by Joyce Alec
Eleanor and Charles had known each other for many years, ever since Eleanor’s family had moved to the small town. Eleanor was madly in love with him, and yet she was unsure if he shared those feelings for her. He often flirted with Eleanor, but even after all this time, he still hadn’t asked to court her. Worried that he only regarded her as a close friend or sister, Eleanor longed to tell him how she felt to see if his feelings matched her own. But, as a proper young lady, she kept her feelings to herself.
Decorum was not the only reason she felt it impossible to confess her true feelings; she was terrified of the answer he would give. How would she recover if her love was unrequited? They fell into their usual pattern of easy conversation and laughter. She enjoyed every minute of the time she spent in his company.
On the way home from church, Eleanor remained quiet. She pondered every word and action during her exchange with Charles. She tried to find some indication, a clue perhaps, that he felt as she did. It was maddening.
Eleanor had resolved to be content with his company when they could see each other and hoped that the only reason he had not pursued her in matrimony was because of his rank in society. He was the eldest son of a baronet. It was not a very prominent title, but his family was quite wealthy. She, on the other hand, was the daughter of a Vicar. She was not penniless, but she was not titled. It was the most compelling reason she could imagine for his lack of romantic interest, or so she hoped. Was it better to not know if he loved her, or was she better off knowing that he did not love her?
2
July 5, 1814
The Chatham household sat in the drawing room in silence. Important news had arrived in the afternoon post that turned their world upside down. The news had appeared in the form of a letter addressed to Edward Chatham, Eleanor’s father. Edward read the letter’s contents to his family at tea.
My Lord,
It is with the deepest regret that I inform you of the sudden passing of your brother, Jonathan Chatham, Earl of Gloucester. His death was the result of an illness, and the doctors assure me that he did not suffer in his final hours. Allow me to offer my deepest sympathies at this time.
In accordance with the laws and ordinance of inheritance, you are the successor to the title of Earl of Gloucester and are herewith the possessor of all lands and properties belonging to the holder of the title.
I urge you to come to London to meet with me at your earliest convenience as there is a considerable amount of documentation that requires your immediate attention.
Sincerely,
Cecil Stewart
Eleanor did not know how to react or quite what to say. The news of her uncle’s passing and her family’s ascendancy to the peerage was astounding. Eleanor tried to recall the last time she had seen her uncle. It had been several years ago, as her uncle and her father were not close. As she sat in the small drawing room of the rectory, she decided that it was much too taxing to consider. She sat in stunned silence, as did her sisters and her brother. Her mother had turned white as a sheet, and her father turned the letter over as though he was looking for more information.
Eleanor’s mother expressed her sympathies to her own husband, “My dear, I am so sorry to hear about your brother.”
“It is a part of life; I am thankful to God that he did not suffer,” answered Edward. He had lost his brother, yet he did not feel the loss as deeply as he might. His brother had always been distant and far too worldly.
“Father, what has happened?” asked Katherine, Eleanor’s youngest sister, who had just turned ten years old.
“Well my dear, your uncle was a very wealthy man; he died without leaving behind any sons, so I now stand to inherit his property and his title.”
“Oh, did he leave behind any daughters?” she asked suddenly concerned about her own place in the world.
“No. My brother’s wife died, and he had yet to remarry. He never had any children.”
“Father, what happens now? Do we stay here in Lansdowne or do we move to Gloucester?” Eleanor asked quietly, her thoughts on Charles.
“Eleanor, unless I am greatly mistaken, we will move to the estate at Gloucester. If you will excuse me, I have much to attend to. I will be in my study.”
Edward folded the letter and left the drawing room. Eleanor knew her father must be grieving. She wanted to give him comfort, but she felt that he needed the time alone to mourn. She looked at her sisters, brother, and mother. They all seemed to be deep in thought. Earlier in the day, her thoughts had been consumed by the summer ball and dancing with Charles; now she found herself facing the prospect that if they moved, she might never see him again.
