Chapter 10 Leaving Willowbrook Manor
Chapter ten
Leaving Willowbrook Manor
Eleanor stood outside Aubrey's bedroom door, the household ledgers balanced in her arms and took a steadying breath.
She had lain awake most of the night, replaying their conversation. The way he had looked at her. The surprise in his voice when she had known his reading preferences. The guilt that had flickered across his face—there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
And the books. He had thanked her for the books.
It was such a small thing. Such an insignificant gesture. But it had been the first genuine kindness he had shown her since... since ever, if she was being honest.
Eleanor shook her head, trying to dispel the dangerous warmth that thought created. She could not—would not—allow herself to hope simply because he had said thank you. One moment of basic courtesy did not erase all her tears and sleepless nights.
She knocked and entered without waiting for permission.
Aubrey was propped against his pillows, the volume of Marcus Aurelius open in his hands. He looked up at her entrance, and Eleanor was struck again by how much stronger he appeared now, though still pale. His eyes were clearer; more alert since the laudanum reduction.
More capable of seeing her, which was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
"Good morning, my lord." Eleanor moved to the bedside and set down the ledgers. "I thought you might like to review the household accounts. To keep abreast of what is happening on your estate."
Aubrey's eyebrows rose. "You manage the accounts?"
"Someone had to." Eleanor kept her voice neutral. "Your steward sends quarterly reports, but the day-to-day management of the household requires oversight."
She saw surprise and perhaps shame flicker across his face.
"I see," he said quietly. "Yes. Thank you. I would like to review them."
Eleanor nodded and turned to leave but found herself hesitating. There was something she needed to know, something that had haunted her since their nuptial.
"My lord," she said, not turning around. "May I... may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Eleanor forced herself to turn and face him. "Your lover. What was it about her that made her so special?"
Aubrey's face went carefully blank. "I do not see how that is relevant."
"I need to know." The words came out more desperately than she would have liked.
"I have wondered for two years what I did wrong.
What was so terrible about me that you could not even try to make our marriage work.
I would have understood if you had refused the matrimony entirely.
If you had fought your parents, broken the betrothal, accepted the scandal.
But you married me. You stood before God and witnesses and made vows.
And then you punished me for it. Every day.
Every moment. And I need to understand why. "
Her voice was shaking now, but she could not stop.
"What was so extraordinary about her that you could not find even the smallest measure of courtesy for your own wife?"
The silence that followed was crushing.
Aubrey's jaw worked. Finally: "She was... kind. Gentle. She loved me for who I was."
"And you believe I could not have done the same?" Eleanor's throat felt tight. "You never gave me the chance to know you, let alone love you."
"Because you destroyed any chance we might have had by displaying your character.
" The words left him before he could think twice.
"You threatened her, told her that if she did not leave London, you would ruin her and her family.
That you would tell everyone she had compromised herself with me, that she was a scheming servant trying to trap a viscount.
You promised her that no respectable family would ever employ her again. "
Eleanor felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"
"And that was not all, was it?" Aubrey continued, his voice hard. "You had a lover since finishing school. You threatened to drag her name through the mud while protecting your own secrets."
"I—" Eleanor's mind was reeling. "My lord, I have never—I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Do not lie to me—"
"I am not lying!" The words came out sharp and desperate. "I have never met her. How could I have threatened her when I did not know she existed until after the wedding? I do not even know her name. Never wanted to put a name to the woman who kept my husband from me."
Aubrey stared at her. "That is impossible. You knew about her."
"I knew nothing!" Eleanor hugged herself, needing the comfort. "My parents told me I was to marry Viscount Madeley. That was all. I did not know you were in love with someone else. I only discovered it when servants in this household talked."
She turned away from Aubrey's shocked expression, pressing her hands to her face, fighting for control.
"I was at my parents' estate in Somerset from the moment our betrothal was announced until three days before the wedding. Ask your own parents. They visited us there twice."
Behind her, Aubrey said nothing. She could feel his gaze on her back, could sense his confusion, his turmoil.
"I do not..." His voice was hoarse. "I do not know what to believe."
Eleanor laughed—a bitter, broken sound. "Of course you do not. It would be inconvenient to discover you were wrong."
"Eleanor—"
"Lady Madeley." She forced herself to turn back, to meet his eyes.
"I think... I think it would be best if we discussed more practical matters.
I shall be leaving after Christmas. Moving to St. Catherine's Orphanage permanently.
You will need to decide whether you wish to hire someone else to manage the household accounts, or whether you will oversee them yourself. "
The change in Aubrey's expression was profound. "Leaving? You are leaving the estate?"
"Yes."
"For... for good?"
"Yes." Eleanor kept her voice steady through sheer force of will. "I have accepted a position there. I will live at the orphanage and work with the children."
"But..." Aubrey seemed genuinely stunned. "You are a viscount's daughter. You cannot simply... work at a charity. You are still young. There are other options."
"What other options?" The question came out too sharp. "Die here alone while you live in London? Continue to be pitied by everyone in the county? Spend the rest of my life waiting for a husband who will never come home?"
"But—"
"I like children, my lord." Eleanor's voice cracked despite her efforts. "I have always wanted children. I dreamed of having a family. And since I cannot have my own..."
She stopped. She could not finish the sentence, could not say aloud what they both knew—that she would never have children. Not with him. Not with anyone, trapped as she was in this empty shell of a marriage.
The tears were threatening now, burning hot behind her eyes. Eleanor turned quickly toward the door.
"Lady Madeley, wait—"
She fled before he could say anything else, before the tears could fall. Before she could reveal just how deeply his words—his doubt—had cut.
Eleanor made it to her own bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it as her legs threatened to give out. She pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to stifle the sob that wanted to escape. She then slid down to sit on the floor, her back against the door, and finally let the tears come.
Silent. Bitter. The tears of a woman who had just admitted aloud what she had been trying so hard not to acknowledge.
That she was leaving not just Willowbrook Manor, but every dream she had ever had for her life.
And that no amount of work at St. Catherine's would ever truly fill the emptiness that realisation left behind.