Her tea arrived and she drank it, and then her egg, which she ate. So no longer hungry, she sat with a blanket on her knees, getting increasingly bored.
A knock sounded at the door, responded to by Mrs. Fisher's purposeful steps. Eliza was curious who could possibly be calling, but perhaps people called here quite often during the day.
"Ah," a man said. "I have come to inquire." The voice was familiar. "I understand Mrs. Hennington has fallen ill." It was Lord Fortescue. Someone must have told him. Why would they, unless he’d called in. "How is she?"
"Mending, but she cannot receive visitors."
"It's alright, Mrs. Fisher," she found herself saying. Perhaps she shouldn't, but she wanted to thank him for his concern.
He appeared in the doorway of the parlor, and he made the space look small.
"Perhaps best not to approach," she said with a smile. "I am flattered with your concern." Maybe she shouldn't have allowed him to see her, considering she was so far below her best. "As you see, I am on the mend."
"I am glad to hear it. I called in at the warehouse and they informed me you had collapsed."
"Overdramatized, I assure you. A touch of fever, but it has passed."
He sat in the chair by the fire, which was only five feet away. If he was shocked by her modest abode, he didn't say so. "I am relieved to hear it. I was concerned you may not have had anyone to care for you."
"Oh, no I assure you, Mrs. Fisher nurses with military precision. But I thank you for your concern."
Her comment made him smile. "Good. Precision is always good in nurses." And she was touched he had worried for her. Although she wasn't entirely sure why he would. Perhaps he was a man who responded when he felt worried abandoned women might be floundering. In her time knowing him, she'd found him cool and aloof, but it was interesting to see that he came to inquire when he worried she might actually be in need. She wasn't sure how to receive such understanding. There might actually be a heart in the man who professed not to have one.
Chapter 16:
CAIUS DIDN'T GET NERVOUS, but if he were to get nervous, it would probably feel like the ill ease he felt right then, sitting in the crested Wickerley carriage outside her warehouse. Apologies were not something he was used to doing, but it was necessary in this case. Well, best to just get on with it.
"This won't take long," he said to the driver as he got out and walked to the entrance where he'd seen her emerge from some days back. He knocked and it took a while for an older man to answer the door. "I need to speak to Mrs. Hennington," he announced.
"She's not here," the man said dismissively, looking him up and down as if he were a sideshow attraction.
"When will she be?"
"I don't know. She's ill."
"Ill?" Caius said with surprise as he'd never known her to be ill. "What sort of illness?"
"They don't share such details with me."
"They?"
"Them, the two of them. Come back some other time," the man said and shut the door. Well, clearly her staff had few manners.
"Ill?" he repeated to a closed door. That hadn’t been at all what he'd expected. And who exactly was he referring to with the two of them. Irrational anger simmered again, but he shut it down. Once the anger was dealt with, there was concern. Eliza didn't have the strongest constitution. She was slight and tender. Or at least that had been his perception of her, before he’d learned there were things in her personality he’d never seen. Still, if she was ill, that could be very serious.
"Cavendish Road," he said to the driver as he returned to the carriage. It hadn't been his intention of going to her house, but it hadn't been his intention for her not to be well either.
It didn't take long to get there and he saw the right door and knocked. Again it took some moments before someone answered, and for some reason he'd expected Eliza, not a housekeeper. Couldn't be doing so badly if she had a housekeeper.
"Is Mrs. Hennington here?" he asked.
"Well, I guess you’d better come in too as she is well enough to receive visitors," the woman said tartly. "Mind you, I will only let you stay five minutes."
She indicated to the parlor and he walked in. Eliza's surprise couldn't have been more visible. She looked lost for words and he bowed sharply, before noticing there was another man sitting in a chair by the fire. The room was tiny, so it felt particularly small with three people in it.
Who was this man? Not some laborer by the look of him. A lover, his mind asked. Complete awkwardness descended, and it urged him to speak. "I sought you at your business premises, but they said you were ill. I came to inquire about your health."
"That is very kind of you," Eliza said with an uncertain smile. Granted, she probably wished to entertain two gentlemen in her parlor as much as Caius was happy to be the second gentlemen in her parlor. "I am mending."
Her voice wasn't right and she looked sickly.
"Aah," she started as if she didn't know what to say. "This is Lord Fortescue. Lord Warwick," she said making the introductions. Caius turned to the man and nodded, giving him a moment to assess the man, but he couldn't simply ask who he was and why he was there. Although technically he could.
"Her husband," he filled in.
Understanding seemed to dawn on the man's features, but it didn't make him rise and rush out of there like some bounder being caught in his activities.
"Lord Fortescue is my landlord," Eliza filled in. "In that he owns the warehouse I lease."
"It seems it is not only my instincts that cause me to rush over when I hear you were ill," the man said.
Irrationally, Caius wanted to smash his face in.
"No rush necessary. It is simply a cold. It will pass."
Her nose was congested.
Caius took the only other chair in the small room that had yellow paper on the walls and a palm tree in the corner. The furniture was completely mismatched, but it had a comfortable quality, he had to concede. Not to the standard she’d come from, or even grown up in.
More importantly, why did Eliza and this man have the kind of relationship that he called when she was sick? It required some degree of concern to visit someone who was sick. A degree of concern well beyond a landlord, but that was how she’d introduced him.
