Chapter 5 #2
Eleanor moved through the household without quite deciding where she meant to go. The door to the garden stood slightly ajar from earlier movement, and she passed through it without pause.
The garden beyond Beatrice’s townhouse was empty, or at least it should have been.
Eleanor crossed the threshold, already searching, and once again noticed the gap in the far wall—the same imperfect opening that had changed everything two mornings ago.
It stood slightly parted again, ivy shifting faintly around its edges in the breeze. A child’s voice carried through it.
Eleanor stepped through at once, furious.
Gabriel was in the rose garden, moving slowly along the gravel path with one hand loosely behind his back, his attention divided between the plants and something farther away.
And, as she feared, Sophie was several paces ahead of him, weaving carefully between the beds with bright concentration, stopping now and again to inspect a bloom as though conducting an important investigation.
She could not believe it. Sophie was a creative child, and more imaginative than children twice and even thrice her age, but she was not disobedient. That was, she had always listened to her mother until it came to the one man Eleanor did not want her to see.
“Do not touch that one too firmly,” Gabriel said as Eleanor came into view. “It will bruise more easily than it seems.”
Sophie turned at the sound of her mother’s step and brightened at once, clearly having forgotten their conversation.
“Mama.”
Eleanor stopped just inside the garden, her breath catching briefly before she steadied it. Given the circumstances, she could not find it in her to be angry with her daughter.
“Sophie, you were not to come through here.”
“I did not go far,” Sophie replied without remorse. “I came to show him something.”
Gabriel looked up then. He did not move immediately, though something in him shifted as he registered Eleanor’s face. The composure she had carried earlier had not fully returned, and whatever had followed Julian’s visit undoubtedly remained visible in the tension she had not yet shed.
He did not ask. Instead, he simply bowed in greeting.
“She arrived only a moment ago, I assure you.”
Eleanor’s gaze flicked to him. “I am sorry for the intrusion again.”
“It is not an intrusion,” he repeated simply.
Sophie, satisfied that neither adult intended to remove her immediately, returned to her exploration of a nearby rose. Eleanor drew a slow breath, attempting to settle herself.
“She should not be here alone.”
“She is not alone,” Gabriel replied. “She is with me, and I must say she makes for better company than one might assume.”
The words were quiet and unadorned. Something in them eased the edge of Eleanor’s tension, though she did not acknowledge it aloud.
Gabriel glanced once toward Sophie, then back to Eleanor.
“Something has happened. I could always tell.”
It was not a question. Eleanor hesitated. The instinct to contain it rose first, an effort to keep what had already fractured from spreading further. After a moment she exhaled faintly.
“A visitor,” she said.
Gabriel’s gaze remained steady. “Marbury.”
It was not a guess. Eleanor did not answer, and the silence that followed confirmed it more clearly than words could have done. Sophie called something about petals from farther down the path, unaware of the shift that had taken place behind her.
“Walk with her a moment,” he suggested. “She will tire herself that way, and will be less likely to escape through small gaps.”
Eleanor hesitated, then moved closer to Sophie, allowing the child to take her hand again as she inspected another cluster of roses. Gabriel remained where he was for a time, following at a short distance behind them without intruding or withdrawing.
The air seemed to settle into a quieter rhythm around them, as though the space itself had adjusted to the uneasy balance. Eleanor could not describe it in any way other than familiar.
She had felt this way before, and even after years had passed, she remembered it.
When Sophie finally drifted back toward the wall, Gabriel accompanied them without comment. At the gap, Eleanor paused. Sophie slipped through first, and Eleanor followed more slowly.
On the other side, Beatrice was already waiting, though not in a manner that suggested an accident. She had come into the garden almost immediately and stood with her attention fixed on the wall, as though she had anticipated their return.
“Mr. Hartley,” she said as Gabriel emerged. “How fortunate. I was just thinking of you. The chimney in the drawing room has begun to smoke slightly. It is nothing alarming, but it does require an informed opinion.”
Eleanor stopped half a pace behind Sophie, understanding the intent immediately. Gabriel did not react at once, though his stillness suggested recognition of what was being arranged.
“It would be most helpful if you might call tomorrow afternoon. A second judgment would be greatly appreciated.”
Sophie looked between the adults without concern. Eleanor felt the embarrassment arrive only after the fact, too late to stop it. Gabriel’s gaze moved briefly toward Beatrice, then toward the house, then, very briefly, toward Eleanor.
“Of course,” he said. “I would be more than happy to.”
Beatrice’s approval was immediate.
“Excellent.”
Eleanor said nothing. Gabriel bowed once more, then turned toward the gate. He did not look back. Beatrice watched him go with evident satisfaction, and Sophie tugged at Eleanor’s sleeve.
“Does smoke come from chimneys on purpose?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said automatically, grateful for the distraction.
“That seems strange,” Sophie replied.
“Aunt Beatrice,” Eleanor sighed, “you know perfectly well that there is nothing wrong with our chimney.”
“I do, but he does not, and that is what matters.”
Eleanor would have been frustrated, but her aunt gave her such a bright smile and a wink that she could not help but laugh along.
Later that evening, as the house settled into quiet, a footman entered the drawing room where Beatrice and Eleanor were seated.
“Forgive the interruption, madam. A message has been received from the solicitor in London. Lord—Lord Marbury’s petition has already been filed.”