Chapter 15
Voices carried through the corridors, and the stillness that had once defined the place did not disappear, but it shifted, softened at the edges.
Eleanor’s friends had arrived.
By the afternoon, they had abandoned the house altogether. The air outside was mild, the gardens stretching easily into open land, and it felt natural to walk rather than remain indoors under watchful order.
They kept no particular pace, drifting along the path as the conversation unfolded without effort just as it always had.
"I had begun to think you had vanished entirely," Beatrice said, glancing at Eleanor. "We received a letter, and then nothing for weeks."
"You received more than most," Eleanor replied. "I was not inclined to write at length."
"That is very unlike you," Anne said.
"I am adapting," Eleanor said, with a trace of amusement. "I am more preoccupied than before, as you know."
Beatrice studied her more closely.
"You say that as though it explains everything."
"It explains enough."
Anne gave a small, knowing look.
"You seem settled. I noticed it the moment I arrived three days ago."
Eleanor did not answer at once. She let her gaze move over the grounds ahead, the open stretch of land quieter than the house behind them. She had, indeed, adapted to her new life far more quickly than anticipated.
"I am not unhappy," she said.
"That is something," Beatrice nodded
"It is more than something," Anne added. "It is not what we expected."
Eleanor glanced between them.
"You expected me to regret it. Is that it?"
"We expected you to find it difficult," Beatrice said. "We know better than to ever think that you could possibly regret anything."
"I have found it difficult," Eleanor replied. "At times, but when all is said and done, I am pleased to be here."
Anne’s attention sharpened slightly, but Eleanor did not elaborate. After a moment, Beatrice cleared her throat.
"And what of your husband?"
Eleanor’s expression shifted just enough to acknowledge the subject.
"He is consistent," she said. "He knows his duties, and he carries them out well."
"That sounds reassuring," Anne said. "Many ladies do not receive such a thing. We are fortunate that you do not hate him."
"I do not, no," Eleanor replied. "One always knows where one stands with him, and that is a comfort in itself."
Beatrice tilted her head. Eleanor could see that her friend was not entirely convinced, but then nothing would convince her that this was what Eleanor had wanted.
Her friends knew her, and while Anne might have been willing to believe that Eleanor had been happy to forget about her dreams, Beatrice was not so inclined.
She loved that Anne was so welcoming, but part of her loved that Beatrice knew her so well.
"And where do you stand?" Beatrice asked.
Eleanor smiled faintly.
"Exactly where I intended to. I do not need anything more than that."
Her friend watched her for a moment longer than necessary, though she did not challenge it directly.
"And the house," Beatrice said, gesturing lightly around them. "It is magnificent. It must have taken a while for you to find your way."
"It was never unfamiliar," Eleanor said. "Only different."
"In what way?"
Eleanor considered that.
"It requires less performance than my family’s."
They walked a little further, the path turning slightly, the house no longer fully in view. Suddenly, Beatrice let out a quiet laugh.
"I cannot decide whether to be relieved or disappointed about all of this."
"Why disappointed?" Eleanor asked.
"I had prepared myself for drama. I thought that there would have been something in all of this that was going wrong!"
"Give it time," Anne sighed. "There will come a time where things are not so simple."
"You may wait as long as you like," Eleanor said. "You will find nothing so entertaining here."
"That is a bold claim," Beatrice replied.
"It is true. Lord Harrowby and I do not have disagreements."
They did not, because they did not spend enough time with one another, nor discuss matters openly enough, to even risk it happening. Anne glanced at her, but said nothing this time.
The conversation drifted on, turning to smaller things, to familiar stories and shared memories that required no careful thought. It was easy in a way Eleanor had not realized she had missed.
And yet, beneath it, something remained just out of reach.
They returned in the late afternoon. The walk back was quieter than the journey out had been, the energy of earlier conversation easing into something more settled as the house came into view again.
Eleanor felt it before she saw it properly, the familiar outline of the estate rising against the softened light.
It truly did feel like somewhere that could be her home.
Beatrice slowed slightly as they approached the steps.
"I had almost forgotten how far we had gone."
"That is because you were talking," Anne said.
