Chapter 12 Family Arrival
Chapter twelve
Family Arrival
Eleanor sat at her writing desk, staring at the household ledger she had retrieved from her study.
She was done crying. Had spent the first hour after leaving Aubrey's room in tears—messy, ugly tears that left her face blotched and her eyes swollen. But tears solved nothing, and Eleanor had never been one to wallow.
Now she was thinking.
She opened the ledger to the entries for Rose Beaumont and studied them with a new, colder eye.
If Rose had been courting Aubrey all summer, if she had known about the betrothal, if she had been weaving lies about Eleanor threatening her—then how much of the rest was true?
Eleanor pulled out the letters Rose had sent her over the years. Not many—Rose was not a prolific correspondent. But there were enough.
She read through them carefully, looking for... what? Clues? Inconsistencies?
My lady, I am grateful beyond words for your continued generosity. The child is healthy and well. We are settled comfortably in our cottage thanks to your kindness.
No mention of the father. No details about the "betrothed" who had abandoned her. Just gratitude and general updates.
The doctor says the baby is thriving. Your support has made all the difference. I do not know how I would have managed without you.
Again, nothing specific. Nothing that confirmed the story Rose had told in that first desperate letter.
Eleanor set down the correspondence and stared at nothing, her mind working.
What if there had been no betrothed? What if Rose had lied about that too?
What if the baby was...
No. Aubrey had been adamant. He had sounded genuinely appalled at the suggestion that the child might be his.
And whatever else he was, Aubrey did not seem like a man who would lie about that.
His anger, his resentment, his punishment of her—all of it had been driven by what he believed was the truth.
A liar would have been more careful, more calculating.
Eleanor pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the beginning of a headache.
Tomorrow, Liz would arrive with her family. Eleanor would have to smile and pretend everything was fine.
She could not afford to fall apart. Not now. Not with her sister's sharp eyes watching. Not with three children who would need her attention and energy.
Eleanor closed the ledger and stood, moving to her mirror.
Her reflection showed the damage—red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, hair escaping its pins. She looked exactly like a woman who had just discovered her lady's maid had been secretly courting her betrothed.
She needed to compose herself. Needed to be strong.
She was done being a victim, being passive. Done accepting whatever fate threw at her.
She splashed cold water on her face, pinned her hair with steady hands, and took a deep breath.
Tomorrow. She would think about Rose tomorrow. Would decide what to do about the monthly payments. Would consider whether to write to Rose demanding answers.
Tonight, she would prepare for her sister's arrival.
And she would not give Aubrey or Rose the satisfaction of her defeat.
The Midleton family arrived in a chaos of luggage, children, and noise that transformed Willowbrook Manor in an instant.
Eleanor stood in the entrance hall, bracing herself, as her sister descended from the carriage with the practiced efficiency of a woman who had travelled with small children.
"Ellie!" Liz enveloped her in a hug that smelled of lavender and child and home. "Oh, let me look at you. Good heavens, you look dreadful. What has happened?"
"I am perfectly well," Eleanor said, pulling back with a forced smile. "Just tired. Managing the household, you know."
"Tired." Liz's eyes—sharp and knowing—swept over Eleanor's face. "Yes. I am certain that is all it is."
Before Eleanor could respond, three small tornadoes erupted from the carriage.
"Aunt Ellie! Aunt Ellie!" The twins—James and William, aged six—barrelled into her with the force of small cannonballs. Behind them, three-year-old Catherine toddled forward with arms outstretched.
"Auntie!"
Eleanor caught Catherine up in her arms, burying her face in the child's soft hair for just a moment. The simple, uncomplicated love of a child—it was exactly what she needed.
"Hello, darlings," she managed, blinking back sudden tears. "I have missed you all so much."
Liz's husband, Michael Midleton, descended from the carriage with the weary air of a man who had survived a long journey with three energetic children. "Lady Madeley. Thank you for having us. We promise not to destroy your home. Hopefully."
"You are most welcome, Lord Midleton." Eleanor set Catherine down. "Mrs Williams has prepared the nursery wing. James, William, would you like to see your rooms?"
"Are there soldiers?" James demanded. "You promised there would be soldiers!"
"An entire regiment," Eleanor assured him. "In the toy chest."
The twins whooped and raced inside, followed by Mrs Williams and a harried-looking nurse.
