Chapter 5
“Aletter for you, my lady.”
Eleanor took it from her lady’s maid, who then returned to brushing Eleanor’s long brown hair. She did not recognize the handwriting on the front, nor the seal, but breaking it, she opened it out and began to read.
Her heart stopped suddenly.
“Take your leave for a moment.” Her voice was rasping, but her maid did as Eleanor requested without a word of complaint, leaving her quite alone in her room.
“My dear Eleanor,” she said aloud, looking down to the very bottom of the letter. Lord Finchley had signed his name clearly enough, but to begin his letter with such words spoke to her heart.
I cannot let it affect me, she told herself, sitting up straight as she returned to the beginning of the letter. Whatever this is, I cannot and will not let my heart feel warm towards him again.
All the same, as she began to read, tingles ran up and down her arms and made their way towards her heart.
Licking her lips, Eleanor tried to calm her frantic heartbeat, but it was to no avail.
This was the first time she had heard from Lord Finchley since the last time they had stood together in the woods.
‘My dear Eleanor, the only thing I can express to you is deep regret. I did not behave as I ought to have done in stepping away from you without explanation. I cannot beg you for your forgiveness, for it is not something I deserve. What I did was cruel and unfeeling, and I am sure that it caused you great pain. Please know that I was doing my best to protect you, though I see now that I should never have stepped away without some sort of explanation. Again, I am truly sorry for the pain and the sorrow I caused you and wish you success as you enjoy the remainder of the Season.’
Whilst the letter was well written, it took Eleanor three attempts to read it through since her eyes continued to fill with tears every time she tried to read more than two lines.
Relief puddled in her core. He had not deceived her, then.
The reason for his absence, from his pulling away, had not been given to her in its entirety, but it seemed to Eleanor’s mind that he had thought to be doing the best thing for her.
“Do I believe that?” she murmured aloud, tilting her head and looking down at the letter again.
For the last few months, she had thought the very worst of not only the situation but of Lord Finchley and of herself.
She had believed that he had been cruel towards her, that he had been laughing at her naivety and had sought to take as much affection from her as he could, only to then discard her when it pleased him.
Now, however, she was being told something entirely different, and with it came a deep and sincere apology.
Why else would he have written this letter, if it was not for the fact that he wanted her to see it?
A rogue or a scoundrel would not have written such a letter.
Nor would they have given her any sort of consideration, and most certainly would not have apologized!
Could it be, then, that he was not as she had feared?
That he had a genuine reason for leaving her, for not pursuing their courtship as he had promised?
“Protecting me?” she murmured, reading the letter for a fourth time. “Protecting me from what?”
“Eleanor?”
Her head lifted, hearing her father’s voice. “Yes, Father?”
“Your aunt and cousin have arrived. You recall we were to break our fast together this morning?”
“Yes, of course. I will be downstairs momentarily.” Eleanor folded up the letter quickly and, getting to her feet, placed it under her pillow on her bed.
It certainly required a good deal more consideration, for if she believed that what he had said was true, that he had been protecting her, then did she dare pursue it further?
Dare she go to him to find out the truth, or ought she to continue to keep her distance and admit to herself that everything between them was well and truly over?
“You look a little… thoughtful, my dear.”
Eleanor glanced at her aunt. “I apologize, I am not in the best of spirits today.”
“No?”
Sighing, Eleanor looked out of the window as the carriage took them all to the milliners. “My thoughts are somewhat confused, I confess it.”
“Because of Lord Finchley?” Catherine asked, as Eleanor nodded. “I thought you did very well when you first saw him. You did not give him the cut direct but held his gaze, and it was he who looked away first. That speaks a great deal about your courage and strength of spirit.”
“I thank you, cousin.” Eleanor smiled at her and then looked out of the window again. “I – I received a letter from him.”
A swift gasp from her cousin was the only response, her aunt remaining silent and steady.
“What I thought was not the truth,” Eleanor continued, as the carriage rattled on.
“I believed that he had only been teasing me, that he had been toying with my affections and did not truly mean a single thing when it came to courtship and marriage. Whilst I was glad that he did not press me further into my affection and did not take advantage of me, I believed him a scoundrel.”
“And that is not what he says?”
Eleanor shook her head, glancing at her aunt and then at her cousin, seeing the concern in both of their expressions. “He stated that he was protecting me as best he could and says, in more than a few words, just how wrong he was to depart without explanation. I believe he truly feels deep regret.”
Silence followed her remarks, and Eleanor let out a slow breath, waiting for her aunt or cousin to say something – but nothing came. Lady Cumbria turned her head to the window, her frown remaining, while Catherine took Eleanor’s hand and pressed it, but still said nothing.
“You do not think I should believe him,” Eleanor said slowly, breaking into the quiet, unable to bear the lack of response. “You think him untrustworthy.”