"That is usually the reason I forget things."
Eleanor smiled faintly but said nothing, her attention already shifting ahead.
Lily was waiting near the lower steps. She did not approach immediately. Instead, she stood still for a moment, watching them arrive as if assessing the situation before deciding how to enter it. When she did move, it was with purpose, though not urgency.
"You went out without me," she said as they reached her.
There was no accusation in it, only certainty. Beatrice looked down at her, clearly surprised to see a little girl there.
"We did not intend to exclude you."
"You still did," Lily replied.
Anne crouched slightly to her level.
"We thought you were occupied with your governess."
"I was not."
Eleanor stepped closer then, her tone softening.
"Then that is our mistake. Our apologies, Lily."
Lily considered this for a moment, then nodded once as though accepting the correction.
"Where did you go?" she asked.
"Only walking," Beatrice said.
"That is not interesting," Lily replied at once.
"It was to us," Anne said. "Perhaps it is just as well that you stayed home?"
Lily looked unconvinced. Eleanor shifted slightly.
"We can go again tomorrow, if you would like," she offered.
Lily’s attention sharpened immediately.
"All of us?"
"Yes," Eleanor said.
"And Julian?"
A brief pause followed. Beatrice glanced toward the house.
"That will depend on whether he is willing to be persuaded."
"He will be," Lily said with confidence.
"You seem certain," Anne remarked.
"I usually am," Lily replied. "Besides, my brother knows not to say no to me."
That earned a small laugh from Beatrice. As they moved toward the house, the door opened before they reached it. Julian stood there, as though he had already been aware of their return. His gaze moved briefly over the group, settling for a moment on Eleanor before shifting to Lily.
"You have returned," he said.
"They have," Lily replied, as if she were their spokesperson.
A faint shift crossed Julian’s expression, though it was gone quickly. Eleanor watched the exchange without interrupting it. Lily turned slightly then, looking between them all.
"I look forward to joining you all next time," she said firmly, as though she had rehearsed it. "I trust that you will not object to my brother coming too."
And with that, she turned and went inside as though the matter had already been settled. Beatrice watched her go in admiration.
"She is remarkably confident."
Julian’s gaze lingered in the direction she had disappeared.
"She has learned to be."
Eleanor noticed the way he said it, though she did not comment.
Instead, she followed them inside, the house closing around them once more.
Lily was a strange little girl, one with an incredible vocabulary and a good speaking ability.
She was wise beyond her years, and Eleanor wished that she understood why.
They did not go inside immediately.
The following morning, they prepared for another excursion, one that would include the little girl this time.
Julian was absent, having sent a servant to explain that he had work to tend to and therefore could not join them, which made the little girl visibly disappointed.
Eleanor crouched slightly, bringing herself closer to Lily’s height.
"What would you like to do?"
Lily hesitated, which in itself seemed unusual. Her gaze shifted briefly between them, as though measuring the answer before offering it.
"Something outside," she said at last. "Not walking."
"That narrows it considerably," Anne murmured.
"We could play a game," Beatrice suggested. "Though I warn you, I am very competitive."
Lily looked at her with interest.
"Good. I am too."
Eleanor smiled.
"Then a game it is."
They moved away from the steps again, back onto the lawn where the space opened around them. The light had softened, the air still warm enough to linger without thought of time.
At first, the game was simple, albeit invented quickly.
Rules formed as they went, changing whenever it suited Lily to change them.
There was no structure to it, no expectation of fairness, only movement and laughter.
Anne followed along with surprising seriousness, though she broke into quiet laughter more than once when Lily altered the outcome in her own favor.
"That is not how it works," she said at one point.
"It is now," Lily replied.
Beatrice shook her head.
"I have been entirely misled about the nature of this game."
"You should have asked," Lily said.
Eleanor said little at first, content to follow, to respond when needed, to let the moment unfold without shaping it too much. She watched Lily more than the game itself, the way her movements became less careful, less measured as time passed.
At some point, the game slowed of its own accord. Lily dropped down onto the grass without ceremony, breathing a little faster, though not tired enough to stop entirely.
"You are all very bad at this," she said.