Chapter 2
By the time Eleanor left her room, the house had not yet fully returned to life.
She preferred it that way. Without the expectations that were placed on her, the house felt far more comfortable. Eleanor was not entirely certain of the way she had to go, but with nobody else around her she had time to find it.
At last, she reached the gardens.
The air was cooler than she had expected, touched with the faint freshness of early spring. It was quieter there, not silent thanks to the birds, and it was welcome.
She moved further along the path, her pace unhurried. There was no need to speak, no need to perform, no one observing her closely enough to draw conclusions. It allowed something in her to ease, though she did not dwell on it.
A movement to her left caught her attention.
Eleanor turned her head slightly and found herself being watched. The child stood a short distance away, half concealed by the low branches of a flowering shrub. She had not been there a moment before, or at least Eleanor had not noticed her.
They regarded one another in silence. The girl did not move, though her gaze was steady, curious rather than fearful, as though she were assessing before deciding whether to retreat.
Eleanor did not approach immediately. She remained where she was, and when she did speak, her voice was light.
"You have found a very good hiding place."
"I am not hiding."
"No?" Eleanor glanced briefly at the branches beside her. "Then I must apologize. I have disturbed you."
"You did not disturb me," the child said, though she did not step forward.
"That is a relief. I should not like to begin the day by causing any inconvenience."
The girl considered this, her gaze still fixed on Eleanor’s face. She was young, about five Eleanor reasoned, but there was a steadiness in her gaze that was beyond her years.
"Do you live here?" Eleanor asked.
"No. I am here for the party."
"I see. Are you not a little too young to be in attendance?"
She certainly was, and far too young to be out alone, but she did not want to frighten her by reminding her of that. The girl stepped out from behind the shrub at that, just enough to be properly seen.
"I came with my family."
"I see, and might they be nearby?"
She asked it carefully, so as not to startle her too much, but the little girl flushed at it regardless.
"I wanted to play. Please do not tell them."
"Fear not, for I do not know who your family is. To be honest with you, I do not know anything at all here. I almost got entirely lost on my way out here."
The little girl smiled at that, her weight shifting before she looked at her devilishly.
"I know where everything is," she said.
"I should expect nothing less."
Eleanor shifted slightly, then lowered herself without hesitation to sit by the edge of the path, bringing herself nearer to the child’s height without making a point of it.
"You are not supposed to sit there," she said.
"Then it would seem that neither of us follow rules very well."
The child studied her for a moment longer, then stepped closer again.
"My brother would be furious with us if he saw us. He always needs everything to be perfect."
"I would take that as a compliment, then. Perfection is impossible, after all."
There was almost disbelief in the girl's eyes, as though Eleanor had said the most ridiculous thing. Her heart broke for her, knowing all too well that she was under immense expectations, the kind that she would never be able to meet.
"You are very well acquainted with this place then, yes?"
"I am," she said. "I know the best places."
"I should very much like to know them as well."
The child hesitated, though only briefly.
"Perhaps I will show you."
"I should be grateful."
"You must not tell anyone."
"Of course not."
"Especially my brother."
Eleanor’s expression shifted slightly. Once again, she had mentioned her brother. It struck her, for it was usually a father that a child mentioned, which had to mean that her father was not in the home.
She hoped her assumption was incorrect.
"Your brother?"
"He does not like it when I go too far," the girl said. "He says I must stay where I can be seen."
"That sounds sensible, at least."
"It is not," she replied firmly. "It is dull. Come this way."
Eleanor rose without hesitation, and they began to walk together.
"And what should I call my guide?" she asked.
The child glanced back at her, as though surprised she had not already asked.
"Lily," she said.
"Lily," Eleanor repeated. "I am very pleased to meet you."
"I know who you are," Lily replied. "You are Miss Whitcombe."
Eleanor paused at that, though only for a moment. The girl turned again before she could ask her more, however, but Eleanor did not immediately move.
Her attention had shifted. She did not know how long he had been there, only that he was now and standing a short distance away, just beyond the curve of the path. He had not announced himself, had not interrupted, but he had seen enough.
