“But it is dark, my lady.”
“I do not mind. I will be safe.”
“Then I will have the lantern outside, waiting for you when you clamber out.”
“Thank you.” Elinor paused at the window. “And thank you, as always for your confidence with this.”
Natalie gave her a soft smile. “Always, my lady.”
And then she was gone, arranging everything in tandem with Elinor clambering out of her window.
She had been doing this for long enough now that she was no longer afraid of the drop, only of being caught sneaking out. While most of the staff had retired, and were loyal to the master of the house, even while he was in the countryside, Elinor knew at least three maids answered to her stepmother.
Her landing was practically silent as she hit the grass, scooping up the lantern Natalie had left. There was a little box of matches next to it, and she struck the light inside and then pocketed the matches to put back later.
And then, Elinor left Morland House.
Chapter Two
“At last,” Elinor mumbled under her breath.
Fielding House was in the bowels of London, placed far away from the wealthy neighborhoods, and the fashionable ways of the ton. It was as though it had been shoved away to the back of the city, too unsightly, and Elinor always ached for that, because nobody knew the joy that went on in the workhouse despite the poverty.
When one did not have a lot, one made do with what one did have, and her reason for being there was what she could give those without a lot of joy to claim.
Hurrying her way to the back entrance of Fielding House, Elinor gave her usual four-rap knock to alert the housekeeper it was her.
The door swung open, and Mrs. Agnes Neal stood there to welcome her.
“Elinor,” she said warmly, holding out her arms. “What a lovely surprise. You know, I never know when you can make it to teach these children, but when you are here, it is always a pleasure. They all very much look forward to it.”
“It is the same for me,” Elinor said, embracing her tightly. Mrs. Neal had become as much a warm mother figure as she could have. “Doing this makes very dark nights brighter again, and no doubt it will lift my spirits to get me through tomorrow.”
“Yes, but I do worry about how much sleep you must lose.”
“Anything is worth it for what I get to do here.” She smiled, tugging off her cloak, and Mrs. Neal took it to hang up in the kitchen.
“Can I make you some tea? I have not long taken the pot off the stove.”
“That would be lovely, thank you. Although, you look rather tired, Mrs. Neal. I can fix my own tea.”
“Ah.” The older woman tried to wave off her worries, but Eleanor drew closer, looking at the tired circles beneath her eyes and the strands of gray she swore had not been so prominent the last time Elinor had visited. “It has been a harder day today because we are all trying to make the workhouse more efficient ahead of the new owner turning up. Don’t worry yourself?—”
“I shall,” Elinor insisted. “You go up to rest, and I will handle the children alone tonight.”
“No, I can’t?—”
“You definitely can. No doubt you will have a long day tomorrow, too, so take the rest where you can get it.”
“Oh, I can’t, knowing you are sacrificing your own sleep to be here.”
Guilt slid into Elinor’s stomach as she thought about the privilege she would have of resting the following day unless her stepmother ordered her to go somewhere.
“Please, Mrs. Neal,” she insisted. “Go and sleep.” Elinor gave her an encouraging nod, playfully making a shoo motion.
Reluctantly, the woman gave in and trudged out of the kitchen, her footsteps heavy. Elinor went about fixing her tea before heading up to the children’s room.
As always, the smell hit her, and she fought the wave of emotion that always threatened her whenever she thought too hard about the conditions of the cramped room that really should not have held as many children as it did.
