Chapter 19 #2
The answer came so easily, so honestly. There was no uncertainty in her voice, and no careful weighing of possibilities, just happiness. Eleanor found herself smiling.
“You sound very sure.”
Bessie tilted her head.
“I suppose I am.”
“How do you know?”
The young maid thought for a moment.
“I do not know if there is a way to explain it properly. I simply feel happy when he is near. Even when we are only speaking about ordinary things.”
Her smile became quieter.
“He makes ordinary things feel special.”
The words settled over Eleanor. Bessie continued, unaware of how much meaning they carried.
“He asks about my day. He remembers things I tell him. He always makes certain I have enough help carrying things when I need it. Once, he repaired the loose handle on my basket because he noticed I was struggling with it.”
Eleanor smiled.
“That is very thoughtful.”
“It is. I think that is what I like most. He pays attention.”
The simplicity of it struck Eleanor. Paying attention to someone seemed such a small thing, yet somehow, it felt like everything.
“He sounds like a very good man.”
“He is. I know it is silly. We have only spoken properly a handful of times—”
“It is not silly.”
“But everything feels so easy.”
Eleanor looked down at her hands. Bessie did not worry about whether she was too much or not enough.
She did not wonder if every kindness she was shown carried a hidden meaning.
She did not have to question whether the person she cared for saw her as a person or simply a responsibility. She simply knew.
Eleanor envied that more than she wanted to admit.
“It must be lovely,” she said softly. “To care for someone without fear.”
The words escaped before Eleanor could stop them. Bessie’s smile changed slightly, her happiness becoming gentler.
“Your Grace...”
Eleanor immediately smiled.
“I am only saying that it sounds peaceful.”
Bessie studied her for a moment, but did not press. Instead, she reached for a ribbon she had been tying into Eleanor’s hair and began arranging it absentmindedly.
“I hope everyone gets to feel that way one day.”
Eleanor looked away. So did she, even though she was not certain whether she had missed her chance.
Bessie continued speaking about William with the same warmth that had filled her voice from the beginning, describing small moments that would have seemed insignificant to anyone else but had become precious to her.
Eleanor listened and smiled, genuinely happy for her maid. There was something wonderfully innocent about the affection Bessie described. There were no doubts woven into it, no careful consideration of what might go wrong, no fear of what the future might bring.
Perhaps that was what made Eleanor’s heart ache, because she had once believed love was supposed to feel like certainty. Instead, she had found herself caught between what she had lost and what she had never expected to find.
She had entered into her marriage with Alexander believing she understood exactly what it was, and she had told herself she could accept it.
She had told herself she did not need anything more, but somewhere along the way, things had changed.
The longer she remained at Ashbourne, the more complicated everything became.
Every kindness from Alexander made her question the distance between them.
Every moment of tenderness made the coldness that followed hurt more. She had allowed herself to hope without ever admitting that she was hoping.
And that was her greatest mistake.
She should have been honest from the beginning. She should have told him what she felt before those feelings had grown into something she could no longer control. She should have spoken when there was still time to explain herself without causing pain.
Instead, she had remained silent. She had hidden behind the same walls Alexander had built around himself, and she did not know how to find her way back.
“You are very quiet, Your Grace.”
Bessie’s gentle observation pulled Eleanor from her thoughts. She looked toward her maid and smiled.
“Am I?”
“A little.”
Eleanor glanced down, realizing she had been absentmindedly turning the edge of her sleeve between her fingers.
“I suppose I was simply thinking.”
“About the fête you were preparing for this morning?”
The question was innocent. Eleanor almost wished it had not been.
“Yes,” she replied after a moment. “About the fête.”
Bessie smiled. “I think it will be lovely.”
“I hope so.”
“It will be. Everyone is already talking about it.”
Eleanor laughed softly. “You make it sound as though I have created some grand event.”
“Perhaps you have.”
“It is only a gathering.”
“Sometimes gatherings become grand events. It entirely depends on who is hosting, and if I know you, then it will be one to remember.”
The sweetness of the statement made Eleanor smile. The two women laughed together, and for a brief moment, Eleanor allowed herself to be carried along by Bessie’s happiness.
But the sound of her own laughter felt strangely distant, hollow, because beneath it remained the same painful truth she could not escape.
Her thoughts returned to the man she had married out of duty, the man who could be so gentle one moment and unreachable the next.
Sometimes she felt as though she caught glimpses of the person hidden beneath his restraint, and then he would retreat again, leaving her wondering whether she had imagined the closeness entirely.
Bessie continued talking beside her, still smiling as she described William’s latest attempt at repairing a fence at the stables, and Eleanor listened as best she could.
She wanted to feel only happiness for her, which of course she did, for the most part, but a small, painful part of her wondered what it must be like to love someone who made loving them easy.
Eleanor looked toward the window, where the gardens stretched beyond the glass, the same gardens where Alexander had looked at her as though she had mattered to him and then pulled away, seemingly without a second thought or even a consideration as to what she wanted.
She had built a sanctuary among the flowers, but she was beginning to fear that they had become another place where she was trapped.