Chapter 13 #2
Eleanor glared, but the woman met her eyes. It was Eleanor who gave in. She sniffed back tears and thought back to that scene. She had run through it so often in her mind, trying to make it fit the facts, trying to bend the facts to fit the scene.
“Controlled and discreet,” she quoted at last.
Miss Hurstman stared. “What was that supposed to mean? He was throttling you and telling you to be controlled and discreet? Didn’t he even say farewell?”
Eleanor stood abruptly. “Get out of my house, madam!”
“No need to shout,” said the woman, making no attempt to move.
“I’m Lord Middlethorpe’s Aunt Arabella, by the way.
‘Controlled and discreet,’ eh? Well, you are not doing as he said, are you?
You look a mess, and if you’re not careful, you’ll lose the child.
At the stage you’re at it will be just as arduous as having it at term.
Might as well carry it a while longer, I would have thought. ”
She had struck a nerve. Eleanor was aware she was not doing her best for her baby.
“Might be an inconvenience, though,” mused Miss Hurstman, “when you wish to marry again. If you’re a widow, that is. Perhaps you should lose it after all.”
“You horrible old woman!” gasped Eleanor. “Go! Get out! I want this child!” Eleanor instinctively placed her hands over her bulging womb.
Miss Hurstman was unmoved by her anger. “Then you had best mend your ways.”
She walked briskly to the bell pull and summoned Hollygirt. When he entered two voices clashed! Eleanor’s ordering him to show the older woman out and Miss Hurstman’s asking for a light and nourishing luncheon.
Hollygirt chose to obey the latter.
Miss Hurstman met Eleanor’s glare with a thin-lipped smile. “You hate me, do you? That’s good. It is at least something.” She picked another book from the shelves and chuckled. “Do you read Italian?”
“No,” said Eleanor sulkily.
“I thought not, or your husband wouldn’t have left this around. It’s most improper.”
“He let me read what I wished,” said Eleanor proudly.
“That’s a refreshing change. Mind, I met him once or twice and he seemed a sensible young man. He wasn’t afraid of me, and he could beat me at chess.”
“Don’t speak of him in the past tense!”
“You did,” Miss Hurstman pointed out. “It’s quite legitimate in my case. I haven’t seen him in over two years. I hope when I see him again he’ll not have lost his skill. I’d enjoy a good game.”
“He’s probably dead.”
“Make your mind up, girl! Can’t stand indecisiveness. No one’s found his body, have they? I suppose that woman kidnapped him. He was probably too good in bed for his own good.”
Eleanor felt herself turn red. What kind of woman was this? “But surely she couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t what? Kidnap him? Nothing easier.
Make him bed her? Awkward, I would think.
But if she made a bargain with him, who knows?
Certainly not a poor old maiden lady such as I.
But I do know that if he comes back, no matter what he’s been up to, and finds you on your deathbed, he’s going to feel jolly, ain’t he?
Idiot like him would probably go out and shoot himself. ”
Eleanor was horrified by this all-too-likely prophesy.
“Think about it, you widgeon. Don’t know about the state of your marriage, but he was feeling badly about the way he’d treated you.
And so I should think, silly boy! Then you admit your last meeting to have been unpleasant.
If he comes back and finds you and the child in less than perfect health and happiness he’ll take all the blame onto his own shoulders.
Men do damned stupid things in such situations. ”
Eleanor had successfully avoided thinking about practical matters for days, but this irritating woman was forcing her to use her brain again. She really didn’t know how she felt about Nicholas except that, against all logic, she still loved him.
“He has treated me badly, and that last scene was horrid. If he breezes back full of smiles as if nothing ever happened, I will doubtless shoot him myself!” Thought of such a scene caused a ghost of wistful amusement.
At that moment Hollygirt came to announce luncheon had been laid out in the breakfast room.
“Excellent,” said Miss Hurstman, “I’m famished. Well, Mrs. Delaney?”
Battered by a will that was for the moment stronger than her own, Eleanor preceded the woman to the breakfast room and sat at the table. Still, she could not summon up an appetite.