Lady Cumbria let out a small huff of breath. “It is not that, no,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully. “I do not think he speaks falsely, in fact. What concerns me is why he is telling you now.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows lifted. “I had not thought of his purpose in sending me that letter.”
“Could he desire to return to you?” Catherine asked, as Eleanor quickly shook her head no. “You do not think so?”
“Given that he said he knew I could not forgive him, I do not think there is any expectation of that.” Her eyes closed, a sharp pain stabbing her heart.
“Besides that, he also wished me success this Season before ending the letter. That does not suggest that he hopes I might return to him… or he to me.”
Her cousin pressed her hand again and then released it. “I am sorry, Eleanor.”
With a gentle toss of her head, Eleanor drew herself up. “I am determined not to care,” she said, lying to herself as she spoke. “But I must admit, I am a little curious as to what it is he sought to protect me from.”
Lady Cumbria’s eyebrows rose. “Then that is what is troubling your thoughts, yes? Whether you wish to do that or not?”
Eleanor nodded.
“I cannot advise you,” Lady Cumbria said, with a small, slightly sad smile. “That is to say, I could tell you what my thoughts are, but I am choosing not to do so. This must be your own decision.”
A little confused, Eleanor held her aunt’s gaze. “I thought you would wish to advise me, Aunt.”
“Oh, I am glad to listen to you and to hear whatever it is you have to say, but no, I shall not tell you what you should or should not do.” Her aunt looked down at her hands in her lap.
“All I shall say is that I did not pursue something akin to this when I was a debutante. I regret still that I did not.”
Catherine’s eyes flared wide, and she stared at her mother in shock.
“Much to my relief, the love of my life returned to me after some years apart,” Lady Cumbria continued, her smile returning.
“But still, whilst I have great happiness now and have had for many years, I often think about what might have become of me if my dear husband had not chosen to come back to me as he did.”
This made Eleanor’s heart squeeze painfully.
She had already lived some months being separated from Lord Finchley, having believed him to be the very worst sort of gentleman, and she the greatest fool in all of England.
That letter had changed everything. No longer did she think poorly of him, no longer did she believe herself to be na?ve.
Instead, she saw that there was this as yet unknown object that had come between them and, whilst he ought to have explained, he had chosen not to do so and to step away – and that, in some way, had protected her.
She looked down at her lap and then closed her eyes.
“I think I must find out from him what happened. Even if it leads to nothing more than a conversation, I will be glad to know the truth.” A curl of anticipation began to fill her core, but Eleanor pushed it away hurriedly.
She could not let herself hope for anything more than an understanding of the past, for that was all she could pursue at the present moment – and even then, that might not come.
“Is that not Lord Finchley there?”
Her head shot up, and she quickly moved to the other side of the carriage, looking out of the window. Catherine was sitting opposite, her finger pressed against the window. “See? He is standing there, and that child has pressed something into his hand.”
A rap on the roof from Eleanor’s aunt had the carriage come to a stop.
“A note?” Eleanor watched as the child scampered away, having delivered his message. She blinked in confusion, watching Lord Finchley’s face darken as he read the note in his hand.
Then, without warning, he began to run after the child in question, following him down a dark alleyway with hurried steps, though Eleanor did not believe that he would be able to catch the boy.
Whatever was he doing?
“We can continue, Mother,” Catherine said, sitting back in her seat and gazing at Eleanor with wide eyes. “Well, whatever that was about, it clearly upset Lord Finchley.”
“And it may not have anything to do with the past circumstances between you,” Lady Cumbria warned as Eleanor tried to be sensible and listen to all that was being said.
“It could be something quite uninteresting, such as another gentleman refusing to pay what he owes Lord Finchley from a game of cards or the like.”
“It could be, yes,” Eleanor agreed, her curiosity burning like hot coals in her stomach.
“But I do not think that I can linger on in silence, Aunt.” Seeing the understanding flicker in Lady Cumbria’s eyes, she let herself smile quietly.
“I must know more. I must know why he stepped away from me as he did and what it is that he protected me from. For if he is not a scoundrel, as I believed him to be, then he is the honorable, kind-hearted and affectionate gentleman that I fell in love with… and still love today.”
It was not difficult for her to admit such a thing aloud, and there came no surprise into either her aunt’s expression or her cousin’s eyes.
Eleanor was relieved at that, glad that neither of them thought her foolish for having such a deep affection for the gentleman, still although she could not even think to imagine what Lord Finchley felt for her, if anything at all.
“Very well,” Lady Cumbria said, gently. “But be careful and cautious, my dear. Do not allow your hope to grow too strong, for you may yet find it dashed to pieces.”
Eleanor nodded. “Thank you, Aunt. I shall be very careful indeed, I promise you.”