Chapter 9
It was time for Amy to leave to join her mother and her sisters in Weymouth, all danger of infection now being over.
Fresh sea air had been prescribed for the convalescent.
Nicholas and Lord Middlethorpe were both there to see her off, and Lord Stainbridge happened to be in the house at the same time.
Nicholas gave Amy a light kiss. “We will miss you, Amy. We will be dull here now, two old married people.”
“That makes you sound like elderly, indigent relatives.”
“You make me feel like an elderly indigent,” he replied.
“Eleanor is not so old yet,” Amy replied as she gave Eleanor a warm hug. “I will write often.” She chuckled as she looked down at Eleanor’s slightly-rounded abdomen. “I suppose you will soon have to give up going into Society. Will you go into the country?”
“Will I have to go into purdah, then?” said Eleanor. “I think I shall continue to go about ‘big-bellied like the wanton wind.’ Will that shock people? It has certainly shocked Kit.” She gave him a satirical glance. If Lord Stainbridge chose to invade her home she felt entitled to prick at him.
Nicholas stepped in. “Kit is easily shocked,” he said calmly, but it was a reproof. “And you shouldn’t break such important news to him so casually.”
Eleanor had forgotten that the earl had no idea she was confirmed to be pregnant.
Now, in company, she had no choice but to suffer Lord Stainbridge’s awkward congratulations and fussing before she could wave goodbye to Amy and Francis and escape to her room.
She saw Nicholas take Lord Stainbridge into the library.
She supposed the twins were cozily discussing their pregnancy and felt an unusual urge to smash something valuable.
Goodness, she was likely to turn into a termagant at this rate.
She wondered if it was just the strange effects of pregnancy or if she was undergoing a permanent change of personality.
Nicholas had not liked the way she’d sneered at his brother, and she did care for his good opinion.
He loved his brother despite his weaknesses, and she supposed she should try to bury the past in the interests of family harmony.
Eleanor decided she would go down and allow them both to assuage their consciences by being concerned and considerate and making grandiose plans for the child.
As she approached the study she realized the door was slightly open; she could clearly hear their voices. They were discussing the child and she wished to hear what was said. A quick glance assured her there was no servant in the hall and so she stayed where she was, unashamedly eavesdropping.
“You have no right to this child, Kit.” As usual, Nicholas’s voice was level and calm.
Not so Lord Stainbridge’s. “It may be mine. It will certainly be my heir.”
“You have forfeited any right you might have had to it. If you want an heir, you are free to get one for yourself.”
“What sort of life can you give to a child? What sort of life are you giving Eleanor? It must be raised at Grattingley where it belongs.”
“And Eleanor? She might have something to say to that.”
“She will be with the child, of course.” Lord Stainbridge sounded thoroughly exasperated. “For heaven’s sake, Nicky. You can’t expect her to stay here alone.”
“Then perhaps it is my place to stay here with her,” said Nicholas calmly. “Or am I welcome to establish myself at Grattingley too?”
There was a silence.
“You know perfectly well,” said the earl at last, “that you will be off on your travels. That was the agreement, that you not be bound.”
“I wasn’t aware I was forbidden to put down roots if I wanted to.”
“You want to stay?” Bewilderment was clear in Lord Stainbridge’s voice.
“I might.” If anything, Nicholas’s tone was nonchalant, and Eleanor found she hated it. “After all, it may well be my child, you know, and I am not altogether sure I would want my child to be raised by you.”
This was said without rancor, but the deafening silence was a scream of reproach. Eleanor found she had raised her hand to her mouth.
“I can’t believe you said that, Nicky.” Lord Stainbridge’s voice was full of pain.
“Kit, we are very different,” Nicholas said, sounding weary. “I will not have any child of mine brought up in the straitjacket of conformity you use to protect yourself.”
“How dare you!”
The strain must have been unbearable, for Nicholas too became heated, almost desperate. “Easily! I claim my right to stay.”
“I forbid it!”
“Go to hell!”
Horrified, Eleanor glanced around the hall, sure the raised voices would soon attract the curious. She couldn’t believe the imperturbable Nicholas had finally lost his patience.
