Chapter 5 #2
“Rather importunate, but they do believe we have had our honeymoon abroad. I have these two aunts, you see, who cannot bear not to be the first in anything. They will both turn up at the earliest possible moment. I’ve asked Kit to come over this afternoon, in case.
I will be here myself if I can.” He dropped a light kiss on her cheek and was gone.
Eleanor sat still, in a quiet panic. She had forgotten he had a family and that his family would want to inspect an unannounced intruder.
What would they make of her? What could they make of her?
A woman past her prayers—and with a notorious brother—who had married the younger son of their noble house in mysterious circumstances. Abroad…
And her support on this occasion was to be the man who had raped her.
She was very inclined to rescind the invitation to Lord Stainbridge but decided, on this occasion at least, his usefulness might outweigh her repugnance.
There was also the question of her husband’s business, which kept taking him away from hearth and home. He was not, after all, in politics, nor did he have estates or business to manage. She feared his business could only be his French mistress.
Despite her resolve to treat such matters with a level head, Eleanor felt very inclined to smash the delicate china.
With resolution, she pushed the matter aside and applied herself to her breakfast. She could do nothing but endure it, and she had long since learned not to fight hopeless battles.
Instead she returned her thoughts to the family invasion and how to face it.
She must do something about her appearance.
She might as well visit the modiste recommended by Nicholas, though any gowns ordered there would take some time to arrive.
Perhaps Madame Augustine would be able to recommend a passable purveyor of ready-made gowns.
She and Jenny drove out to the address on the card.
The modiste proved to be everything Nicholas had promised, even if discreetly curious about Nicholas Delaney’s bride.
Eleanor gave nothing away except an order for a complete wardrobe.
She was thrilled to leave with two ready-made gowns, which the woman assured her were a vast improvement on her current wardrobe.
Eleanor did not doubt it and did not enquire too closely into their magical appearance.
If some other customer had to wait a day or two extra, so be it.
As Madame Augustine also provided all accessories other than bonnets, and had her business but two doors from an excellent milliner, Eleanor was fully equipped when she returned home.
She immediately changed into a clear green afternoon gown that was accompanied by cream slippers and a fine paisley shawl a full eight feet long.
The outfit certainly did wonderful things for her.
The color made her skin glow and the cut gave surprising grace to her figure.
The fabric was a little fine for so early in the year, and the bodice was a trifle low.
She suppressed a desire that the shawl be a little more substantial and told herself she could have the fires built up instead.
With sudden resolution she asked Jenny to pluck her eyebrows. “And do not heed me if I lose courage halfway, Jenny.”
It did not hurt very much, and when she saw the effect, Eleanor was delighted. Her brows had always been inclined to grow together in the middle, giving her a severe expression. Now they curved away from a clear center, and her eyes looked larger and brighter.
Bearing in mind that there might be callers soon, Eleanor then went to inspect the drawing room, which she had ordered readied for use.
Over-ornate wallpaper and curtains in green and gold would have to go one day soon, but at least the furniture was tolerable.
It was all of simple, modern design, elegantly enhanced by cane and reed work.
Mrs. Hollygirt told her this was all of her husband’s providing.
The housekeeper had obviously supervised a vigorous polishing and done the best she could, but the room had an empty feel. It lacked the ornaments and smaller items that give a room character.
Eleanor turned to the housekeeper. “Are there any pieces anywhere else in the house which could be brought down here, Mrs. Hollygirt?”
After some thought the woman could only suggest that Eleanor look through the attic storeroom, which was full of bits and pieces brought back from her husband’s travels.
“Not that I’ve seen much there as would fit into a Christian household,” the housekeeper added with a sniff.
Eleanor however, ventured to this repository of marvels with hope, for she already knew the housekeeper was hopelessly conservative.
She wondered why the Hollygirts had served her husband for three years when he could hardly be the most conventional employer.
She supposed his long absences made the post attractive.
