Chapter Thirty-Five
Eleanor
“Mr. Rollins here to see you, miss.”
Eleanor hopped out of the large wingback chair, setting her book aside, when Mr. Grosse made his announcement.
She’d wondered if Frederick would come for supper tonight.
Pausing briefly in front of a mirror, she tucked a strand of hair back into its twist, pinched her cheeks, then hurried for the door.
She drew her brows together when she saw him. His handsome face looked haggard, his eyes dull. “Frederick, what are you doing standing in the doorway? Come in. You look like you need a stiff drink.”
“Eleanor.” He stepped forward and to the side, revealing another man standing behind him. “This is Simmons, another officer of Bow Street.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m sorry. We’ve come to arrest your mother.”
Eleanor stopped so abruptly it was as though she’d walked into a wall. She blinked. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re making a jest. A poor one.”
Mr. Grosse made a motion as if to close the door, but the other agent pressed his palm against it, holding it open until he’d stepped inside. He gingerly closed it behind him.
“Miss?” Mr. Grosse wrung his hands.
Eleanor couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her mind was blank, her body numb.
Frederick stepped before her and gripped her shoulders. Without breaking her gaze, he said, “Find Mrs. Lynton. Bring her down please, Mr. Grosse.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to object.
Frederick squeezed her shoulders. “It will be worse if we have to restrain her or carry her out.”
The reality of the situation rushed at Eleanor, like a monstrous wave surging for the shore. A whimper escaped her lips. She shook her head again. “You can’t.” She gripped the edge of his coat. “Please, you can’t.”
“We found a letter Bannister’s murderer tried to destroy. It was written by your mother.” Frederick raised his hand to brush a lock of hair off her cheek.
She slapped his hand away, rage filling the void. She stepped back, jerking out of his grasp.
His fingers twitched before he lowered his hands. “Her mind is troubled, Eleanor. You know this. I need to ask if you have a pistol in the house.”
She tried to suck in a deep breath, but her lungs wouldn’t fully expand.
Black dots swirled in front of her eyes.
She looked over Frederick’s shoulder to the other agent.
Frederick mentioning her mother’s mental troubles in front of another person seemed a bigger betrayal than his coming to arrest her somehow.
She’d shared her fears about her mother’s mind in private.
He couldn’t kiss each scratch and bruise her mother had given her, then come here to tear her life apart.
“Eleanor.” Frederick’s voice deepened. “Is there a pistol here, maybe one your father owned?”
“No.” She pressed her hand to her abdomen.
Not anymore. It was still in Lady Mary’s box of lost items. “Why are you doing this?” She knew the answer, of course.
He believed her mother guilty. She didn’t understand how he’d never spoken to her of these suspicions, not since they’d become intimate.
How he could just show up on her doorstep and take her mother from her?
Movement on the stairs drew all their attention. Mr. Grosse had obviously warned his mistress of what awaited. She was pale, her eyes unfocused, but her steps unerringly carried her forward.
Eleanor rushed to her and gripped her hand. It was cold and gave no answering squeeze. “Mother, we’ll sort this out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”
“That’s not possible.” Frederick tugged her back and nodded at his associate. The man stepped forward and took her mother’s shoulder, leading her to the door. “You can’t stay with her.”
His touch burned. She’d once craved it; now it made her sick.
“Simmons will take your mother. I’ll stay with you.”
“No.” Her shoulders slowly rolled back. The panic was ebbing, leaving a grim sort of determination. And rage. “I don’t want you here.”
He reached for her. “Eleanor….”
Side-stepping him, she went to her mother and held her tight.
Her mother’s arms remained limp by her side.
“Be strong. I’ll speak with Mr. Lake. He’ll know what to do.
” Their family solicitor had been wise when protecting their newfound assets.
Whether he knew anything about criminal law was another story, but she needed to believe he could help. She needed her mother to believe it.
“I’m not going to leave you like this, Eleanor.” Frederick raked his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t well. I understand, but I can—”
“I want you out of my house, Mr. Rollins.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt like a vase that had been dropped. It hadn’t broken but cracks fanned its surface from the impact. Unless she held herself together, she was going to break, fall into pieces.
A muscle ticced in Frederick’s jaw. He looked almost as devastated as she felt, but she wouldn’t let herself care. This was his doing.
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. When he opened them again, they were resigned. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Safe? Frederick was arresting her mother for murder. The penalty for that was death. Safe no longer had a meaning. But she nodded. She needed him to leave. If he stayed, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together.
Her mother left without a sound. When the door closed behind them, Eleanor and Mr. Grosse stood unmoving, and at least on her part, unthinking.
The back of her mind raced with everything that needed to be done, but the front part was blissfully silent.
She stared at the door, as though expecting it to open back up, her mother to come back through as though she’d only been out for a day of shopping.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Mr. Grosse finally turned. “Miss?”