Lord Harrowby’s gaze moved between them. He had not expected to see them, that much was certain.
"Lord Harrowby," Eleanor said. "Good morning."
"Miss Whitcombe."
His tone was even, though there was something more contained in it now, something quieter than the night before.
"You are awake early," Eleanor continued, hoping to distract him from the little girl.
"I am always awake early. I did not know that you had also taken it upon yourself to wander with children."
"Oh, I– yes, this is my cousin."
She did not know why she had said it. Perhaps, she reasoned, she did not want him to make any assumptions about her. She also did not want word to spread that there was a child disobeying her family, for she was certain that Lord Harrowby would insist upon them knowing.
"Your cousin?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
He studied her for a moment, as though weighing it. Eleanor looked at Lily, who seemed very concerned to have been found. There was a brief pause, and then Eleanor realized the mistake that she had made.
A brother that demanded order and perfection, one that insisted that she do exactly as she was told.
Lily, who had been watching the exchange, stepped forward at last.
"Do not send me away," she said.
Lord Harrowby’s attention shifted immediately.
"I have not attempted to."
"You will," she insisted. "You always do."
"I do not–"
"You do," she said firmly. "You say it is time for lessons, or time for reading, or time to go inside. It is always time for something."
Eleanor glanced at Lord Harrowby, a faint trace of amusement in her expression that she did not attempt to conceal. This was a man that always had control, yet this small child seemed to be bolder than him. She was certainly bolder than most girls in her position tended to be.
"That all sounds very structured," Eleanor said.
"It is necessary," he replied.
"It is dull," Lily said.
Julian exhaled, though there was no real irritation in it, only restraint.
"You have already had time outside this morning," he said. "You will not spend the entire day here."
"I will," she replied.
"You will not."
"I will if Eleanor stays."
There was a brief silence. Julian looked at his sister, then at Eleanor, as though the situation required a calculation he had not anticipated.
Eleanor remained where she was, though she did wonder why Lily knew who she was.
She knew how, now that she had placed the identity of her mysterious brother, but she did not understand why he had spoken of her.
"You need not alter your plans on my account," she said. "I should not wish to disrupt your routine."
Lily turned to her at once.
"You are not a disruption."
"It appears that I am," Eleanor said gently. "Your brother seems very certain of how your day ought to proceed."
"He is always certain," Lily said.
"That is a useful quality," Eleanor replied, unsure of why she was helping such an infuriating man.
"It is not," Lily insisted. "It is very tiresome."
Eleanor’s gaze flickered briefly toward Lord Harrowby again.
She did not know him well, and frankly speaking she did not particularly enjoy his company, but he was not cruel.
He had not scolded Lily upon seeing her, nor had he even mentioned that she should not have been there.
Perhaps they had a routine, and if that was the case then it was unfortunate but Eleanor did not want to trouble them.
Lord Harrowby regarded her steadily.
"You find this amusing, yes?"
"I find it familiar," she said. "My brother and I have had this conversation before."
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then looked back at his sister. He clearly did not want to say what he was about to, and so Eleanor knew in an instant what he was about to say. As, it appeared, did his sister.
"You have lessons this morning," he said.
"I will have them later."
"Lily, you knew that this was a part of the arrangement. You would accompany me here, and then you would continue as normal."
"But you are enjoying yourself. I should too."
There was a pause, not long, but enough to make the tension between them clear. Eleanor shifted slightly, though she did not step away.
"A small delay would do no harm," she said. "I am more than happy to accompany her, if you wish to be elsewhere."
"She requires consistency."
"And she has it," Eleanor replied. "One morning’s adjustment will not undo it."
"It is not a question of undoing it."
"Then what is it a question of?"
He did not answer immediately. Eleanor held his gaze, not challenging, but not retreating either.
"She wishes to show me the gardens," she continued, more gently now. "She can teach me the names of the flowers, if you like. That way, she will be learning."
"That is not a sufficient lesson."
"It may be," she said. "If the purpose of your rule is to ensure her well-being rather than to maintain it for its own sake."
Lily stepped closer to him, her voice quieter now, though no less determined.
"Please," she said.