Chapter 12
After moving the kitchen linens three times, Eloise decided it was time to do something about the thoughts rattling around in her head.
She was walking through the front gate of the Stoke Bruerne home before she could change her mind. She’d waited a week already to have this conversation with her mother, and a week was entirely too long. She must stop being a ninny and face the truth.
She’d ruined every last expectation her mother held for her, and now Eloise must bear the consequences.
The only shred of hope remaining was what Gwen had said about her debut season. Was it true that their mother had wanted a season for Gwen? That her only desire was to see her daughters find matches, companions that would accompany them for all the rest of their lives?
Nancy Bounds just wasn’t that practical. Surely Gwen had it wrong.
But what if she didn’t?
What if Eloise had allowed the start of her marriage to be ever so slightly tarnished by a misunderstanding?
She plowed on through the front door, not bothering to shed her gloves and hat and went directly to the south drawing room where she knew her mother and grandmother would likely be at this hour. Startling a maid in the process, she swept down the corridor, dodging a footman who had the terrible timing of coming up the servants’ stairs at the exact moment she passed the door.
The drawing room doors were flung wide when she reached them, and voices drifted into the hallway. Eloise rounded the corner, her speech ready on her lips, when?—
She froze.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had anticipated finding the usual tableau one might find in the south drawing room at this hour. Grandmother Bitsy by the fire, no matter the time of year, quietly knitting and unraveling the same skein of yarn. Eloise’s mother would be nestled in the bay windows on the opposite side of the room, the day’s invitations spread on her lap while she poured over them like a general constructing her battle plans.
But that was not what was occurring in the drawing room.
For one, the furniture had all been pushed aside to make room for a table Eloise was certain had once lived in the library. It was the wide rectangular one at which she’d learned her numbers when she was quite young, and Gwen and Annie had tried to make her lose her place by speaking out loud other numbers to distract her.
On this table was a mess of papers, newspapers, stacks of books, books thrown open and discarded, ink bottles, quills, and—was that a half-eaten sandwich?
Her mother leaned over the table on one side while Grandmother Bitsy perched on a chair at the opposite end, holding a newspaper so close to her face she couldn’t possibly see anything.
“I’ve gone through the papers from last week, but we’ll want to check the ones from the week before. Some of these things take time, and the first sign of them may be further back than we think,” Nancy said, shuffling through the stack of papers in front of her. She collided with the half-eaten sandwich and tossed it aside without pause.
Eloise cleared her throat. “Mother?”
Nancy looked up, blinking as if to clear sleep from her eyes, and it was several seconds before a smile came to her lips, recognition registering in her gaze. “Eloise. Wonderful. You can start on the correspondence from the twenty-fifth.” Her mother held out a bundle of what appeared to be invitations wrapped in a pale blue ribbon.
Eloise didn’t move but instead addressed her grandmother. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”
Grandmother Bitsy didn’t move the paper from her nose. “We’re at war, dear. It’s best you take a chair. This might take a great deal of time.”
Eloise made her way slowly over to the table and took the bundle from her mother for fear the woman would continue to hold her hand out like that for eternity if Eloise didn’t take it.
“I don’t understand. Is this about Viscountess Bowes?” Eloise asked, her eyes drifting between her grandmother, mother, and even the half-eaten sandwich.
“Viscountess Bowes?” Her mother blinked rapidly again as if trying to comprehend. “What has she to do with this?” Her mother set down the stack of papers she’d been going through with a huff. “Why? What have you heard? Has something happened?” She pointed a finger accusingly at Eloise. “Is it her youngest? Did she make a match?” Before Eloise could respond, Nancy scoffed and looked away. “Absurd. The girl is hardly out of the schoolroom.”
“Mother,” Eloise cut in, afraid her mother would launch into her list of reasons why Viscountess Bowes was the vilest woman in London. “I’m not here about Viscountess Bowes. I’ve come here to apologize.”
Her mother took a step back, her mouth opening in surprise. “Apologize? Whatever for?”
“For not marrying Ardley.”
Her mother blinked again, and Eloise grew concerned her mother was developing a nerve disorder. “Bitsy, do you know what she’s talking about?” Nancy turned her gaze to Grandmother Bitsy who had picked up the half-eaten sandwich and was sniffing it suspiciously. She only shook her head, and Nancy turned her attention back to Eloise. “What are you talking about, dear?”
Eloise stepped up to the table and gripped the edge as if it might help get her through this. “I know you wanted me to marry Ardley, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to live up to your expectations. I hope—” She licked her lips and swallowed. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you too much.” Eloise was surprised to find tears clogging her voice, and she held her breath to stop them from falling.
