“There were a few other things,” Louisa continued, ploughing on. “But… but maybe you should talk to Papa yourself. It was all for your own good, Eleanor.”
“I hear that a lot, actually,” Eleanor snapped, levering herself to her feet. “People are doing thingsfor my own goodwithout bothering to ask me about it.”
Louisa flushed. “I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Perhaps,” Eleanor looked away. “How long until I can see him?”
Before either of them could answer, there was a tap on the door and the butler stepped in.
“Madam, what should be done with Lord Henry Willenshire? He is still downstairs in the hall.”
Louisa gave a yelp. “Oh, lord, Lord Henry! I forgot about him. He came in, did he? Better fetch him some tea or something. I’m not at all in a state to go down and greet him. Jonathan…”
“I’ll go,” Eleanor heard herself say. Jonathan and Louisa exchanged a look.
“If you like,” Louisa said neutrally.
Eleanor hurried out of the room, suddenly keen to get some fresh air. Or at least, air that wasn’t circulating around Louisa’s parlour, at the very least.
There wasn’t much in Jonathan and Louisa’s hallway. It was just a narrow corridor, doors opening off it to the kitchen and servants’ quarters, the stairs snaking upstairs to the family floors and Jonathan’s office.
In the hallway, there was a coat rack, an umbrella stand, and a little velvet-cushioned chair.
Of course, Henry was not sitting on the chair. He was pacing, up and down, up and down, arms behind his back and head down.
She got halfway down the stairs before Henry noticed she was there. He paused in his pacing, looking up at her.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she responded. “How long have you been here? How long haveIbeen here? I sort of… sort of fainted.”
“Oh. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Faint, I suppose.”
He nodded. She ventured down a few more stairs.
“You’ve been here for around an hour, I think,” Henry answered.
“Anhour?” she let out a breath. “They haven’t let me see Papa.”
Henry frowned. He came to the foot of the stairs, hands still laced behind his back. He didn’t venture any further up, and she didn’t venture any further down. There were about three stairs between them. Not very far at all, but suddenly it felt like a thousand miles. Further, even.
“How is he?” Henry asked, voice hushed.
A scream was bubbling up inside Eleanor, clawing its way up her throat and fighting to get out of her mouth. If she started screaming, though, she was fairly sure she would never stop, so she clenched her back teeth and hoped for the best.
“Eleanor?” Henry prompted, voice barely louder than a whisper.
What was it about his face that enthralled her the way he did? He had an ordinary sort of face, handsome in the way the Willenshire family were, but lately it seemed to her that when he was in the room, she couldn’t see anyone else. She didn’twantto see anyone else.
“My father is dying,” Eleanor said, short and blunt, and it made it real in that moment. As if she might have undone the truth, if she’d only kept her mouth shut.
Henry sucked in a breath. She heard it hitch in his throat, and he took a step backwards.
“Oh. Oh, Eleanor, I’m so sorry. I… I can’t imagine how you feel.”
The tears were coming back. She could feel them, tracing red-hot paths down her numb cheeks. Eleanor wiped angrily at her face with the back of her hand, again and again until she realizedthat the tears were going to keep coming and just gave up, letting them fall.
