Chapter 15
Eleanor had known the day would come when she would have to answer for herself. Knowing that did not make it easier.
The summons to the solicitor’s chambers arrived early that morning, leaving little time for preparation beyond the practical necessities.
She dressed carefully, choosing a gown that was simple and respectable rather than fashionable, unwilling to give anyone the slightest reason to suggest she cared more for appearances than the seriousness of the matter before her.
Yet as she descended the stairs at Ravenscourt, she felt as though she were walking toward a judgment that was already decided.
Gabriel was waiting for her in the hall.
He did not say that everything would be fine.
Eleanor knew enough about him to know he would never offer comfort he could not guarantee.
Instead, he simply took her gloves from her hand when he saw her struggling to fasten them and helped her.
“We will not allow them to turn this into something it is not,” he said.
The words were calm, but there was a determination beneath them. Eleanor looked at him.
“You sound very certain.”
“I am certain,” Gabriel replied. “You know your own heart. They may twist your words, but they cannot change the truth. Today, they will hear that truth, and they will accept it.”
It should have comforted her. Instead, it reminded her of how much was at stake.
Besides that, the truth had not always been enough.
They had arrived in Bath believing that reason and innocence would protect her.
Eleanor had believed that if she appeared outwardly as though she were not afraid, if she answered honestly and behaved with dignity, people would eventually see through the rumors.
She had since learned otherwise.
The solicitor’s chambers were quieter than Eleanor had expected.
She had imagined something harsher, a room filled with accusation and hostility, but the reality was somehow worse.
The stillness made every sound seem deliberate.
The scratching of a pen across paper, the turning of a document, the faint movement of the fire behind the grate—everything felt arranged.
Gabriel remained at her side as they entered. He did not touch her, but his presence was a steadying one. He had promised she would not face it alone, and he had meant it. The solicitor rose from behind his desk and gave a small bow of his head.
“Lady Marbury, Sir Gabriel, thank you for attending. I regret the circumstances require such formality, but given the petition brought forward by Lord Julian Marbury, it is necessary that your statement be recorded carefully.”
Eleanor simply nodded. “I understand.”
The solicitor gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Please sit. We will begin with your marriage to the late Lord Marbury.”
Eleanor sat, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
“Your marriage was arranged, was it not?”
“Yes.”
“And it was not a love match.”
The question was simple, but the implication beneath it was not.
“No,” Eleanor answered quietly.
“Would it be fair to say that the marriage was difficult?”
“It was not the marriage I would have chosen for myself.”
“And yet you remained in it despite being unhappy?”
Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly, and the solicitor noticed.
“Sir Gabriel, do you have an objection to the question?”
“I object to the suggestion being made before the answer has been given,” Gabriel replied calmly. “My wife is being asked to describe a marriage, not confirm an assumption.”
“Of course. Lady Marbury?”
Eleanor looked down briefly.
“I remained because I had responsibilities. It was my duty to be a good wife, and I would like to think that is what I was.”
The solicitor wrote again.
“And after Lord Marbury’s death, you inherited responsibility for his daughter and a considerable fortune.”
“Our daughter.”
“And access to her inheritance.”
Eleanor looked up sharply. “That money belongs to my daughter.”
“Yes, Lady Marbury. But as her guardian, you would have authority over its use.”
“Only for her benefit.”
“Naturally.”
The solicitor’s tone was polite, but Eleanor heard the trap forming.
“Let us discuss your husband’s death. You have stated previously that Lord Marbury was unwell in the days before he died, and you were present during his illness.”
“Yes.”
“You attended to him personally.”
“Of course. I was his wife.”
Eleanor felt her shoulders tighten. The solicitor looked down at the papers before him.
“You have admitted that your marriage was unhappy. You have admitted that you would have preferred a different life. You have admitted that your husband’s death left you responsible for a large inheritance.”
Gabriel moved slightly. The room went quiet. Eleanor looked at him, and for a brief moment the fear inside her eased, but only slightly. The questioning continued.
“Lady Marbury, did you ever discuss Lord Marbury’s will with him before his death?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever discuss Sophie’s inheritance?”
