so she had to leave at once. To the best of Eleanor’s knowledge, poor Miss Alice, with nothing to recommend herself and no useful skills, was passed between her married sisters and some of her older nephews and nieces in her later life, feeling awkward and out of place, and being constantly reminded of how much of a burden she was.

Eleanor shuddered. Even at such a young age, the unfairness had struck her forcibly.

People had laughed at Miss Alice, called her ridiculous. A wasted life, that was what they called it, as if she’d had the slightest say in it at all.

She swallowed. “I… I don’t think I do want to be a spinster. I just don’t want to be married.”

“Those are the two choices, I’m afraid,” Marcia said, sighing. She set down her cup and looped her arm through Eleanor’s. “ Now, let’s go and talk to some people, shall we? I know a family with a few sons of marriageable age, all decent young men, and I’m fairly sure they’ll ask us to dance. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

Faced with little other choice, and already reeling from Miss Alice’s face and Lord Henry’s smug face across the room, Eleanor allowed herself to be towed away.