"There," Liz said, stepping back to survey her work. "You look beautiful. Or at least, less like a woman on the verge of collapse."
Eleanor studied her reflection. Liz had worked magic with her hair, softening the severe lines, bringing warmth to her pale face. The burgundy silk dress was simple but elegant, flattering despite her small frame.
She looked like a lady. A viscountess.
Not like someone planning to abandon her title and her marriage to work in an orphanage.
"Thank you," Eleanor said softly.
Liz bent down, wrapping her arms around Eleanor from behind, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "I love you, you stubborn, self-sacrificing fool. And I think you are making a terrible mistake. But I will support you regardless."
"When did you become so generous?" she teased.
Liz kissed the top of Eleanor's head. "When I learned from raising children that you have to make your own mistakes. Even the enormous ones that involve abandoning a husband who does not deserve you."
Eleanor managed a small smile. "He does notdeserve me."
Liz straightened, her expression turning fierce again. "But that does not mean you can’t be happy with him. Men are fools, Ellie. Every single one of them. We can only pray that we attach ourselves to the least foolish one."
Eleanor laughed because as far as the level of stupidity went, she thought her husband might place firmly in the advanced level. It felt nice to laugh and have distraction from her sorrow. Once she composed herself, Eleanor stood, smoothed her skirts, and prepared to go down to dinner with her sister's family.
To pretend, for a few hours at least, that her life was not falling apart.
That her heart was not breaking.
That leaving on Boxing Day was the right choice, even though every day made her less certain that it was.
Eleanor paused outside Aubrey's door, smoothing her dress one final time. The dinner hour was approaching, and she needed to complete his evening care before joining Liz's family downstairs.
She knocked softly and entered.
Aubrey looked up from his book—and froze.
His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open slightly, the book nearly slipping from his hands.
Eleanor felt heat creep up her neck but kept her expression carefully neutral. "Good evening, my lord. Time for your evening care."
"You..." Aubrey seemed to struggle for words. "Your hair is different."
"My sister helped me." Eleanor moved to the washstand, focusing intently on preparing the water and cloths. "The children arrived safely. They are settled in the nursery."
"I see." His voice sounded strange. Strained.
Eleanor approached the bed with her basin and supplies, still not quite meeting his eyes. The revelations about Rose sat between them, heavy and uncomfortable. She did not know how to feel about him now—anger at his courtship of her lady's maid warring with sympathy for how thoroughly he had been deceived.
So, she focused on the routine. The familiar motions of care that required no words, no complicated emotions.
She helped him sit forward, washing his face, neck, and chest with her usual efficiency. But something felt different tonight. The air seemed thicker somehow. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
"Are you alright?" Eleanor paused, her hand on his shoulder. "Are you in pain?"
"I am fine." The words came out rough. "The pain is much less, actually. I was thinking... perhaps I could try turning myself tonight. Save you the trouble."
Eleanor's eyebrows rose. "This morning you grunted in pain even with my help. I do not think attempting it alone before bed is wise. Better not to aggravate the injury."
"Yes. Of course. You are right." Aubrey seemed to be staring fixedly at the ceiling now, his jaw tight.
“However, perhaps—" She hesitated, not meeting his gaze. "Perhaps it would be best if Morrison attended to you starting midnight. You are mending well, and it seemsappropriate."
