Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
" T ake care of yourself, my dear. I do not mean to overstep, but a woman of your standing cannot show any weakness in public. As much as you wish to trust your staff wholeheartedly, they talk. And talk travels. However, if you ever need a moment or two to let yourself embrace the hurt and frustration you feel, you can always come home."
Eleanor hesitated slightly, “Mother —”
"I know," Leah began quickly. "I know that we — your father and I — have not been the most reliable to you. I understand there is still much to forgive and even more to forget. All I ask is that you give us a chance to support you in your time of need."
Her mother's sincerity felt genuine and Eleanor was greatly comforted by her presence.
“Thank you, mother. I will think about it.”
That seemed to be more than the marchioness had expected, and her face broke into a happy smile.
“That is more than enough,” Leah smiled, rising to her feet.
Eleanor allowed another embrace, letting the warmth she had craved for so long wash over her. Everything that hung over her head in the last few days still bore some of their weight, but she had somehow managed to recover enough of herself to feel a little more stable.
Whatever the future held, as uncertain as it seemed now, she could overcome.
“Thank you, mother. Receiving your support at this time means more to me than you know,” Eleanor conveyed sincerely.
"It was my pleasure, dear. I am thankful that I was given such a chance at all. If you need anything – anything at all – please do not hesitate to send it for me. I am your mother, Eleanor. I might have not acted like it as of late, but I really do want to help you in any way I can." Leah told her as Eleanor walked her out to the foyer.
"I know Mother. I will," Eleanor said with a small, tired but genuine smile.
"Take care of yourself," Leah repeated, worry etched on her face.
"I will, Mother," Eleanor huffed, almost amused by her mother fussing over her after years of feeling overlooked and ignored. "Extend my regards to father."
Leah nodded, lingering back for a moment, as though she wished to say something. Then she seemed to change her mind, giving Eleanor one last reassuring smile before she left the house.
The moment the doors closed behind her mother, Eleanor sighed deeply, feeling utterly rung out.
It had been draining, conversing with her mother. Although it had yielded positive results and she was glad their relationship was on the mend, she had not been prepared to cut herself open alongside everything else that was going on around her.
She looked down at her hands where traces of dirt still clung to her skin and sighed deeply, in need of great rest.
“Alice?” Eleanor called out.
“Yes, Your Grace?” her maid responded, stepping closer from behind the duchess.
“Run me a bath. I need to soak for at least an hour.”
And soak for an hour she did.
Left alone to her thoughts as she remained in the warm water, Eleanor found herself feeling lonely within the estate.
When Frederick had abandoned her the first time, she had been truly alone then, with no one to turn to or depend on. It had taken her a long time to forge the relationships that kept her afloat on the property grounds. She had made a family for herself within these walls and had done her best to thrive, not expecting that there was room for anything else in her life other than what she already had.
She had all but given up on ever finding love then, trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who had wanted nothing to do with her.
And then he returned and set her world ablaze.
Frederick pushed her to the edge, deriving an inane amount of joy from cornering her and making her flustered and confused. He practically haunted her, with how thoughts of him – of his voice, his touch, his gaze – were always on her mind.
Before she realized it, her waking hours were consumed by thoughts of him. She wanted to see him, to be held by him, to feel those temperamental lips on hers again.
Eleanor had unknowingly begun to want him and it wasn’t long before she found herself lost in all that he had given her.
“And now, he’s going to take it all away,” she mumbled with a quiet sniff, pressing a hand to her forehead. “And then I’ll be all alone again. I’ll have nothing.”
Eleanor nearly wished she could see him, could look him in the eye, and tell him how broken she felt.
Finally tired of the bath, Eleanor rose up and stepped out of the water, accepting Alice’s assistance to get dressed for bed.
“Would you like something to eat, Your Grace? You barely at all day,” her maid frowned in concern.
“I am fine, thank you. I would simply like to get some much-needed sleep.”
Reluctantly, Alice withdrew, gently closing the door behind her.
Eleanor inhaled deeply, feeling her body relax into her sheets as she drew the covers tightly over her body in hopes that some warmth would take away the empty chill in her heart.
“It was I who made the decision to end our marriage. I must keep my chin up and face the consequences,” she whispered into the air, hoping that the declaration would summon some strength for her to depend on.
It didn’t take long for the emotional weight of the day to lull her to sleep.
But then, much later, Eleanor jerked awake, confused and disoriented by her sudden state of consciousness. Her heart thundered in her chest as she blinked slowly to gain some awareness, trying to figure out what had woken her up.
That was when she heard it, the creaking of her door as it hung slightly ajar.
Then she realized that what she had heard was the sound of the door opening.
A chill ran down her spine as she noticed a dark figure move about, at the foot of her bed.
There was someone in her room.
“My God, Ironvale. What’s gotten into you? Don’t tell me that you’ve spent the last two days brooding like this.”
Frederick paid Sampson no mind as he reached for the bottle to refill his glass. He hoped that this would do it, that this drink would help him erase every part of Eleanor from his existence.
If only for a little while.
He had thought the distance would be enough when he returned to one of his homes in London. But the house lacked warmth and the garden paled in comparison to the one Eleanor had brought to life with her bare hands.