“Mother, why is everyone so glum? Does this mean father will be rich?’ asked Katherine, who was still learning to hold her tongue.
“Yes Katherine, it does,” said her mother, too exhausted to teach a quick lesson in manners.
“How wonderful!” said Katherine.
3
July 7, 1814
Eleanor chose a beautiful pale pink dress to wear to the summer ball. It was the nicest dress that she owned. The light pink color complemented her fair complexion and blue eyes. Emma had spent an hour fixing her hair into an elaborate up-do. Emma had even accented Eleanor’s blonde tresses with pink rosebuds from the garden. Eleanor looked at her reflection in the mirror; she looked radiant.
“Emma, what would I do without you?”
“Not look nearly as beautiful, I would suspect,” Emma replied
“You are quite right. How can I thank you?”
“You can thank me by not wasting this chance,” smiled Emma.
“What chance is that?” questioned Eleanor.
“If Mother is right, and we are about to move to Gloucester, this may be the only chance you have to win the heart of Charles,” Emma said, matter-of-factly.
“Emma! I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” Eleanor felt her face turning red.
“Eleanor, I know you have been sweet on Charles since we were children. I am just trying to tell you that this may be your only chance.”
“Oh Emma, what if you are right?”
“I am, now let’s hurry; we don’t want to be late.”
Eleanor and Emma rushed downstairs and out the front door of the rectory. Eleanor’s parents were already in the carriage waiting. Eleanor was the last one in, and the driver closed the door behind her. She sat down, taking care not to wrinkle her gown. The carriage ride to Deerfield Court was not very long. Eleanor could feel her pulse racing. She knew Emma was right; this may very well be her last chance to win the heart of a man she had been desperately in love with for as long as she could remember.
They arrived at the stately home of the Baronet at Deerfield Court. Candles blazed in the windows, and footmen waited to greet them as the driver steered the carriage to the entrance. A footman held the carriage door open as Eleanor and her family stepped onto the gray stone steps. She could hear music intermingled with the sounds of laughter. She took a deep breath and walked inside.
The Baronet and his wife greeted Eleanor’s family. Eleanor’s parents remained in conversation with the host and hostess, while Eleanor and Emma made their way to the ballroom. Eleanor had never seen so many people at Deerfield Court. She was certain that every prominent person in the county was in attendance. However, no matter how many handsome men were there, she was only interested in one: Charles.
Eleanor searched the faces of the guests, looking for the man she loved. Emma directed Eleanor’s gaze to the couples on the dance floor. Charles was dancing and seemed to be having a marvelous time. Eleanor felt her heart ache as she watched him dance with an auburn-haired woman who moved gracefully. When Eleanor stared a little too long at Charles and the mystery woman, Emma gave her a quick nudge. It wasn’t acceptable to seem too eager.
When the song ended, Charles made his way over to Eleanor and Emma with his companion. Eleanor tried not to feel envious of the expensive ball gown that Charles’s dance partner wa
s wearing. It was green silk with silver gossamer trim, and it looked as though it must have cost a fortune. Eleanor looked down at her own plain pink gown and felt unattractive by comparison.
“Miss Eleanor Chatham and Miss Emma Chatham, I am glad that you were able to attend. May I introduce my delightful dancing partner, Lady Beatrice Hughes?”
Eleanor and Emma both curtsied out of habit. They were now the daughters of an Earl, but this was still unknown outside of their family. Eleanor tried to smile and greet Lady Beatrice with genuine kindness, but all she felt was envy.
“Miss Chatham, Miss Chatham. I am honored to meet both of you. Charles has told me so much about you both and about Lansdowne. I feel as though I already know you.” Lady Beatrice beamed. Her face had a beautiful glow from the physical exertion of dancing.
“Lady Beatrice, what an honor it is to make your acquaintance,” said Emma.
Eleanor noticed that Lady Beatrice used Charles’s familiar name, instead of addressing him as, Mr. Selkirk. As she took a closer look at Lady Beatrice, Eleanor noticed her flawless ivory skin and striking hazel eyes that hid behind dark lashes. She was beautiful. Another nudge from Emma warned Eleanor that she was being impolite by her silence. As she was lost in thought, Eleanor didn’t realize she was staring at the woman in front of her.
