Chapter 17
Eleanor spent the better part of the morning convincing herself that she was making the sensible choice.
It was what she had always done when circumstances became unbearable. She looked at what was practical and what would cause the least difficulty for those around her, and she shaped herself around it. The trouble was that, for once, she could not pretend the decision did not hurt.
Her eyes rested on the blank page before her. She had written letters under far more difficult circumstances. She had written to agree to a marriage she did not want, and to reassure others while quietly falling apart herself.
This letter should have been simple. She was only asking Beatrice whether she and Sophie might return to their own home once the case was settled.
There was nothing improper in that, nothing unreasonable, and certainly nothing that should make her hand tremble, yet the thought of leaving Ravenscourt felt like another loss.
Gabriel had been everything she had once remembered and everything she had feared he would become.
He was considerate, patient, and endlessly honorable.
He had defended her when society turned against her, stood beside her through every difficult conversation, done everything a good man should have done, and perhaps that was what made it worse, because kindness did not mean love.
Eleanor lowered her gaze and began writing.
She could not tell Beatrice everything—that she had overheard a conversation she was never meant to hear.
It was for the best that she only said what was necessary, for writing it down would make it all the more real and Eleanor did not wish to face it yet.
Aunt Beatrice,
I hope you will forgive me for writing instead of coming to see you. I do not think that I can say this to you directly. I have been thinking carefully about what may be best once the present difficulties have ended, and I am uncertain that imposing upon your kindness for longer is necessary.
Ravenscourt has shown us great generosity, and I shall always be grateful for the protection it has offered, however I believe it may be best for Sophie and me to seek a quieter arrangement once the case is resolved. If we were to return to our own home—
Her pen hovered over the page as she considered the phrasing. It sounded so reasonable, unlike the truth.
The truth was that she could not bear remaining in a house where every room reminded her that Gabriel’s heart belonged elsewhere.
She could not watch him stand beside Cassandra and pretend it did not hurt.
She could not accept his kindness while knowing she might only be receiving it because he felt responsible for the woman he had once loved.
The sound of the door opening made her quickly cover the page. She turned and found Gabriel standing in the doorway.
Her first instinct was to smile. The reaction surprised her, and she was furious with herself for it. Even after what she had decided, some part of her still responded to him before reason could intervene.
“I did not hear you enter.”
“I noticed.”
His gaze moved briefly toward the desk, and Eleanor saw the moment he noticed the letter. She wished she could have hidden it better, partly because she was ashamed of leaving, but also because she was ashamed of how much she wanted him to ask her not to.
“What are you writing?”
“A letter to my Aunt Beatrice. I—I thought it wise to make arrangements for Sophie and myself after the case is concluded, like we discussed.”
The silence that followed told her he understood.
“Do you truly wish to leave?”
She looked down, for if she looked him in the eye she knew she would change her mind.
“I believe it may be best.”
“Best for whom?”
“For everyone.”
“Eleanor, what has happened?”
She almost laughed. The way he asked so sincerely hurt more than anger would have.
“Nothing has happened,” she replied.
“I do not believe that.”
She looked back toward the letter.
“I suppose you would not.” She sighed before clearing her throat. “In any case, I have no wish to stay where I am not wanted.”
His expression tightened. “Is that what you think? Do you truly believe you are unwanted here?”
“I think you have been very kind to me, but kindness does not require affection.”
Gabriel stared at her. Eleanor paced, unable to remain still.
“I understand the arrangement, I always have. You married me because Sophie needed protection, and you have supported me because you are a good man, but the truth is your heart already belongs somewhere else.”
Gabriel went still. “Eleanor—“
“I heard you,” she said quietly, raising a hand to stop him. “I heard enough, at least.”
He moved closer. “Enough to decide you should leave?”
“Do not make this sound like some impulsive decision.”
“It would not be the first time if it was.”
The accusation struck immediately. She turned toward him, eyes blazing.
“What does that mean?”
“Eight years ago, when things became difficult, you left. I think you are doing the same thing again.”
The pain of those words was almost unbearable because she had carried that guilt for years. The unfairness of it burned.
“I knew you still held a grudge about that.”
“I do not, but it would be understandable if so. No, I believe you are running because the moment something becomes painful, you decide there is no other choice.”
“I am trying to spare us both by refusing to remain somewhere I am only pitied. I will not stay because you feel responsible for me nor will I remain simply because you think I need to.”
“Is that what you think this marriage is?”
“What else am I supposed to think? You love Cassandra.”
The room went quiet. Gabriel looked genuinely stunned, and he went to speak, but Eleanor could not allow it. She did not want him to argue with her, for then she would have felt too much guilt to bear. She could not be a villain, not a second time.
“Please do not deny what I heard.”
“I do not know what you heard.”
“I heard enough. I heard the way you spoke to her. I heard the way she spoke to you. I know what she means to you, and I cannot stay here pretending I do not see it.”
She turned back toward the desk. “I need to finish my letter.”
Behind her, she heard him breathe out slowly. For one terrible moment, she wished he would stop her. She wished he would say something that would make staying possible, but he remained silent, and Eleanor, believing that silence was her answer, reached for her pen again.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Eleanor remained beside the desk, one hand resting against the unfinished letter, while Gabriel stood before her with an expression she struggled to understand.
She had expected anger from him after accusing him of pitying her.
Instead, what she saw in his face was something far more painful.
“Pity,” Gabriel repeated quietly. “Do you truly believe that is why I married you?”
Eleanor could not answer. The truth was that she had believed it because she had not known what else to believe.
She had returned to Ravenscourt carrying the knowledge that she had hurt him.
She had assumed that whatever affection remained was only the memory of what they had once been, softened by time and tempered by his sense of honor.
Gabriel watched her carefully.
“I have spent eight years wondering how you could leave me without a word and believe that I would simply stop caring. I loved you, Eleanor.”
The simplicity of the confession left her unable to respond. Gabriel stepped closer, though he did not touch her.
“I loved you before you left. I waited for you. I told myself there had to be some reason for it. I believed your family had pressured you, and then that something happened that prevented you from writing. I believed that one day you would return and tell me why, but you never did.”
The pain in his voice was almost harder to bear than anger would have been. He did not turn away from her, but she could see that he wanted to.
“I thought you hated me,” Eleanor whispered. “I never forgot you. I left because I believed I had no choice.”
“You had a choice.”
“No,” she said softly. “I did not. My late husband promised my family that I would be cared for. After my father died, everything changed. My family needed security, and I was told that accepting his offer was the responsible thing to do. I was told that affection could not protect me, and that love could not provide a future. I was doing what was expected of me because there was nothing else that I could do to save my family. Everyone around me convinced me that choosing you was selfish, and that if I told you, you would only have turned me away.”
The confession was barely above a whisper. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the fire, then Gabriel shook his head.
“You never gave me the chance to choose you. I would have chosen you without your family’s approval. I would have married you without anyone telling me what was sensible or what was expected. I wanted a life with you, Eleanor.”
Her eyes burned. “Why did you never tell me?”
“Because you left before I had the chance. By the time I found out where you were, you were already married. What else was I supposed to do?”
The truth of it settled between them. For years, Eleanor had believed she was the only one who had carried the pain of their separation. She had believed Gabriel had moved forward, that whatever they had shared had faded into something distant and impossible to recover.
She had been wrong.
“I thought you loved Cassandra,” she admitted at last. “I heard you speaking with her. I heard enough to believe…”
She stopped, unable to finish. Gabriel stepped closer.
“Cassandra has been my friend for many years,” he said quietly. “She cares for William, she cares for this family, but she has never been the woman I loved.”