Before Eleanor could respond, three small tornadoes erupted from the carriage.
"Aunt Ellie! Aunt Ellie!" The twins—James and William, aged six—barrelled into her with the force of small cannonballs. Behind them, three-year-old Catherine toddled forward with arms outstretched.
"Auntie!"
Eleanor caught Catherine up in her arms, burying her face in the child's soft hair for just a moment. The simple, uncomplicated love of a child—it was exactly what she needed.
"Hello, darlings," she managed, blinking back sudden tears. "I have missed you all so much."
Liz's husband, Michael Midleton, descended from the carriage with the weary air of a man who had survived a long journey with three energetic children. "Lady Madeley. Thank you for having us. We promise not to destroy your home. Hopefully."
"You are most welcome, Lord Midleton." Eleanor set Catherine down. "Mrs Williams has prepared the nursery wing. James, William, would you like to see your rooms?"
"Are there soldiers?" James demanded. "You promised there would be soldiers!"
"An entire regiment," Eleanor assured him. "In the toy chest."
The twins whooped and raced inside, followed by Mrs Williams and a harried-looking nurse.
Liz linked her arm through Eleanor's and lowered her voice. "Now. Before Michael and Catherine follow them and before I must pretend tobe a proper guest, tell me what is wrong. And do not say 'nothing.' You look like you have been crying for days."
Eleanor opened her mouth to deflect, but Liz's expression stopped her. Her sister had always been able to see through her.
"Not here," Eleanor said quietly. "Later. After the children are settled. I will tell you everything."
"You had better." Liz's voice was fierce. "Because if someone has hurt you, Ellie, I will unleash the hounds."
"My lord husband is currently upstairs recovering admirably," Eleanor interrupted. "That is all I will say for now."
The children were finally settled in the nursery, their excited voices echoing through the halls as they explored the toy chest Eleanor had carefully prepared. Michael had retreated to the library with a relieved sigh, grateful for a moment's peace.
Which left Eleanor alone with Liz in her bedroom as the winter sun began its descent.
"Let me help you change for dinner," Liz said, already moving to Eleanor's wardrobe.
"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself—"
"Humour me." Liz pulled out a dove grey silk dinner dress and examined it critically. "This will do. Now sit and let me fix your hair. It is coming out of its pins."
Eleanor sat at her dressing table with a sigh, watching in the mirror as Liz's deft fingers began unpinning herhair.
"Where is your lady's maid?" Liz asked, running a brush through Eleanor's chestnut locks.
Eleanor's hands clenched in her lap. "I... I have not replaced her."
"Not replaced her? Ellie, you have been without a proper lady's maid for two years?"
"I go nowhere that requires elaborate dressing. My days are spent managing the estate, visiting the orphanage, attending to household matters." Eleanor ran both hands over her practical dress. "I wear simple, practical dresses. I do not even bother with stays anymore. There is little point when one is as small as I am and has no one to impress."
Liz's hands stilled in Eleanor's hair. "Why don’t you write to Rose? See if she would consider returning."
Eleanor's throat tightened, so she said nothing.
Liz resumed brushing, but her eyes in the mirror were sharp, concerned. "Ellie, what is going on? And do not tell me nothing. You look as though you have not slept properly in weeks. Is it your husband? Is Lord Madeley cruel to you?"
Eleanor closed her eyes. "Rose was not just my lady's maid."
"What do you mean?"