The expectation in his voice is what finally broke her. The realization that she was the one who would need to figure this out. Her father was dead, her mother arrested. There were no siblings. No uncles to call for aid. She was alone.
And she had no idea what to do.
Her lungs hammered in and out, her breaths harsh. She pressed her palm flat against the wall, praying she wouldn’t fall. No matter how much she wanted to, now was not the time to come apart. Her mother needed her. And if Eleanor didn’t know how to proceed, there was someone who might.
Decision made, she straightened from the wall. “Mr. Grosse, please tell the coachman to have the carriage brought round.”
*
Lady Mary barely looked up from the ledgers on her desk. “Are you here to cancel your membership, as well?”
Eleanor stopped behind the guest chair in Lady Mary’s office, her hands gripping the backrest. “No. Unless we find the true killer, however, my mother will no longer be a member.” She swallowed, the back of her throat burning. “Fre—Mr. Rollins arrested her.”
Lady Mary dropped her pen and lifted her head. “What? He did no such thing.”
Eleanor nodded. “Just now. He and another Runner came to the house and took her away.” She looked out the window, her eyes blurring.
“She didn’t even object. I think she feels guilty about hating Lady Richford so much, almost like her hate became a living thing that got the viscountess killed.
” Either that, or she hadn’t understood what was happening.
But being led away by two Bow Street Runners should be clear enough for even the most disordered mind.
“I don’t know where she is right now,” Eleanor continued. “Is she already sitting in a jail cell? Is she talking to the magistrate? Frederick wouldn’t let me accompany them.”
“At least he was right about something.” Lady Mary stood and circled the desk. She guided Eleanor into the guest chair and sat in the one next to it. “You can’t help your mother by following her around. You’ll only make yourself sick, and your mother might not want a witness to her humiliation.”
Eleanor leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. “What am I to do?”
Lady Mary rubbed soothing circles on her back. “There is only one thing that you can do.”
“Find the murderer.”
Lady Mary’s hand paused. “Well, yes, that too, but I thought that went without saying. I meant find defense counsel for your mother.”
“We have a man we used to help with my father’s business and investments.”
Lady Mary sniffed. “While I’m sure he is excellent at bills of lading and whatnot, I meant someone who specializes in criminal cases.
I know a man. One of my nephew’s friends is acquainted with him and has brought him to some parties I attended.
I believe Summerset wanted to have a criminal defense counsel on hand in case one of his escapades landed him in hot water.
” She leant across the desk and dragged a journal in front of her.
She ripped out a blank page and wrote down a name.
“I believe his office is in Hanover Square. Call on him. Tell him I sent you.”
Eleanor blew on the ink before folding the paper and putting it in her reticule. “Thank you.”
“Now, how are you doing? Truly.”
Eleanor huffed out a laugh. “It doesn’t feel real. Not yet. But I’ll be strong. I have to be, for my mother.”
Lady Mary nodded, approvingly. “And how is your Frederick?”
Eleanor gaped. “How should he be doing? He arrested my mother!” She slumped back in her chair. Why should she care how that traitor was doing?
“Come now, don’t be silly.” Lady Mary frowned. “He must have had sufficient reason to arrest your mother. And if he hadn’t done it, another Runner would have.”
Eleanor started to protest, but Lady Mary held up her hand. “I’m not saying he was right, only that he would never do anything to hurt you unless he absolutely must. He feels his duties most heavily, that boy.”
A steel coil wrapped around Eleanor’s chest. She wouldn’t feel guilty about how she’d treated Frederick. She wouldn’t. He’d smiled at her mother over the dinner table and then arrested her. He’d held Eleanor in his arms and told her he wanted to take care of her forever.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel those arms now.
She blew out a shaky breath. He’d thought he’d had good reason for his actions. Eleanor knew this, but it didn’t make accepting those actions any easier. In time, she might be able to forgive him, but she could never forget. If her mother was prosecuted, convicted… executed.
There was no way Eleanor could ever be with the man who’d had a hand in that. It would be too big a betrayal of her mother.
“Do you have any of that brandy?” Eleanor asked. She’d take the burning pain down her throat if it eased the ache around her heart.
Lady Mary stood. “None of that now. You don’t have time for self-pity.” Reaching down, she grabbed Eleanor’s arm and pulled her to standing. The woman was surprisingly strong. “Go. Speak to that solicitor. The sooner he takes your mother’s case, the better.”
Eleanor knew she was right. It was something solid to do, a definite act. And with her mind in such a muddle, a sure direction to travel in should be welcome.
She kissed Lady Mary goodbye, turned her steps to leave the club.
But Eleanor had been taught when she was young that life was rarely fair. Bad things happened to good people all the time. And more often than not, the wicked suffered no consequences, in this life, at least.
She would hire counsel for her mother. She would go through all the motions of helping her.
All the while knowing anything she did most likely would have no effect.