Miss Hurstman served her a plate of egg custard. “Funny sort of luncheon, but in your state … Eat it up, girl. When you have your strength back we’ll go into the country.”
Mechanically, Eleanor ate a spoonful. “You are a hateful, domineering woman,” she said without heat.
Miss Hurstman grinned. “That’s right, dear. My back’s broad.”
Thus did Eleanor find herself bullied back into life, and eventually she couldn’t help liking her new companion.
Miss Hurstman was an arbitrary and self-willed lady, but she was also intelligent and witty and could discuss all sorts of subjects.
She was totally unlike any woman Eleanor had ever met.
“I’m a black sheep,” Miss Hurstman said one day.
“I never would be a proper lady. At least by now everyone accepts it. I go where I want, do as I please. I embarrass my family, but they’re a kind lot and don’t exactly shun me.
Sometimes, like now, they find me useful.
Though I must say Francis has always been the best of them.
I put it down to the influence of that extraordinary husband of yours.
If he’d been born a girl, he’d be like me.
I like to think if I’d been born a boy, I’d have been like him.
Look at each situation for what it is, not look to see what the others are doing, or for precedents. ”
“Is that what you think he does?” Eleanor asked. She was always willing to talk about Nicholas.
“Don’t know,” said Miss Hurstman curtly, who never encouraged her in this. “I was talking of myself.”
After two weeks Eleanor was restored to vigor, but there was no further news.
September was upon them and most members of the Company of Rogues had been compelled to go to country estates or to attend to other business.
Before he left for the Priory, Francis stopped by.
He was resolutely cheerful and utterly unconvincing.
Eleanor, however, refused to take any steps that would imply that Nicholas was dead.
She had not even communicated with Lord Stainbridge.
There was sufficient cash in the safe to handle expenses for some time, and her generous allowance continued to be paid directly into her account at Forbes Bank.
There was no need yet to take steps to gain access to her husband’s other money.
There was also, she had to admit, little point in staying in town. In early October the two ladies moved to the Somerset estate.
Three days after they had left London, Eleanor’s post chaise swung into a short drive and up to the charming Queen Anne manor house called Redoaks.
Eleanor gave a sigh of satisfaction and smiled at Arabella Hurstman.
This, she instinctively felt, was home. Even if Nicholas never came back, she would cherish this place for his child.
She set about making it home. Jenny and Thomas had accompanied them, and there was a skeleton staff at the house.
Local people were easily hired to fill out the staff.
Though Nicholas had only recently acquired the estate, it was well cared for and the house was in good repair.
There was a home farm that would supply most of their food.
Eleanor was touched to find her husband had sent orders shortly after their marriage that the caretakers be prepared for their arrival in the summer, and had made enquiries about the competence of the local midwife.
There was plenty of work to be done, however, for the house had been purchased in its entirety upon the death of an old gentleman and had been without the care of a mistress for some years. Eleanor was glad of this, for work deadened thought.
She and Miss Hurstman checked generations of linens, discarding some and gathering quite a pile of mending for the evenings.
They investigated stocks of china and bric-a-brac and mentally separated furniture into sheep and goats.
There was no hurry, and not much money, but in time some would be discarded to make way for better.
There was household management to be taken care of, too. They organized jam making and the setting up of preserves and supervised the safe storage of winter vegetables. The large old fireplaces were designed for logs, and so a supply had to be ordered from nearby Yeovil.
They felt no need of a butler, and so Eleanor investigated the cellars of Redoaks herself. The collection was extensive and looked excellent. It said a great deal for the honesty of the staff that it appeared intact.
She was made a little teary when she came across a half-dozen of a pale, dry port such as Nicholas had favored.
She found herself standing and cradling a dusty bottle and put it down with disgust—disgust at such mooning, and at having disturbed the bottle, which would doubtless now take months to settle.
But then, she wondered sadly as she climbed the stairs, who would be wanting it, for months or even years? She returned to managerial tasks. Hard work was safer.
When she was not feeling industrious, Eleanor would sometimes sit in the autumn sun or take long walks along the country lanes, watching other’s industry, be it the local people laying down hay and cider or industrious squirrels with their mouths always full of nuts.
She felt in tune with the simple cycle of survival.