Chapter 11
Nearly a week had passed since the wedding, and Eleanor was beginning to feel like she was a part of it all.
The household rose early, breakfasted together, and dispersed to their separate occupations. Gabriel spent long hours with the steward or shut away in his study, William alternated between periods of strength and rest, while Cassandra rarely strayed far from her husband’s side.
Eleanor gradually learned the management of the house from Mrs. Dobson, discovering which servants had been with the Hartleys for decades and which were newly hired, which tenants preferred to speak directly to the master and which sought out the housekeeper first.
It was ordinary work, and she found herself unexpectedly grateful for it.
There was comfort in deciding the week’s menus, arranging flowers for the drawing room, and seeing to the endless small matters that kept a great house running.
For a few precious hours each day, she could almost forget that a court date loomed.
She had just finished speaking with Mrs. Dobson about the household accounts when a knock sounded at the morning room door.
“Come in.”
Gabriel entered, removing his gloves as he entered.
“I hope I am not interrupting.”
Mrs. Dobson closed the ledger at once.
“Not at all, sir. We had just finished.”
With a discreet curtsy, the housekeeper withdrew, leaving Eleanor and Gabriel alone. Neither spoke immediately. It was becoming a familiar sort of silence, no longer awkward but still uncertain, each of them waiting for the other to determine how close they ought to stand.
Gabriel broke it first.
“There is a ball at the Ashcrofts’ tomorrow evening.”
Eleanor looked up. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“And forgetting is not an option?”
“I fear not.”
He stepped nearer, though not so near as to make either of them uncomfortable.
“It would be useful,” he continued. “If we remain hidden at Ravenscourt, people will invent their own explanations. If we attend together, they will see a husband standing beside his wife.”
She studied him for a moment. “Do you believe that will matter?”
“I believe Julian would prefer we did not.”
That alone answered the question. Eleanor folded her hands together.
“Very well.”
Gabriel seemed almost surprised she had agreed so readily.
“I married you to protect Sophie,” she continued. “I suppose dancing with you is rather less frightening than standing before a judge.”
For the first time in days, Gabriel laughed. It was quiet and brief, but genuine.
“I should hope so. I shall have the carriage prepared for seven.”
“I will be ready.”
He inclined his head.
“Thank you.”
As he turned to leave, Eleanor found herself smiling without realizing it.
That evening, the nursery fire burned low while Sophie, freshly bathed and wrapped in her nightdress, climbed determinedly onto William’s bed with a storybook tucked beneath one arm. Eleanor looked on, uncertain whether or not to smile.
“You promised,” she reminded him.
“I did.”
William looked toward Cassandra with exaggerated resignation.
“I appear to have no choice.”
“You never did,” Cassandra replied fondly.
But before William could begin reading, another figure appeared in the doorway. The dowager.
“I believe,” she announced, “that my son has delayed bedtime long enough.”
Sophie looked up hopefully. “Will you tell the story instead?”
“If I have even less choice than my son, then I will have to do so.”
William coughed to hide a laugh. The dowager crossed the room, accepting the book from Sophie before settling beside her.
“Now,” she said, opening the first page, “let us discover whether dragons are as troublesome tonight as they were yesterday.”
Sophie immediately tucked herself against her side. Eleanor watched quietly from the doorway. The sight warmed something inside her she had scarcely dared hope for. The dowager had remained courteous since the wedding, careful without being affectionate, but this was different.
No child nestled so comfortably beside someone who had not invited her there. The story had scarcely begun when the dowager glanced toward Eleanor.
“Eleanor, when Sophie is asleep, would you come to my sitting room for a moment?”
“Of course.”
***
The dowager’s private sitting room overlooked the western gardens, where the last light of sunset had given way to deepening twilight.
She was waiting beside a small mahogany cabinet when Eleanor entered.
The older woman unlocked the cabinet before lifting out a polished case and carrying it to the table between them.
“I have been thinking about tomorrow evening.”
Eleanor’s brow furrowed slightly. “The ball?”
“Yes.”
The dowager opened the case. Nestled against dark blue velvet lay a necklace of deep sapphires surrounded by brilliant diamonds, accompanied by matching earrings and a delicate bracelet that caught the candlelight with every movement.
Eleanor gasped. “They are beautiful.”