Everything reminded him of her, everything about her that he had come to cherish had turned around to hurt him instead. And he couldn’t stand it.
His liquor cabinet had always been full and Frederick took it upon himself to test and see if it held the answers to his problems. So far, though, the empty bottles only seemed to render him weak as he was assaulted by regret over his decisions.
“All right, I will not,” Frederick slurred, emptying the glass in one long drink, while his other hand fumbled around in search of the bottle.
Sampson picked it up just as his fingertips grazed it and put it out of his reach before glaring down at Frederick disapprovingly.
“This is very unlike you. In as much as you do like to take rather extreme approaches to life sometimes, you were never one to drink this heavily.” He paused, his eyes seemingly studying Frederick’s face. “Neither were you one to mope about, looking as though your world has just burned to a crisp.”
With a scoff, Frederick stood shakily and walked towards his liquor cabinet to grab another bottle, since the other had been seized.
“If you are here just to throw my wrongdoings right back at me, then do not bother wasting your time. I am doing that job just fine on my own, so you may leave,” he grumbled, taking a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet.
Sampson’s eyes widened, as though he had just recalled his reason for being there.
“Damn it, I nearly forgot that I had come for something really strange and it seemed quite important. I was looking through your father’s ledgers and I found a reoccurring name he had been making payments to. Large sums, dating back years, once every few months or so. And there was no purpose for the payment stated in the books, just a name.” He said hurriedly.
Frederick frowned, confused. That did not sound like his father.
The man was meticulous and controlling, the sort of type to note down every explicit transaction he made in his life, and its purpose. For him to consecutively spend money without noting its reason was very odd indeed.
“Well? Who was it?” Frederick questioned, suddenly feeling impatient.
Sampson hesitated, as though he was suddenly unsure if the news he had brought was important. “A man named Herbert Norwell.”
The name echoed in Frederick’s head and almost immediately, his head began to ache. Disoriented, he stumbled, the bottle of whiskey slipping from his fingers and crashing onto the floor, shattering completely.
Sampson was speaking to him, his face alight with worry but Frederick could hardly hear him, his mind and eyes assaulted by his missing memories piecing themselves together in his head.
“That name…” he grunted as Sampson helped him settle into a seat. “I know that name. I saw it too… in the ledgers. That day.”
Frederick recalled exactly when and where he had seen it. He had been studying his father's ledgers to note the key businesses and expenses he wished to make his priority, intending to ignore the rest that did not interest him.
Then he noticed a name that kept appearing every few months, spread across different ledgers that dated back at least a decade. Confused, Frederick had asked for the man, along with his ties to the late duke to be investigated.
It had taken barely any time at all to uncover the truth.
“He’s my half-brother. Father had conceived him with a mistress, who had later died, early in the boy’s childhood. My father had apparently been making those payments to keep the bastard away from his ‘perfect’ family. No small sum too, so as you can imagine, I was not going to continue such a line of foolishness. And I confronted him that evening.” Frederick spoke, the information spilling out of him as though a damn had broken open.
“I’m assuming the meeting went swimmingly, then” Sampson sighed sarcastically.
Frederick barely noted his friend’s snark, still distracted by the onslaught of memories trickling into his mind.
“I found him in a gambling hall, in one of the most dangerous parts of London, laughing as he continued to frivolously waste away the money my father had given to him. I told him that I could no longer support his obvious greed and gambling habits. He demanded that I continue to uphold my father's duty, or else he would expose the nature of his origins to the ton. I told him that it was no longer any of my concerns because I did not care what society thought of me at all. He continued with his threats, promising to make up stories if he needed to and I informed him that he could as his heart desired and that I was not my father, so therefore, his tactics wouldn't work this time around. I thought he would crawl back into whatever hovel he had emerged from and give up. But when I turned around, something struck me from behind and the last thing I saw was him walking away –"
Frederick’s heart sank as the face of the man who had attacked him came into view and the final piece of the puzzle slipped into space, sobering him up completely.
He had seen him before – no, recently. Much recent, in fact.
“Did you come with your horse or a carriage?” Frederick questioned quickly, rising out of his seat to collect his coat and put on his shoes.
“Carriage, but – where are you going?”
“Summon the constables to my estate at once. I will head there right away,” Frederick stated hurriedly.
“To your estate? At this hour? Why? Surely we can apprehend the bastard tomorrow, seeing as it took us this long to find him anyway.” Sampson frowned, confused.
“No, it as to be now. I must return, because Eleanor is in danger. Just – do as I ask, please.”
Sampson heard the urgency in his voice and nodded.
“All right. Take the carriage and go home. I’ll personally call the constables myself. Be careful,” he told his friend seriously.
Frederick patted Sampson’s shoulder in gratitude and quickly rushed out of the room, his heart thundering as he made his way out of the house.
With his memories back, everything was much clearer than it had been, and he realized how foolish he had been, how reckless he was. He had endangered his wife, countless times, for weeks. And he still had the gall to leave her all alone.
Suddenly he was back in his estate, scolding Eleanor, while her gardener watched from beneath his straw hat with a dark expression on his face.
The same expression he had as the rock he had hit Frederick with tumbled from his hand, onto the ground, before he walked away.