1
London, August 15th, 1818
Lady Eleanor dropped onto the stool in front of her vanity table. Exhausted from entertaining dinner guests with her parents, she looked forward to climbing into the soothing comfort of her bed.
Something pushing against her leg made her lower her gaze to Milly, the miniature poodle her parents had gifted her with for her sixteenth birthday. Rising onto her hind legs, Milly shifted her paws to better press her damp nose against Eleanor’s thigh, her stubby tail wagging with eager affection.
Eleanor chuckled and scooped the pup into her lap. She raked her fingers through Milly’s fur, scratched hera few times behind one ear, and allowed her to settle comfortably in her lap.
“Are you ready, my lady?” The question was posed by Audrey, Eleanor’s lady’s maid. A short woman with dark brown hair and eyes to match, the servant was five years Eleanor’s senior and possessed a positive outlook to match her own.
Eleanor glanced at her and smiled in response to the warmth she found in Audrey’s eyes. “Yes. Please begin.”
Audrey raised the comb she’d collected earlier and drew it through Eleanor’s hair. Molly snuggled farther into the circle of her arms, nails scratching a little at Eleanor’s lap as she repositioned her legs.
Eleanor sighed and sent her bed a longing glance. The coverlet had been folded back to display the crisp white sheets that beckoned. It would be good to climb between them and let the weariness seep from her body.
Molly’s curls compressed beneath the weight of her hand as Eleanor stroked the fluffy fur. Glancing up, she caught Audrey’s gaze in the mirror, her thoughts returning to the charity visit she’d planned for tomorrow. “Maybe you’re right about the brown woolen spencer. I never wear it, so I might as well include it in the donation.”
“Are you sure?” Audrey set the comb aside and collected a glass bottle containing Warren & Rosser’s Milk of Roses lotion.
The question was a legitimate one since Eleanor hadargued against the suggestion yesterday when she and Audrey had prepared the box that would go to St. Augustine’s Church. The spencer had been a gift from her aunt three Christmases ago. It was undoubtedly lovely, but every time she’d put it on she felt it didn’t quite suit her.
“Yes,” she said, her mind made up. “There’s no sense in it taking up space in the wardrobe when it can keep someone less fortunate warm.”
Audrey dabbed a bit of lotion on Eleanor’s face and began rubbing it in with wonderfully soothing circular motions. “I’m always impressed by your kindness, my lady.”
But was she always kind? Guilt gathered in Eleanor’s stomach, becoming so heavy it felt like a block of lead. The choice she’d made for herself – for her future – had not been easy. She hated how selfish it made her feel.
Yet she managed to smile and pretend Audrey’s comment was welcome. “Thank you.”
Audrey responded with a smile of her own and proceeded to plait Eleanor’s hair. The peaceful activity calmed her mind. She allowed herself to focus on what was to come, instead of worrying over the past.
She’d had her say, and in so doing, she’d paved the way to a new adventure.
A surge of excitement filled her breast at this thought. Everything would be fine. All she needed was rest. The maid finished her ministrations and tidied up. Eleanor set Molly down and climbed into bed. Themattress sagged beneath her weight, the cool sheets inviting her to sink deeper.
“Would you like me to close the window before I go?” Audrey asked.
“No. Leave it open.” The afternoon sun pouring into the room several hours before had made it unbearably warm and stuffy. She couldn’t sleep like that.
“I’ll bid you good night then, my lady.” Audrey called for Molly to join her and the dog complied without question, knowing full well that a walk and a treat awaited.
“Good night,” Eleanor replied, “and thank you for your help.”
The maid left and Eleanor reached for her book. This was her favorite time to read, when all was silent and there was no risk of being disturbed. She openedPamelaand flipped to the spot where she’d left off the previous evening.
A gentle breeze streamed through the window, toying with the curtains. Distant laughter reached her ears. It was followed by a horse’s faint whinny. Eleanor’s eyes grew heavy. The book began sagging between her hands.
She yawned and it felt like only a moment had passed before she was startled by a loud noise. Her eyes snapped open, adjusting and observing. The light by which she’d been reading had burned itself out. Her book had slipped from her grasp. She must have fallen asleep.
Light flashed beyond the window. A resoundingboom followed. The curtains flapped with wild abandon while rain poured down from the heavens. She blew out a breath and went to close the window. It was just a storm. No need for alarm.
Barefooted, she padded across the Aubusson rug and noted that parts of it were now damp from the rain. She leaned forward through the window’s opening, her abdomen pressing into the sill, wetting her nightgown as she reached for the handle.
Her hand caught the slick wood and she pulled the window shut. A welcome silence followed, cocooning her from the elements. Pausing briefly, she watched water streak down the smooth window pane, saw lightning flash across the sky.
Intent on returning to bed, she took a step back, prepared to close the curtains, and froze when her toes connected with something unpleasant. Not just water, but a thick and squishy substance of sorts. But how could that be? Confused, she dropped her gaze, but the darkness was blinding. She’d need a candle or an oil lamp in order to see.