One advantage of a house under Mrs. Hollygirt’s care was that even the storage room was free of dust. Eleanor did not have to fear for the skirt of her new gown as she explored the neatly stacked objects and boxes.
It would take hours, she decided, to learn all that was here, so she contented herself with picking out a few accessible pieces from among the strange weapons and barbaric costumes.
Eventually the footman was sent below with two oriental vases, a jade box, a small screen decorated with feathers, and a little silver tree hung with coral fruit in a delicate rainbow of shades.
At the same time she made mental note of a few other pieces that would enhance her bedroom and boudoir when they were redecorated.
It was only as she arranged her finds to her satisfaction that she had a qualm about her husband’s reaction toward this plundering of his treasure.
She shrugged it off. She already had a comfortable lack of fear of him.
He might order the objects returned to storage but he would not fly into a rage.
She wondered if she would ever be able to ask him what Desiree had done to cause him to hit her.
Her musings were cut short by Lord Stainbridge’s arrival.
Eleanor could not help but feel uncomfortable at the meeting.
Lord Stainbridge gave Eleanor a searching look that she resented.
He had no right to concern himself over her welfare.
She was surprised to detect a slight dissatisfaction in him and could not account for it.
Surely he could not be displeased that she seemed happy and comfortable?
What a strange man he was. She would have married him had he wished, even if she had known the truth. She had, after all, agreed to marry Nicholas in those circumstances. The earl had not wanted that, but now he seemed to begrudge his brother her company.
After a brief interval of social conversation he asked where Nicholas was. His lips tightened when he heard he was not at home.
“Scarce a day after the wedding and he abandons you? I must speak to him, Eleanor. He must learn to be more thoughtful.” He attempted a tone of light raillery, but it failed. Bitterness was evident.
Eleanor swallowed a sharp response to this unjust complaint. “He had business to attend to, my lord. He promised to return as soon as possible.”
“My brother does not concern himself with business,” said the earl flatly.
Eleanor stared. Had he even noticed this beautiful house? Was he blind to his brother’s qualities?
She was spared the need to respond when Hollygirt announced the simultaneous arrival of the two aunts.
“Lady Christobel Marchant, the Honorable Mrs. Stephenson, Miss Mary Stephenson,” intoned the butler before departing to command the tea tray.
Lady Christobel won the first battle by sweeping in ahead of Mrs. Stephenson.
She had been Lady Christobel Delaney before her marriage to a mere commoner and was a tall, handsome woman with sunken eyes and a husky voice that, surprisingly, carried through anything.
She had been some years older than the twins’ father and was, in many ways, the matriarch of the Delaney family.
Mrs. Stephenson was careful not to follow in Lady Christobel’s train but to allow a moment or two’s grace and make her own entrance.
She had been twin sister to Lady Stainbridge.
Unfortunately there seemed to be a pattern of contrasting twins in the family, for the late Lady Stainbridge had been noted for her charm and vivacity, whereas Mrs. Stephenson was a dull and rather silly woman.
It was said, chiefly by Lady Christobel, that after his marriage the late Lord Stainbridge had increased her portion to get her out of his hair.
She was generally unassertive except in one matter.
Upon her sister’s death, while Nicholas and Christopher were still boys, she had conceived it her duty to watch over them.
Their father had, to their eternal gratitude, foiled this plan but had not managed to totally discourage what she regarded as a sacred trust.
With a wary air, Lord Stainbridge made the introductions and then seated the two ladies so the widest possible expanse of carpet lay between them.
Mrs. Stephenson won the second round by managing to seat herself close to Eleanor.
“I am so pleased,” she said in a vague, breathy voice, “to hear dear Nicholas has settled down at last, my dear. So wild, so thoughtless. Always a trial to my poor sister, Selina. Though of course she could not be brought to see it. She would indulge him so. Such a devoted mother.” She produced a tiny lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her dry eyes.
“Her death broke all our hearts.” She leaned over and whispered, “It was because of it he went abroad, you know.”