Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“At last,” Elinor mumbled under her breath.
Fielding House was in the bowels of London, placed far away from the wealthy neighborhoods, and the fashionable ways of the ton.
It was as though it had been shoved away to the back of the city, too unsightly, and Elinor always ached for that, because nobody knew the joy that went on in the workhouse despite the poverty.
When one did not have a lot, one made do with what one did have, and her reason for being there was what she could give those without a lot of joy to claim.
Hurrying her way to the back entrance of Fielding House, Elinor gave her usual four-rap knock to alert the housekeeper it was her.
The door swung open, and Mrs. Agnes Neal stood there to welcome her.
“Elinor,” she said warmly, holding out her arms. “What a lovely surprise. You know, I never know when you can make it to teach these children, but when you are here, it is always a pleasure. They all very much look forward to it.”
“It is the same for me,” Elinor said, embracing her tightly. Mrs. Neal had become as much a warm mother figure as she could have. “Doing this makes very dark nights brighter again, and no doubt it will lift my spirits to get me through tomorrow.”
“Yes, but I do worry about how much sleep you must lose.”
“Anything is worth it for what I get to do here.” She smiled, tugging off her cloak, and Mrs. Neal took it to hang up in the kitchen.
“Can I make you some tea? I have not long taken the pot off the stove.”
“That would be lovely, thank you. Although, you look rather tired, Mrs. Neal. I can fix my own tea.”
“Ah.” The older woman tried to wave off her worries, but Eleanor drew closer, looking at the tired circles beneath her eyes and the strands of gray she swore had not been so prominent the last time Elinor had visited.
“It has been a harder day today because we are all trying to make the workhouse more efficient ahead of the new owner turning up. Don’t worry yourself—”
“I shall,” Elinor insisted. “You go up to rest, and I will handle the children alone tonight.”
“No, I can’t—”
“You definitely can. No doubt you will have a long day tomorrow, too, so take the rest where you can get it.”
“Oh, I can’t, knowing you are sacrificing your own sleep to be here.”
Guilt slid into Elinor’s stomach as she thought about the privilege she would have of resting the following day unless her stepmother ordered her to go somewhere.
“Please, Mrs. Neal,” she insisted. “Go and sleep.” Elinor gave her an encouraging nod, playfully making a shoo motion.
Reluctantly, the woman gave in and trudged out of the kitchen, her footsteps heavy. Elinor went about fixing her tea before heading up to the children’s room.
As always, the smell hit her, and she fought the wave of emotion that always threatened her whenever she thought too hard about the conditions of the cramped room that really should not have held as many children as it did.
On her way, she finished her tea and gathered the slates and chalk, gathering everything she needed right before she rounded into the room.
“It is Elinor! Elinor is back!” As soon as the first child, Toby, a small, too-thin boy with a mop of black curls, spotted her, the whole, full room of children cheered as they rushed towards her.
Elinor’s simple dress skirts were tugged on and swished as they swamped her with hugs.
“Good evening,” she laughed. “Well, this is a most welcome return. How are you all today?”
There was a chorus of answers, indistinguishable with the layers of voices, and she laughed again.
“Did you bring Newton this time?” Toby asked.
“I am afraid I could not coax him from his spot on my pillows tonight, but I will make sure to catnap him for next time. Now, line up so I can hand you your slates. Are you ready to do some learning?”
More cheers went up, and Elinor’s heart thudded.
When she was younger, she had loved her studies with her father but hated it with her tutor who had not understood her endless curiosity.
She had despised when it came time for her lessons, but these children actually were excited.
They waited for her, enjoyed what she could provide, and as much as they were her lights in the dark, she was theirs.
It had been that for about a year, and Elinor, despite knowing how much she risked by being there, would never stop.
Not for anything.
The children lined up, jittering and eager.
They were all so well-behaved, and there was only minimal bickering as one child tried to shove his way to the front of the queue.
Slate by slate, Elinor equipped them all, but frowned when she noticed that Alice, one of the younger children, perhaps five or six, had a nasty bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” Elinor asked, crouching down to her height, brushing a light hand over the bruise. Alice’s mouth puckered into a pout.
“I—I was bad. I got in the way.”
Elinor shook her head both in refusal and disgust at somebody potentially raising a hand to a child. “You are never in the way, and especially not in my classroom. Here is your slate, and I can make sure you sit near me today, all right?”
Alice cracked a tiny smile, nodding. “Yes please.”
She skipped off to wait for Elinor to call the lesson to a start.
“Right,” she announced, “you all did excellently during your previous lesson. I know it has been a short while, but I am positive you will all do just as well today. Billy, you must differentiate your letters a little more when you write so there is distinction and readability.”
“Yeah, Billy!” one child called out. “You just draw scribbles.”
“Now, now,” Elinor chuckled. “We do not need to poke at one another. Billy, you are still doing very well. Let me know if you need more help.”
And then Elinor called the lesson start, all the tension of the evening with her stepfamily finally draining away.
This was her purpose. This was where she thrived and was supposed to be. Surrounded by children who doted on the education she secretly brought them rather than play the blushing lady in a ballroom, hoping to be noticed, pretending to be somebody like Belinda.
This—this was where she belonged.
The lesson progressed over the next half-hour, and she was only regretful she could not provide more time to them, but she did not know how long her family would be preoccupied at the ball and needed to flee back to Morland House before anybody left the Morrows’ townhouse and spot her.
The door creaked open right as she was about to call an end to the teaching, and she looked up, smiling when she saw Mrs. Neal, who was peculiarly pale-faced and tense—
But then her heart promptly thundered when she saw a man standing alongside her.
The low lantern light of the room made his hair turn almost golden, and the green eyes that fixed on her flashed with interest.
Elinor struggled to control her breathing, both at being caught—if that was what this was—and at the handsome man that gazed at her as though intrigued.
“Well.” His voice was a deep drawl. “What do we have here?”