“Of course. It was my responsibility to understand what would become of her.”
The solicitor leaned back. Eleanor wished desperately that she knew what he was thinking. She hated that everyone around her cast judgment over her as though they knew her, especially because they were entirely wrong.
“Or,” the solicitor suggested, “did you believe it was your responsibility to ensure you retained control of it?”
Eleanor went still. “No. Never.”
“Lady Marbury, are you asking this court to believe that you had no interest in the fortune attached to your daughter’s name?”
“I am asking the court to believe that I love my daughter,” she replied, anger rising above the fear that she felt.
The solicitor looked at her. “And yet love does not always prevent people from acting in their own interest.”
The words struck harder than she expected. For a moment, Eleanor could not answer, because that was the cruelty of it all. They did not need to accuse her outright, they only needed to make every innocent thing she had done appear suspicious.
Gabriel placed his hand over hers beneath the edge of the desk, hidden from the others. It was a small gesture from him, a reminder to stay steady.
The solicitor eventually closed the file before him.
“I believe we have covered enough for today.”
Eleanor rose, though her legs felt unsteady. The moment they stepped outside into the cool air, she felt as though she could finally breathe again, but the relief did not last. She looked toward Gabriel, her voice barely above a whisper.
“He made me sound like a stranger to my own child.”
Gabriel turned toward her. “He tried to.”
“But what if they succeed? What if they decide I am not worthy of her?”
“Eleanor—“
“What if they take her? I can endure anything they say about me. I can endure their whispers, I can endure them believing the worst of me, but Sophie… Sophie is the one thing I cannot lose.”
Her voice cracked as she said it. Gabriel looked at her for a long moment before answering.
“You will not lose her.”
She truly did want to believe him.
The carriage ride back to Ravenscourt was quiet, but it was not the strained silence that had existed between them when they first entered into their arrangement.
The questions from the solicitor’s chambers still followed Eleanor.
She could still hear the careful wording, the way innocent answers had been turned into suggestions of guilt.
She had endured the questioning, but now that it was over and she was no longer required to sit upright and offer measured answers beneath the watchful eyes of strangers, the exhaustion of it all began to settle over her. Gabriel noticed.
He always seemed to notice.
“You need not pretend with me,” he said gently.
“I am not pretending.”
His faint laugh told her he did not believe her.
“You have spent years convincing everyone you can carry anything placed upon you.”
“Someone has to.”
“That does not mean it should always be you.”
The words affected her more than she wanted them to, because she could tell that he did not say them as a husband fulfilling an obligation. He said them because he genuinely believed she had carried too much for too long.
“I thought you would tell me I did well today,” she admitted.
“You did.”
She glanced back at him.
“But?”
“But I also think they were unfair. They were taking every difficult thing in your life and making it appear suspicious. It was cruel, but I would not be too concerned. I will not allow them to do that to you again.”
Eleanor lowered her gaze. “I am not accustomed to anyone defending me.”
“You should be.”
Her breath caught slightly. The kindness of it was almost more difficult to bear than anger at the situation would have been.
The carriage continued along the road, the wheels moving steadily over the ground, and Eleanor found herself painfully aware of how close he sat to her, and how familiar his presence felt despite everything that had happened between them.
Then the carriage shifted slightly as it turned.
Eleanor’s hand slipped against the seat, and Gabriel reached for her without thinking, his fingers closing around hers.
The contact lasted only a moment, but it felt longer.
Eleanor looked down at their hands and felt the old ache that she had felt before.
This was the part of Gabriel she had missed most: the instinctive kindness, the way he cared without needing to announce it. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to remember.
Then another image rose in her mind, Cassandra beside him at William’s sickbed, laughing softly with him. Cassandra knew every part of the life Eleanor had missed.
The warmth faded beneath the fear, and Eleanor gently withdrew her hand. Gabriel noticed, but he did not ask why. She was grateful for that, because she could not explain that her fear was not that she might begin loving him again.
It was that she might begin hoping he loved her too, and she could not allow herself to hope when she had already seen where his heart appeared to belong.