“Are you sure she read my letter, John?” Eleanor made his heart twist.
“She did, love.” John stroked her hair while she sat snug upon his lap. “Gave it her meself. I’ve no doubt she did.”
“Then why has she not come to see us?” Ellie looked aggrieved. “Or at least written to tell me why? Papa grows worse, and it is not like Charles to ignore him. I know she is angry with me still, but for her to eschew even Father is most unlike her, John. I am worried something is wrong.”
“Oi, sweet,” he tried to reassure her, “the whole Abbey’s a right mess these days, what with the Duchess and Miss Mowry visitin’ Lord Wells. He’s in a foul mood, and the extra work of guests has yer sister runnin’ ragged. I shouldn’t even be here meself for all there is t’ do.”
“And who is this Miss Mowry, John? Is she her grace’s companion?”
“Companion?” John laughed. “Lord no, love! She’s his lordship’s intended.” He wrapped his arms about her more tightly. “The Duchess brought ’im a bride, see, so y’ can imagine his wrath. And the Abbey’s not fit for guests neither, barelyenough rooms for us what live there. Wells is sleepin’ with his men, if y’ can believe it. Forced t’ give his mother his own bed.”
She was not amused by his news, however; instead, Eleanor looked only more distressed.
“John.” She stared straight at him. “Tell me honestly now, does my sister have feelings for Lord Wellesley?”
She nearly knocked him flat with her question—good thing he was sitting down. “Well now,” John fumbled, “I can’t speak t’ her feelings, Ellie. I wouldn’t know what yer sister thinks of his lordship.”
She would not relent. “I do not ask whatshehas told you, John. I askyouropinion, your honest opinion as both her friend and his lordship’s, and the fact you reside in that Abbey with the two of them.” She repeated her question. “Does she harbor feelings for him?”
And there it was, that same stubborn streak she shared with her sister. John knew that if he married this woman he’d have to be honest with her, or she’d forever hate him for lying to her.
“I believe she does, Ellie, yes.”
“And he for her? Does Lord Wellesley care for her too?” she insisted.
“In his own way, I think, mayhap yes.”
“I see.” She stewed.
“Ellie . . .”
“How long have you known this, John?”
“I don’t . . . That is, I weren’t at liberty to?—”
“And how long have we been courting, John?” Her voice rose.
“Ellie . . .” he tried again.
“Don’t you Ellie me, sir.” She got up off his lap. “You tell me everything you know, right this instant, or so help me God I’ll . . . !”
She was positively glowering at him, making him feel such love and fear and pain and desire for her all at once he thought he might burst.
“Christ woman, you’ll be the death o’ me,” John finally got out.
“I’ll be the death of you all right if you don’t tell me this instant what the devil my sister and Lord Wellesley have been up to at the Abbey!”
And John knew he’d no choice anymore but to tell her the whole damn sordid truth. So he did.
Dearest Charles,
John has told me all and spared no detail. I am shocked and furious, but not at you, no, at Wellesley, that villainous, dastardly man whom I defended in my letters. Do not be angry at John. He spoke only grudgingly, loyal to that vainglorious, evil lord, and to you, whom he considers already his sister. I am so sorry, Charles. So deeply, deeply sorry! That Wellesley should have duped me into believing him a gentleman when all the while he’d forced you into ruin, and over two measly chickens! I was so horrified by all John divulged, I nearly ran outside to slaughter the birds. How can we eat their eggs, knowing their cost? It fills me with revulsion and despair and anger so intense I’ve a mind to storm the Abbey and call his lordship out.
Dear God,Charles thought. Would Eleanor truly be so rash? Her hands shook as she read on.
Sister, I beg your forgiveness. I should have believedyouover my encounters withhim. I am so aggrieved by how we’ve quarreled, how you’ve sacrificed for me and father yetagain. If mother were alive she would be beside herself and father would surely shoot him on the spot. And were I a man I’d—well, I would do the same.
Charles, come home. I cannot stand the thought of you remaining in that house with that lord, regardless of what John says. He tells me you are fond of Wellesley now, but how can that be? How could you possibly have feelings for a man who forced you to such servitude? Come home to us, come see Papa before it is too late. Live with us once John and I marry. Charles, if you do not return within the week I will come for you myself I swear it.