Quickly, Eleanor offered her acknowledgment of the introduction, “Lady Beatrice, what a pleasure it is to meet you.”
Charles carried the conversation with talk of the weather and spoke kind words about a recent sermon he enjoyed from Vicar Chatham. Eleanor smiled and feigned interest in the conversation as her mind raced. Lady Beatrice talked about her enthusiasm for hearing Mr. Chatham’s sermons when she moved to Lansdowne. Eleanor wondered what Lady Beatrice meant by saying she was moving to Lansdowne. Why would she be moving to Lansdowne? She had a sinking feeling and needed to get Charles alone to understand his relationship with Lady Beatrice. Eleanor hoped that Lady Beatrice was a distant cousin, or another relation, but she suspected the truth was quite different.
“Miss Chatham, I was hoping I might have the pleasure of the next dance,” said Charles.
“Thank you, Mr. Selkirk, that would be lovely,” said Eleanor.
“Shall we?” he asked as he offered his arm. She placed her hand on his arm and accompanied him to the floor. Eleanor and Charles lined up with the other couples. She looked at her dance partner, and he smiled back. He seemed to be his usual, charming self. The music began to play.
The dance was a slow one, and she suspected that this might be her one and only chance to speak to him. She tried to think of what to say or even to ask. Charles spoke first.
“Miss Chatham, you don’t seem to be your typical jovial self. Are you not enjoying the ball?”
“I am enjoying it very much.” Eleanor paused as she gathered her courage before saying, “Mr. Selkirk, I was wondering if we may speak in private?”
“Of course, Miss Chatham. I do hope that you are all right.” Charles looked over in the direction of Lady Beatrice and Emma, “It seems that Lady Beatrice is occupied in conversation with your sister, so I don’t think she will mind if I step away for a moment. Let’s go out onto the balcony.”
The dance ended, and Charles escorted Eleanor through a set of ornate glass doors and outside to the balcony. The evening was warm, and the stars glittered in a clear night sky. From the light of the ballroom shining through the windows, she could see several couples enjoying this perfect summer’s evening. Charles led her to the rail, where they would have some privacy.
“Mr. Selkirk, I have known you for many years and we have so much in common.”
“Yes, I know isn’t it delightful?”
“Yes, growing up together from the time we were children has given us many fond memories,” Eleanor was unsure of what to say next. She needed to say just the right words, and maybe he would realize that he loved her as much as she loved him.
Charles continued the conversation when Eleanor paused, “We have been close, that is why I wanted Lady Beatrice to meet you most of all. I have something important I want to tell you, but you must keep it a secret.”
Eleanor could feel her heart race. She gripped the stone rail of the balcony for support as she urged him to continue, “Mr. Selkirk, please, do tell. You know I can keep a secret.”
“It’s not official. Well, it is official, but my father has yet to make the announcement. Lady Beatrice and I are to be married this autumn. Her father is the Earl of Arrowbanks, and it’s an important connection for my family. The engagement happened fast, but it is a fortuitous match.”
“Yes, Mr. Selkirk, indeed. That is quite a fortuitous match.” Eleanor was sure the pain she felt in her chest was her heart breaking into pieces. The agony was so swift and sharp. “Do you love her?” whispered Eleanor.
“I feel that I will grow to love her.”
“Mr. Selkirk, I do believe you make a lovely pair. I wish you all the best,” said Eleanor, trying to hide her coldness.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Mr. Selkirk, I am unsure of what else you would like me to say.”
Charles looked down, unable to meet Eleanor’s eyes. He knew that she was in love with him, and he was in love with her, too. But his father had encouraged a match with Lady Beatrice, and he couldn’t say no. “Say that you will be at my wedding and that we will always be friends.”
“Mr. Selkirk, I cannot promise such a thing.”