Her mother dropped the remaining papers in her hand and strode around the table, her arms outstretched. “Eloise, darling, you mustn’t apologize.” When her mother’s arms closed around her, tears did come to her eyes then, but she held herself still as if that could prevent her mother from seeing them. Her mother loosened her grip but didn’t let go of Eloise as she said, “You’ve never disappointed me, little one.”
Eloise was startled by her mother’s use of the nickname she hadn’t used since Eloise was a small child. It was as though those two words stopped her tears completely, and she stared at her mother.
“I’m absolutely thrilled that you found someone you care about as much as you care about Tuck. He is a good man, and he will care for you, and that is all I could ever hope for for my daughters. Don’t you know that?”
“But you wanted us to catch the dukes,” Eloise managed.
Her mother laughed. “Oh, but Annie did catch a duke. A duke she loves very much, and one who, I think, makes her happy. She’s wearing colors again, haven’t you noticed?” Her mother sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” She moved back then and took Eloise’s shoulders in her hands and gave her an encouraging shake. “And now you. Tuck is simply marvelous, and I think he makes you happy. Doesn’t he?” Her mother’s brow furrowed for a moment. “If he doesn’t make you happy, say the word, and I’ll have it taken care of.”
Her voice had turned so dramatically ominous Eloise laughed. “Oh no, he makes me very happy, Mother, but…he’s not a duke.”
“So?” her mother asked, one eyebrow going up. “He loves you, and you love him, and you’ve promised to support each other and be there for each other.” Her mother shrugged. “What else matters?”
Eloise stared. “Gwen said you wouldn’t care that he wasn’t a duke.”
“When did Gwen say that?”
“She came to see me earlier. She wanted to—” Again Eloise’s throat closed on the words. “She wanted to tell me I should speak to you because I thought I might have disappointed you.”
Her mother’s laugh was rich. “Oh little one, you couldn’t be further from the truth.” She sobered, her eyes moving aside as if thinking about something. “Terrified me? Yes. Made me rethink my decision to have a third child? Yes.” She looked back at Eloise. “But never disappointed. Never.”
“But we didn’t get both dukes,” Eloise whispered.
Her mother waved a hand and started back around the table. “What does it matter? I managed to marry off all three of my daughters in a single season, and Rosemary hasn’t received a single offer for one of hers.” Her mother threw up her hands in triumph. “I am victorious!”
Eloise couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s obvious glee even if it were at the expense of another person. She gestured to the table.
“Then what is all of this about?”
Nancy glanced over the detritus scattered across the table. “Oh, this. This is for Tuck.”
It was Eloise’s turn to blink. “For Tuck?”
“We’re looking for money, shortcake,” Grandmother Bitsy said from behind a week-old copy of The Gazette. “So you two can go to the North Pole.”
“Money?”
Her mother nodded, scooping up a stack of papers and moving them aside. “In here, we will find the funds Tuck needs for his expedition.” Her mother tapped another bundle of old invitations. “We only must find the patterns. Between announcements, stories covering business transactions, and invitations, we’ll find who has money they’re looking to invest.” Her mother met Eloise’s gaze. “Things aren’t like they used to be. Everything is about business now, and somewhere in this mess is our answer. We only must find it.”
Eloise considered the bundle she’d taken from her mother. “You would do all of this? For Tuck?”
“Of course, I would,” her mother said quickly.
“I plan to go with him, Mother,” Eloise said in a rush. “I plan to go with him to Spitsbergen.”
“I know,” her mother said.
“You know?” This conversation was getting stranger by the second.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” her mother said, straightening a pile of books.
“But it means I’ll be gone for many months. I don’t know if your letters will even reach me. And?—”
“Eloise, dear,” her mother interjected, her tone practical. “What kind of mother would I be if I hadn’t prepared you to fly the nest?” She shook her head. “Do you know how proud I am of you for embarking on this life? Your accomplishments reflect on me as a mother, Eloise. Don’t you know that?” Her mother held out both hands as if to show off Eloise in some way. “And look at you. I would say I did a marvelous job of it. Wouldn’t you, Bitsy?”
Grandmother Bitsy peered around the edge of the paper. “With this one, yes. I am choosing to withhold my judgment on the other two.” She disappeared back behind the newsprint.
Eloise laughed, the only thing she was capable of then as her world seemed to tilt around her, trying to find its new positioning.
