Chapter 9
Eleanor’s rooms were quieter than the rest of the house.
The late afternoon light had begun to fade, leaving the space lit by a small cluster of candles placed carefully along the dressing table. The maid moved with quiet efficiency behind her, arranging fabric, fastening, and adjusting, the process steady and unhurried.
Eleanor sat before the mirror, her posture relaxed, her attention half on the reflection, half elsewhere.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It was tentative, not the firm, certain rhythm of a servant. Eleanor glanced toward it.
"Yes?"
The door opened just slightly, no more than a few inches, and Lily appeared in the gap. She did not step in immediately. She remained where she was, her hand still on the door, as though waiting to be told whether she ought to proceed.
Eleanor’s expression softened at the sight of her.
"You may come in."
Lily pushed the door open a little further, then slipped inside, closing it carefully behind her. She lingered near it for a moment, her gaze moving around the room before settling on Eleanor.
"You are getting ready," she said.
"I am."
"For the dinner?"
"Yes. I am rather nervous about it though, I must admit."
Lily took a few small steps forward, still not entirely certain of her place in the room. It was rather unlike the outspoken little girl that Eleanor had seen her be before.
"Is it very important?"
"I would say so, yes. It is my first outing as your brother’s wife, and so I am expected to make an excellent impression."
"You will do that."
Lily moved a little closer, her attention shifting to the mirror, to the quiet activity of the maid working behind Eleanor.
"Will it be long?"
"Long enough," Eleanor replied. "Why do you ask?"
Lily hesitated.
"I am not usually left alone. My brother likes me to always be with him, just in case something happens."
Eleanor did not quite know what to say to that. It was, after all, perfectly normal for a brother to be protective over his young sister. Eleanor could not help but wonder, however, if this was indeed as other siblings were with one another.
"Will there be many people?" Lily asked before Eleanor could say anything.
"Some."
"I would like that. I do not like it when there are too many people, but some are alright."
"That is a reasonable way to feel. I am much the same, I must admit."
"You? But you do not seem to be like that."
"No, but that is only because I have learned to hide it. That is very important when you are a lady."
"Why?"
"Because it is part of what is required of me. I must appear to be a perfect lady, so that people think I will make a good wife for your brother."
Lily shifted her weight slightly. Eleanor wished that she would say something, because as it was she was forced to reckon with the question of whether or not she was a good wife for Julian.
There was no changing it, of course, but that did not make it easier.
If anything, it only concerned her more.
They were married, and if she brought shame upon him, then there was nothing that could be done about it.
They were bound to one another whether they liked it or not.
"I would like to have gone," Lily said at last.
Eleanor glanced at her, catching the uncertainty in the way the words were said.
"To a dinner like this?"
"Yes."
"And what is it you think you would like about it?" Eleanor asked.
Lily thought about that.
"The candles," she said first. "And the dresses. I have always wanted a beautiful gown like the ladies wear."
"That is also what I wanted when I was a girl! They are truly beautiful, though they are very heavy, too."
"And the music," she added. "If there is any. I love listening to the music, especially when the adults are talking and I do not understand them."
"There may well be music there."
"And I enjoy seeing everything," Lily said. "Not just hearing about it."
Eleanor watched her for a moment. Lily’s gaze had dropped slightly now, as though she was no longer entirely certain she ought to have said it at all. Eleanor turned slightly in her seat, enough that she was no longer looking only at her reflection.
"I apologize," she said gently. "I did not mean to take your place."
Lily looked up at her, just briefly.
"It is alright. I know that it is not the sort of place that I should be. My brother does not trust me enough."
"Then why does he usually take you?"
"Because he does not trust me to be alone here, either. He does not trust me at all."
Eleanor hoped that was not true, for if it was then she would not know what to do about it.
There was nothing at all wrong with the way Lily was; if anything, she was a shining example of what a girl ought to have been.
She was certain that Lily was confused and nothing more, but she also did not want to say as such in case she was wrong about it.
"Would you like me to ask your brother about this?"