“They are Hartley sapphires. They have belonged to the ladies of this family for generations.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “I could not possibly—“
“You can.”
The older woman’s tone left little room for argument.
“But—“
“You are Mrs. Gabriel Hartley. The county will be watching, and I have no intention of allowing society to imagine my son’s wife not belonging entirely.”
Emotion caught unexpectedly in Eleanor’s throat.
“They will see these sapphires,” the dowager continued as she fastened the necklace gently around Eleanor’s neck. “They will recognize them. They will also understand exactly what I mean by lending them.”
Eleanor looked down at the stones resting against her gown. For a long moment neither woman spoke. Finally, Eleanor raised her eyes.
“You have every reason to resent me.”
The dowager’s expression softened in a way Eleanor had not seen since her girlhood.
“I had reasons to be disappointed. I have never had reason to doubt that my son thought highly of you. I believe he still does.”
Eleanor felt her breath catch. Before she could find an answer, the Dowager reached out and gently straightened one sapphire that had turned slightly against the chain.
“Whatever happened six years ago,” she said softly, “you are one of us now.”
And even though she did not know for certain that she could trust it, Eleanor felt the truth of those words begin to take root. The sapphires resting against her skin were beautiful, but it was the acceptance behind them that carried the greater weight.
She found herself blinking back unexpected tears as the older woman quietly pretended not to notice.
***
The following evening, Hartley carriage waited before the front steps, its lanterns glowing softly against the gathering dusk. Gabriel offered Eleanor his hand with the same courtesy he had shown since their wedding, and she placed her gloved fingers in his.
He helped her inside before turning to assist Cassandra. The dowager had elected to remain at Ravenscourt with William and Sophie, declaring herself far too sensible to endure an evening of dancing when there was a perfectly good fire and an entertaining seven-year-old waiting at home.
For the first few moments, only the gentle rumble of the carriage filled the silence. The lamps outside cast shifting bands of gold across the interior, brightening and fading as they rolled through the streets of Bath. Cassandra’s gaze settled on the sapphires resting against Eleanor’s throat.
“The necklace suits you.”
The compliment came politely enough.
“Our mother-in-law was generous enough to lend it to me.”
“She has never lent them before. I suppose, given the circumstances, exceptions had to be made.”
Eleanor lowered her eyes to the deep blue stones. Gabriel looked from one woman to the other.
“Cassandra, the jewels belong to my mother.”
“They do.”
“And Mother chose to lend them.”
“I am aware.”
“Then I see no reason for the matter to occupy any further conversation.”
His tone remained calm, but there was enough finality in it to end the exchange. Cassandra looked out the window.
“As you wish.”
Silence returned. Eleanor clasped her hands together in her lap, suddenly wishing she had refused the sapphires after all.
They felt unexpectedly heavy against her skin, each cool stone a reminder that no matter what title she bore, there were still those who questioned whether she belonged among the Hartleys.
The dowager had claimed that it was for the Hartley ladies, but if that were true, then why had Cassandra been snubbed?
It had to have been to make a statement and nothing more, just as Cassandra had suggested, and it made Eleanor’s heart ache. It was unrealistic to believe she would be so quickly accepted again, but she wanted it to be true.
“We have arrived,” Gabriel said after a while, his voice returning to its usual calm cadence.
Pelham House blazed with light. Every window shimmered against the evening sky while music drifted through the open doors. Carriages crowded the drive, footmen hurrying between them and elegantly dressed ladies ascending the broad stone steps.
Gabriel stepped down first before turning to offer Eleanor his hand.
“You need not be afraid.”
“I am trying not to be.”
“I know.” He smiled as he tucked her hand through his arm. “Stay with me.”
The words were spoken as practical advice, but they sounded remarkably like reassurance. The butler appeared to greet them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Hartley.”
The announcement echoed across the ballroom. Conversation faltered at once. It did not cease altogether, but it softened enough for Eleanor to feel every curious glance settling upon her.
She recognized many of the faces. Mrs. Winthrop, who had once insisted Eleanor join every musicale she hosted, now stared openly before remembering that it was impolite. Lady Ashbury, who had failed to acknowledge Eleanor only a fortnight earlier, recovered first.
“Mrs. Hartley. I am so very pleased you could attend.”