Chapter 6
The carriage moved at a steady pace, carrying Julian towards his death sentence.
He shook his head gently. He was not to see his wedding day like that. It was entirely unfair to Eleanor, who had in truth done nothing wrong.
Julian sat by the window, his posture composed. The landscape shifted gradually, fields giving way to narrower roads. It was a short journey, but it crawled by.
It had been so efficient. That, more than anything, should have satisfied him.
Instead, he found himself returning not to the structure of the proposal, but to the precise moment at which Eleanor Whitcombe had stood before him and removed every unnecessary complication from the matter of him finding a bride, reducing it to something that could be accepted on his part.
And he had not refused it.
"You seem very calm."
The voice interrupted his thoughts without difficulty. Julian shifted his attention to Lily, who sat opposite him, her focus entirely fixed upon the subject that had occupied her since they had returned from the house party the month before.
"I am, yes," he replied.
Lily considered this, her expression thoughtful.
"Most people are not calm when they are to be married."
"And who told you that?"
"My governess. She told me to be prepared for you to be pale and terrified. She also told me not to tell you that."
Julian laughed in spite of himself. His sister’s governess had not been far from the truth, and he saw no issue with her warning Lily of what could happen.
"Well, as you can see, I am perfectly fine."
"And you are happy to marry Miss Whitcombe?"
"I am."
"That is good," she replied. "I do not like it when people are uncertain. It makes them change their minds."
Julian regarded her for a moment, noting the simplicity of the statement.
He had been most surprised by how easily Lily had taken to Eleanor, and he wondered what would have happened had he left Lily at home instead.
He did not doubt that Eleanor had considered his sister when she decided to suggest the marriage.
Society loved Lily, or at least they spoke highly of her. She was a clever young girl, and one that could perform very well when she wanted to. However, she did prefer to be home. Julian also preferred that, as it meant that he could protect her more easily.
Lily’s attention remained fixed on him, her questions not yet exhausted. They never were.
"Will she stay with us?"
"Yes."
"And she will not leave again?"
"No. Once we are married, she will be my wife, and she will live with us. She will be a sister to you, of sorts, I suppose."
"That is good," she said.
Julian smiled slightly, though he did not elaborate.
Eleanor had made no mention of being a mother of any kind to Lily, and Julian was grateful for that.
Too many young ladies saw the girl as someone in need of a mother and father, and Julian refused to let a single one think of herself as her mother.
Their mother was already in existence, and she was coming back.
Eventually, she would be back.
Lily shifted slightly in her seat, her tone more curious now.
"Do you like her?"
The question was direct, unqualified. Julian did not answer immediately. He did not dislike her, but they had not had the simplest of times together. She was too bright for him, too alive even, and he did not know what to do with it all.
"She is suitable," he said at last.
She studied him for a moment, as though attempting to determine whether that answer satisfied her.
It did not.
"But you do like her?" she repeated.
Julian’s gaze returned briefly to the window before settling again.
"I suppose that I do. She is kind, and she is good with you, and from what I have heard she is rather talented with music and science."
Lily’s expression shifted at that, something brighter entering it.
"I like that about her. She could teach me to sing."
"I had the same thought."
"And she does not speak to me as though I am very small," Lily said. "Other people do that. It is tiresome."
"I am aware. You tell me often."
"And she listens," Lily added. "Even when I am not saying something important."
Julian leaned back, at least pleased with that.
If Lily was happy, then so was he. Eleanor had made Lily like her, and if that was the case then Julian had to be the same, for his sister's happiness mattered to him far more than his own.
Not only that, but he did not know a judge of character as good as that of Lily.
Lily’s observations, though simply expressed, aligned with what he had already noted.
Eleanor did not require adjustment. She had entered the arrangement without expectation of alteration.
There had been no attempt to negotiate its terms beyond what was necessary, no indication that she would later seek to reshape it into something else.
He did not doubt that she would fulfil her role, that she would maintain the order he required.
And yet, despite that certainty, his attention returned once more to the moment in which the terms had been made explicit, to the absence of hesitation in her acceptance, even when he had stated, without qualification, what would not be offered.
There had been no visible resistance, as though she had not considered his words at all.
But she told him that it had been understood. That was the only conclusion that mattered.
Beside him, Lily had grown quieter, her earlier questions giving way to a more settled anticipation. She looked out of the window now, her posture more relaxed, her attention drawn to the movement of the world beyond the carriage.
"We are nearly there," she said, her legs swinging.
The carriage slowed slightly as it approached the final turn in the road, the movement shifting just enough to signal arrival.
What had been decided would now be carried out. There was no reason to reconsider it, and he had no intention of doing so.
The chapel came into view at last its spire catching the light of the morning sun. Julian’s attention lingered on it for a fraction longer than necessary, and in that moment a single thought intruded: what was he doing?
He dismissed it almost immediately. The thought was irrelevant. The arrangements had been made, the agreement reached, the terms accepted. There was no reason to dwell.
Inside, the chapel was simple, just as he preferred. The guests were arranged with care, polite murmurs held in check, faces attentive but controlled. The ceremony proceeded, every movement and word falling into place as though the day had been planned for nothing else.
Julian stood beside Eleanor at the altar, his attention on the officiant only when necessary. He was aware of her presence, steady, calm, and entirely in control. There was no hesitation in her stance, and as always there was no sign of faltering. The understanding between them remained absolute.