Lord Stainbridge’s voice cracked with intensity and pain as he retorted, “You are not fit to raise a child. Could you drag yourself away from the brothels long enough to pay it any attention at all?”
Eleanor stopped breathing. So he knew. Did everyone?
“Perhaps fatherhood will provide me with a new interest. Don’t make a cake of yourself, Kit. This is simply none of your affair.”
Lord Stainbridge made an attempt to match his brother’s tone. “How, then, do you intend to provide for your child? I don’t know where you find the money to live as you do now. Gambling, perhaps?”
“It can be lucrative. But I see no necessity.”
“Do you not? Well, you may soon. I warn you, Nicholas, I will use the same weapon again.”
“What?” Nicholas’s incomprehension was obvious, and then he laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Oh, as you did when you ordered me to marry Eleanor. I was tempted to call your bluff then. Would you really cut me off without a penny?”
“Yes. I want Eleanor and the child.”
“Then you should have married her. I am sure she would have preferred it … at the time.”
“You know I could not marry. Oh, damn you! What are you doing? You don’t want her. You treat her abominably. Give her up, Nicky. She will be happier with me.”
“Do you really think so? Perhaps you forget the way she mocked you earlier. Need I remind you she has no reason to feel kindly toward you? Besides, do you really think you could compete with my abilities and charms?”
Eleanor knew she was turning red at the hateful tone of his voice.
“She has too much spirit for you, Kit,” her husband continued. “I defy you. Do your worst, for I am staying. If you’re correct and I tire of domesticity, then I will happily cede all rights to Eleanor and her child.”
Eleanor bit her knuckle in an attempt to control the anguish, the rage she felt. She would kill him. She would kill them both!
Slowly.
Realizing she was actually shaking, she stumbled back up the stairs to fall weeping on her bed.
She was a novelty to him, a new game of which he might well tire.
She resolved that if it should come to that, she would never, ever be passed meekly, along with her poor child, into Lord Stainbridge’s care.
Somehow she would maintain her independence.
The cynicism of the conversation came back to her like a bitter taste. Her husband was revealed at last in his true colors. He was a clever cozener, a charming rogue. She had seen him manipulate others. How could she have believed she was any different?
Well, there would be an end of that. Let him go to his brothels and his French mistress. Eleanor would maintain the facade, for she had promised him that, but she would have no more of his false attentions. Moreover, if he tried to manipulate her or the child, she would resist him to the end.
She was unable to face the thought of meeting either of the brothers until she had composed her thoughts, and so she ordered her carriage and went with Jenny to Hookham’s. No book appealed to her tormented mind, however, and she returned home empty-handed.
She wished she never had to see Nicholas Delaney again.
When she returned home he was out. Eleanor smiled wryly. Not seeing her husband was likely to be easy to arrange. She would fill her time with such a round of engagements that she would rarely be in her home except to sleep, and in her bed Nicholas would never come near her.
Now that Amy was gone, Nicholas had reestablished some of the distance between them, and if they did chance to meet, Eleanor set the tone and kept it cool. She felt sometimes he eyed her with concern, but he never intruded a personal comment, and she maintained a front of busy cheerfulness.
One day, however, it happened they were together for breakfast. They both sat in pools of silence perusing the newspapers.
Eleanor glanced at him and realized how tarnished the gold was becoming.
He was thinner, there were shadows under his eyes and new lines on his face.
His life of dissipation was fading his tan to sallow.
Her heart ached. How could he do this to himself?
There was nothing she could do, however, to turn him from disaster.
And so it was another reason to avoid him, so as not to have to face his self-destructiveness.
Eleanor did try, despite the despair that sometimes gripped her, to take care of her health as he had asked.
She did not stay out late at night; she ate regular meals although her appetite was poor; she daily drank three cups of goat’s milk—still warm from the animal brought down the street; and she took frequent walks in the fresh air.
One day as she strolled in the park with Jenny she thought back to that early day when she had believed she was being followed. Perhaps it was because she was thinking of it that she became convinced they were again being watched.