Liz linked her arm through Eleanor's and lowered her voice. "Now. Before Michael and Catherine follow them and before I must pretend to be a proper guest, tell me what is wrong. And do not say 'nothing.' You look like you have been crying for days."
Eleanor opened her mouth to deflect, but Liz's expression stopped her. Her sister had always been able to see through her.
"Not here," Eleanor said quietly. "Later. After the children are settled. I will tell you everything."
"You had better." Liz's voice was fierce. "Because if someone has hurt you, Ellie, I will unleash the hounds."
"My lord husband is currently upstairs recovering admirably," Eleanor interrupted. "That is all I will say for now."
The children were finally settled in the nursery, their excited voices echoing through the halls as they explored the toy chest Eleanor had carefully prepared. Michael had retreated to the library with a relieved sigh, grateful for a moment's peace.
Which left Eleanor alone with Liz in her bedroom as the winter sun began its descent.
"Let me help you change for dinner," Liz said, already moving to Eleanor's wardrobe.
"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself—"
"Humour me." Liz pulled out a dove grey silk dinner dress and examined it critically. "This will do. Now sit and let me fix your hair. It is coming out of its pins."
Eleanor sat at her dressing table with a sigh, watching in the mirror as Liz's deft fingers began unpinning her hair.
"Where is your lady's maid?" Liz asked, running a brush through Eleanor's chestnut locks.
Eleanor's hands clenched in her lap. "I... I have not replaced her."
"Not replaced her? Ellie, you have been without a proper lady's maid for two years?"
"I go nowhere that requires elaborate dressing.
My days are spent managing the estate, visiting the orphanage, attending to household matters.
" Eleanor ran both hands over her practical dress.
"I wear simple, practical dresses. I do not even bother with stays anymore.
There is little point when one is as small as I am and has no one to impress. "
Liz's hands stilled in Eleanor's hair. "Why don’t you write to Rose? See if she would consider returning."
Eleanor's throat tightened, so she said nothing.
Liz resumed brushing, but her eyes in the mirror were sharp, concerned. "Ellie, what is going on? And do not tell me nothing. You look as though you have not slept properly in weeks. Is it your husband? Is Lord Madeley cruel to you?"
Eleanor closed her eyes. "Rose was not just my lady's maid."
"What do you mean?"
"She was..." Eleanor forced herself to continue. "She was the woman Aubrey was in love with. And he believed I had driven her away."
The brush clattered onto the dressing table.
"What?" Liz's voice was sharp with shock.
And so, Eleanor told her. All of it.
When she finished, Liz was pale with fury.
"That scheming little trollop!" Liz whisper shouted. "I am going to drag her here and demand an apology! Where does she live? I will go there myself!"
"Liz, no." Eleanor's voice was tired. "What would be the point? It is done. The damage is done."
"The point would be making her face what she did! Making her tell the truth!"
"She lied to both of us." Eleanor stared at her reflection. "Moreover, she accepted my money while I had no idea she was the reason my marriage was destroyed before it began."
Liz's hands found Eleanor's shoulders, gripping them. "How are you so calm about this? You should be furious!"
"I was furious." Eleanor's voice cracked slightly. "I am angry and hurt and shocked and devastated. But I have been angry and hurt for so long. I am so tired of feeling this way. I want to move on with my life and not be burdened by hatred any longer."
"He punished you for something you did not do." Liz met her sister's eyes in the mirror. "He chose to believe the worst of you, then abandon you. Made your life a misery without ever once asking for your side of the story. How can you nurse him when he’s wronged you so abominably?"
"Because he is my husband." Eleanor's voice was barely above a whisper. "Because he is injured and helpless and suffering. He needs me. Because despite everything, he is... he is hard to hate."
"Hard to hate?" Liz's eyebrows rose. "After everything he has done?"
"He is not what I expected." Eleanor's hands twisted in her lap. "He is angry, yes. Resentful. But also... confused. Hurt. He genuinely believed Rose. Genuinely thought I had destroyed his happiness. And now he is beginning to realise he might have been wrong, and I can see it eating at him."
"Good. Let it eat at him. Let him realise exactly what he threw away." Liz resumed working on Eleanor's hair, her movements brisk. "You are too forgiving, Ellie. You always have been."
"I am leaving, so it hardly matters whether I forgive him or not," Eleanor said flatly. "We will go our separate ways, and this nightmare will finally be over."
Liz's hands stilled again. "You are truly going through with that?"
"Yes."