Lily did not respond immediately, though Eleanor could see that she was already more hopeful.
"Would you really?" she said.
"Of course. It is for the best that we all understand one another, and I would prefer that you are happy as you know."
Lily nodded once, as though that was enough.
"Not tonight," she added quickly. "I know it is not tonight."
"No," Eleanor said. "Not tonight, as we shall be occupied, but another time."
Lily seemed satisfied with that. She moved a little closer now, her earlier hesitation fading, her attention returning to the process of Eleanor’s preparation.
"You look different," she said.
"In what way?"
"More…" Lily paused, searching for the word. "Important."
Eleanor allowed a faint smile.
"That is the intention."
Lily nodded, accepting that without question.
"I think you will do it properly," she said.
"Do what properly?"
"Attend the dinner," Lily said, gesturing vaguely toward her. "You will impress everyone."
Eleanor followed the motion with her eyes, then looked back at her.
"I shall attempt it," she said.
"That is enough," Lily replied, with quiet certainty.
Eleanor studied her for a moment longer, then inclined her head slightly.
Behind her, the maid stepped back, the final adjustments complete.
Lily remained where she was, no longer lingering near the door, no longer uncertain of whether she belonged in the room.
Eleanor, as she rose, made a quiet note of it.
She would ask Julian about everything, and she would receive an answer.
The evening was smaller than the house party, and far more welcoming. Even so, Eleanor felt herself being watched.
Whether they had gone out or received their guests made little difference in practice. The structure remained the same, and unlike a grand ball, everything was seen more clearly, as there were less people to watch.
Julian guided Eleanor into the room with measured ease, his attention fixed where it ought to be, his manner composed and entirely assured. There was no hesitation in him, no visible adjustment to the change in circumstance.
"Lady Harrowby," their host greeted.
The title followed her again, this time with greater weight.
Eleanor inclined her head, accepting it without pause.
Introductions were brief, and then conversation settled quickly into place, guided by expectation as much as inclination.
Nothing was said directly, and yet everything was understood.
There was the speed of the marriage, the unexpected nature of it, and yet the absence of any visible uncertainty between them.
Julian did not leave her to navigate it alone.
He remained near when it was required, drawing others into conversation when necessary if it meant avoiding the matter. When they moved to the table, he pulled out her chair as if it were instinctive, his hand steady at the back of it as she sat.
"Thank you," she said.
"Of course."
Julian, it seemed, was not as cold as he wished to appear. Eleanor was aware of it even though she could not quite believe that it was real. He was being the perfect gentleman, and he appeared considerate and devoted.
It was as though it meant something beyond what it was.
Julian spoke to her when appropriate, not in a way that would draw undue attention, but often enough that it could not be overlooked.
He ensured she was included, that nothing passed her by unnoticed, that her position was not only acknowledged but reinforced.
It was faultless, and entirely by design.
"It must be quite the adjustment," Lady Farrow suggested, her gray curls bouncing as she spoke.
"It is certainly different in comparison with my life before," Eleanor replied, "but it is nothing that we cannot manage."
"Have you known one another long?"
"Indeed," Julian replied. "I have had the pleasure of knowing my wife for years now, and I have considered her a friend for much of that time.
I will not pretend that I am unaware of the speculation surrounding our match, but it is not the rushed thing that some claim.
I simply realized that I enjoyed having her in my life, and I wanted her to be with me for the rest of our lives.
There is no scandal to it, much to the dismay of many. "
He lied very easily, Eleanor thought, and it was a trait that, though she did not like it and it made him rather untrustworthy as far as she was concerned, was most useful. No one could have found fault in it. That was the difficulty that she faced.
The careful attention that he was giving her was the closest she had ever come to being treated as though she had been chosen, and she knew, with absolute certainty, that she had not.
The distinction did not show, however. It could not. She smiled when required, spoke when addressed, allowed the evening to unfold without disruption. There was no faltering, no visible hesitation, only the awareness that what appeared to be real was, in fact, constructed.
And that she had agreed to it.