“Please be happy for me, Eleanor,” said Charles.
“Mr. Selkirk, I do believe your fiancé would not approve of you being so familiar with me. Please address me as, Miss Chatham. Congratulations on your engagement. I do hope you are blessed with happiness. Now, if you will please excuse me, I must join my sister.” With that, Eleanor turned on her heels and headed back to the ballroom.
Keeping her composure, she walked through the ballroom to find Emma. Much to her dismay, Emma was still deep in conversation with Lady Beatrice. Emma smiled in her direction, so Eleanor knew she had been seen and had to say something.
Eleanor made her way over to the two women and said, “Lady Beatrice, it was lovely to have met you. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ball.” She turned to her sister, “Emma, I am feeling unwell. I must go outdoors to get some fresh air.”
Eleanor walked through the great hall. A footman holding a polished silver tray of punch was a welcome sight. Her throat hurt from holding back tears. Having visited Charles’s home many times, she easily found the library, which she hoped would be deserted. She needed somewhere that she could cry in solitude.
She entered the dark room, relieved that nobody was inside. No candles were lit, but a fire burned in the fireplace, which gave off a dim light. Eleanor sat on an upholstered couch and placed her cup of punch on an elaborately carved wooden table. She longed for the comfort of her own bed, but found the library to be a sanctuary for the time being. Her family enjoyed festivities such as these, and she didn’t want to make a scene by insisting that they leave. Instead, she would grieve her loss while her loved ones danced the night away, unaware of her suffering.
Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she thought about Charles marrying Lady Beatrice. He didn’t love Lady Beatrice, which he admitted in his own words. Although Lady Beatrice seemed lovely in demeanor, Eleanor knew the marriage was only about the large dowry and social connections she would bring. Eleanor sat back on the couch, her head spinning from the events of the evening. The upbeat music from the ball was at odds with her mood. The music was bright and cheerful, yet her world seemed to be ending.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open. Emma’s silhouette graced the door. When Emma saw the state her sister was in, she ran to her.
“Eleanor, do we need to call a doctor? What happened? I shall run and fetch, Papa. We must get you out of here. Imagine if anybody saw you in this state.”
“Emma, he’s betrothed to Lady Beatrice. I do not know how I w
ill go on,” said Eleanor as she continued to sob.
“My dearest Eleanor, I do wish this evening would have turned out differently. It was wrong of him to flirt with you and toy with your emotions. His actions are completely dishonorable.”
“He doesn’t even love her. He told me.”
“I saw it in his eyes. He doesn’t look at Lady Beatrice as he looks at you,” said Emma, trying to comfort her sister. “Stay here. We will tell our hosts you are unwell, and we will sneak you out of here as best we can. I have already told everyone that you were suffering from a terrible headache, so no one expects you to be cheerful. We will ask the butler to call for the carriage.”
“Thank you for making an excuse for my absence tonight. I’m sorry you had to tell a falsehood.”
Emma brushed the tendrils off Eleanor’s face, as she said, “A falsehood? How did I know that you didn’t have a headache?” Emma winked as Eleanor smiled.
4
September 15, 1814
Eleanor had never ridden in a carriage so luxurious. The seat was upholstered in a soft velvet, and the interior was lined in silk. She could not imagine a queen riding in anything as regal. She shared a carriage with her two younger sisters. Her parents and younger brother rode in a separate carriage, leading the procession. They had traveled from Lansdowne and were within a few miles of their new home, Hempsted Park.
It was difficult for Eleanor to imagine that her father, a man so humble and compassionate, had been raised in such opulence and wealth. He had not been back to his family’s home in more than twenty years, since his father had died. Eleanor knew that he had grown up here, but she had never seen it before today. She was not even certain that Katherine and her younger brother even knew their father was from Gloucester.
The procession of carriages wound its way down the dirt road, and at the top of a hill, gazing out the window, Eleanor saw the gray towers of Hempsted Park rising on the horizon. Katherine, being the youngest, was also the most enthusiastic with her head pressed against the glass.