“Well then, I suppose I should get started,” Eloise said, setting the bundle down long enough to strip off her gloves and unpin her hat.
She had just set her outer things aside when rapid footsteps in the corridor drew her attention.
“Father,” she said, her surprise noticeable in her voice as the Earl Stoke Bruerne swept into the room, his arms full of?—
Newspapers.
Eloise’s heart tripped.
“I’ve got all the afternoon editions with the exception of The Chronicle.” He dropped the lot of it with a thud in the middle of the table. “They ran a story on that Shepard’s affair. Apparently copies sold out in minutes. But I think this should be enough to get us started.” He shrugged out of his coat then and rolled up his sleeves before taking the newspaper from the top of the pile.
Eloise stared. She’d never in her life seen her father’s forearms.
She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Thank you, Papa,” she said.
He only made a gruff noise of acknowledgment and disappeared behind his paper.
* * *
“He what?”Eloise sat with a huff at the small table in the kitchen portion of their rented rooms.
She was surprised to have arrived home that afternoon to find their home empty, but now that her husband had launched into his explanation of where he’d been, she understood what had kept him away.
“Ardley really had no intention of asking me to marry him?” She didn’t know why she was offended by this. It wasn’t as though she had wished to marry the man. In fact, that had been precisely the problem. But to hear he hadn’t wished to marry her? Well, that was ridiculous. She was a catch. Any marrying mama could have told him that.
Tuck eyed her quizzically from where he sat opposite her at their little table. “You can call him Liam now. He is your cousin after all.”
She stared. “I can only think of him as Ardley. It would be terribly strange to call him anything else.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps you’ll feel better about it when we return from Spitsbergen next spring.”
His words reminded her why she’d been out that day, and she got to her feet to find her bag.
“Does the idea of calling him Liam trouble you so?” Tuck called after her as she raced to find the notes she’d brought home with her.
When she got back to the table, she spread out the sheets of paper that were the result of their day’s work.
She tapped them with one finger. “A list of potential benefactors.” She indicated the name at the top. “They go in order of most likely to fund the expedition to least likely but still not without potential.”
He studied the sheet, but it didn’t appear as though he was truly absorbing what they’d done.
This became clear when he said, “I don’t understand.”
She pushed her chair closer to his. “I went to visit my mother today,” she began and told him what had occurred when she’d found her family in the drawing room sketching battle plans.
He sat back when she’d finished explaining the list between them. “Your mother didn’t actually want you to marry a duke?”
She shrugged. “I suppose she did in some way but not in the way I had believed. It was more that she wanted me to be safe and cared for and most importantly loved.” She picked at a scar on the table’s surface much as she had when Gwen had been there that morning. Lud, had so much really happened in a single day? It seemed entirely unlikely, but there it was. “I guess I never realized how much in love my parents are.” She met her husband’s gaze. “My father’s been behind a newspaper for most of my life. It was really quite surprising how he came up to snuff when needed.”
There was a smile on his face then that reminded her of that first night in the courtyard, boyish and happy, and her heart clenched with hope. It was a funny flutter in her chest, and she realized she hadn’t felt hope since their first engagement of the season when she’d realized the truth of the man who had captured her heart under the stars.
That man laid his hand on hers now, stilling her anxious movements. “I think your parents love you a great deal and want to see you happy.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Happy isn’t always safe. I’m rather concerned at how readily they were willing to send me north of the Arctic Circle.” She wrinkled her nose. “I could get eaten by polar bears, and I’m not sure they even care.”
He laughed, more heartily than she thought warranted, and she eyed him.
“Liam is worried about any polar bear that might encounter you. He’s afraid the victor in that match might not be the animal.”
She pulled her hand from under his, feigning hurt. “Of all the nerve. As if I would hurt a polar bear.” She paused for emphasis. “I would give the creature ample time to leave before I did anything.”
He smiled, but it quickly faded as he glanced back down at the paper in front of him. “Your family was very kind to do this, but…” He met her gaze. “I haven’t been very successful in obtaining a benefactor. It’s the having to speak to them that trips me up.”
She took his hand in hers. “But you have me now. I’ll do the speaking, and you provide the facts. It will work out perfectly.”
He didn’t seem assured, but he asked, “Where shall we start?”
She let go of him to pick up the envelope that she’d found shoved under their door when she’d returned from Stoke Bruerne House earlier.
“With the Earl of Renshaw,” she said, handing him the envelope.
Taking it from her, he frowned. “But the earl has no money.”
“I know,” she said. “But he’s invited us to dinner.”