The vows were exchanged, and the officiant pronounced them husband and wife. There was a quiet pause, a brief collective intake of breath among the gathering, and then the polite, restrained applause that followed such a proper ceremony.
Julian allowed the formality to pass without indulgence, his focus remaining on Eleanor, observing the composed steadiness in her expression.
Outside, the carriage waited. Julian assisted Eleanor in stepping aboard with deliberate care, mindful of her posture, her composure. The horses moved off, the wheels turning steadily against the road, carrying them away from the chapel and toward the Harrowby Estate.
He settled into the seat beside her, his attention briefly returning to the road and the movement of the world outside. The chapel, the ceremony, the words exchanged, they were now all behind him. There was nothing left to consider but the journey ahead.
The chapel receded quickly behind them.
Julian did not look back. There was nothing there that required revisiting. The ceremony had been completed without interruption, without deviation. It had proceeded exactly as it should have done.
And yet, as the carriage settled into its rhythm, the brief question returned, and he asked himself what on Earth he was doing.
He dismissed it as he had before. The decision had been made with full awareness of its terms. There was nothing uncertain about it.
Beside him, Eleanor sat as she had throughout the morning, her attention resting somewhere beyond the window.
There was no visible sign that anything had altered, though everything had.
Julian studied her for a moment.
"You are very quiet," he said.
She did not look at him immediately.
"I thought you might appreciate it."
"I do not object to conversation."
"That is reassuring," she replied, turning her head slightly. "I should not wish to begin our marriage by causing discomfort."
"That would be inefficient."
"Entirely."
There was a brief pause. Julian did not usually ask questions he did not require answers to. This one, however, did not fall neatly into that category.
"Are you satisfied," he said, "with what has taken place?"
Eleanor’s expression shifted, just slightly.
"That is a very formal way of asking the question."
"It is a formal situation."
"I suppose it is. It is just that we have never been like that. I rather think that I am the only person in England that could make you as… well, as heated as I do. Besides, it is rather late to ask if I am happy."
"Late?" he repeated.
"Yes," she said, with a trace of amusement. "You might have raised the matter before the vows, if you cared."
He looked at her more directly now, the composure still present but no longer entirely unaffected.
"If you are suggesting that you regret–"
"I am not," she interrupted. "I am merely observing that the timing is not ideal."
Julian did not respond at once. Eleanor watched him, and he wished that she did not. She could see through him, he was certain of it.
"I am happy enough," she said.
"And you consider that sufficient?"
"I do," she said. "I would not have agreed to marry you otherwise."
The carriage continued forward, steady and uninterrupted. Julian nodded his head slightly, accepting the answer for what it was.
"Very well."
Eleanor turned her gaze back toward the window.
"Besides," she added after a moment, "you did promise not to offer anything you could not give. It would be unreasonable of me to expect more than that."
"It would," he agreed.
"Then we are in agreement."
The conversation settled there, not abruptly, but without need for continuation. Outside, the road stretched ahead, leading back toward Harrowby.
It was quiet when they arrived.
Not empty, not unwelcoming, but settled. Julian had ensured that there was no grand welcome, nor any large events planned for their return. It reflected him more clearly when without excess, and it would help Lily settle into her new routine.
It would also, of course, help his new bride.
Julian stepped down from the carriage first, then turned to assist Eleanor.
"Lady Harrowby."
The title was new. There was almost a joy in his chest as he watched her hear it for the first time.
Eleanor placed her hand in his and stepped down.
It was not an arrival as a guest, nor a temporary presence to be accommodated and observed.
She belonged there now, and in spite of the lack of ceremony, he did want her to feel as though it was her home too.
He released her hand and turned toward the entrance, leading her inside. She had visited him before, once, but that had been years before when they were children. He doubted that she even remembered it; it was a day-long visit for their fathers, and hers had insisted on bringing his children too.
Upon their entry, a few members of staff were present, acknowledging their arrival before returning to their duties. It was exactly as he wanted it to be. Julian paused just inside, turning back to her.
"Your rooms have been prepared," he said. "They are arranged in the east wing. It offers a greater degree of privacy, and it is—"
"Lord Harrowby."
He stopped.
"You may continue in just a moment," she said, "but I believe there is something we ought to establish first."
Julian did not immediately respond. The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakable.
"I am listening," he said.
"I understand that you wish to explain my role here. I am happy for you to do that, but I would prefer it not to be in this manner. I am not entering your household as an employee. I am your wife."
The words settled between them. There was no hesitation in her expression, and he was pleased that she was unafraid to tell him what she thought, but already he was unsettled by that four letter word.
He did not want her to have a different definition of what it meant to be his wife than what he considered it to mean.
Julian was silent for a moment. The instinct to establish structure before anything else had already taken hold. It was how he managed everything within his control. His gaze remained on her, more attentive now.
"It was not my intention to treat you like an employee," he said.
"No," Eleanor replied. "But it is the direction in which you were proceeding."
"Very well, then, I will adjust it."
Eleanor held his gaze for a moment longer, as though confirming that point had been understood. Then, just as easily, the tension eased.
He turned slightly, indicating the direction of the east wing.
"Your rooms," he said, more simply now. "I shall not entertain your wing, but Lily seems to think that she will be able to come and go as she pleases. Should you want privacy, you need only tell her."
Eleanor fell into step beside him. The house remained quiet as they moved through it, and yet, something had already changed.
She was already making her mark.