The way he sat did not suggest he was comfortable in this house. And by the look of him, he was a man who could keep his mistresses in better accommodation than this. Caius could only assume the man wanted her as his mistress. Why else would he be here?
"I'd offer tea to you gentlemen," the harridan housekeeper said from the door, “but you both have to leave in a minute."
"Thank you, Mrs. Fisher," Eliza said reassuringly.
A quiet awkwardness descended again. As for his apology, it wasn't something he could deliver in front of an audience, particularly in front of a man who Caius suspected had some intention and hope.
Chapter 17:
WITH A SIGH, ELIZA sat and stared out the window. At times, she wished for time with nothing to do, but now that she was sitting at home with nothing to do, it was exceedingly dull. The house was quiet with the children gone, and Eliza had no idea what was happening with the planning or the production delivery that was scheduled to arrive.
Her throat was hoarse, but she felt much better. Rising again, she paced around the small room, wondering if she should go for a walk and get some fresh air, but Mrs. Fisher would balk at the idea, claiming she would weaken somewhere along the way and that disaster would ensue.
Also, she could reflect on the dreadfully awkward meeting of Lord Fortescue and Caius. It seemed neither of them was particularly pleased to see the other and it had just been tense and uncomfortable. Obviously, Eliza blamed Caius, because awkward and uncomfortable seemed to be his purview. And she couldn't understand why he’d arrived at all, especially after she'd explicitly told him not to communicate directly with her.
Accusations had not flown and finding a man in her parlor would probably give his theories o
f her utter inadequacy some credence, but he hadn't uttered a word. In a way, she felt it served him right for dropping in unannounced. Maybe she’d confirmed the worst of his expectations. Most likely, he believed them to be lovers cuckolding him. But why had he not vented his disgust? It wasn't as if Caius feared another man's reaction. That was not how he thought.
A knock on the door made her pause, but she realized it was around the time the mailman came, so it probably wasn't visitors descending on her.
As she sat down again, she heard Mrs. Fisher head for the door and then hushed voices spoke and the door closed again.
"A letter, Mrs. Hennington," she said, appearing at the door with a letter in hand. With a smile, Eliza accepted it, seeing Caius' watermark on the back of the envelope. Again he wasn't communicating through solicitors as she’d requested.
Tapping the envelope on her fingers, she wondered if she wanted to open it, almost fearing it would make her angry. Being sick, she could justify avoiding anything aggravating, but she was also too curious. Would this be fresh accusations aimed at her, that she was cavorting with men perhaps?
With a groan, she opened the letter and unfolded the stiff parchment. It was his handwriting. It’d been a long time since she'd seen it, or since he'd written her a letter. There had been a time when receiving a letter from him had been the most exciting thing in the entire world. A flash of sadness washed through her for a moment, but she pushed it away to focus on what renewed unpleasantness was about to accost.
But it wasn't unpleasantness. Instead it was an apology for his behavior, which he admitted was utterly irrational. Words he used in his letter. It specifically referred to the day outside her warehouse. Not the proceeding years and the misery related to that. That was all the letter said, that he apologized for his behavior and that he couldn't account for it.
Putting it to side for a moment, she stared at it, not quite sure what it meant. Was he genuinely sorry for how he’d behaved, or was this a response to her forbidding him from communicating with her directly?
A groan escaped her as she leaned her cheeks into her hands. When she’d wished for something to do, it hadn't been to deal with Caius.
Another knock sounded at the door. It couldn't be the mailman this time and Eliza straightened as she feared Caius was following up his apology with an in-person visit. Surely not. What did he want?
A man's voice was heard at the door when Mrs. Fisher went to answer, but she didn't immediately recognize Caius' voice. Perhaps she didn't anymore.
"Lord Fortescue is here to see you," Mrs. Fisher announced.
"Please see him in," she replied and hid Caius' letter within a stack of books. She was both curious and worried about why Lord Fortescue wanted to see her again. Had seeing Caius made him less open to her continuing with the lease? Men sometimes had odd loyalties to each other, and some men felt they wouldn't wish to trespass within another man's marriage. Even if that marriage was ending.
Again she noted how he seemed to fill the room and a flush spread across her cheeks as he took her hand and kissed it. "You seem better," he said. "I brought you these." A bag of oranges was handed over to her.
"Oh, thank you. I love oranges."
"My mother has an orangery. She says they are superb for fighting colds."
"They are orbs of happiness in any case," Eliza said with a smile. Oranges were indeed a very considerable gift. "I will enjoy them immensely."
Lord Fortescue took a seat and there was a moment of awkwardness as if neither of them knew what to say, and truthfully, she didn't know the reason for this visit, but hoped it was simply to call on her. Was it so bad to hope for?
On some level, she feared men's interest in her, worried that their intentions were less than honorable. With him, however, she'd had enough dealings with to hope he didn't have the perception of her that she was willing to be a man's mistress.
How she would feel post the divorce, she wasn't sure, particularly with an unmarried man such as Lord Fortescue. A married man, she would never have any interest or intentions with. But would she be willing to carry on an acquaintance with a man who could not see himself marrying a divorcée? In all honesty, she wasn't sure she wanted to marry again, but the question of if she would swear off all men for the rest of her life remained to be answered.
In all the years she’d been separated from her husband, she refused to even entertain the idea, preferring to be loyal to her vows, even if he’d utterly rejected her. Saying that, she was about to be divorced, which released her from her vows and any obligation she held herself to. And she wasn't a young miss anymore, but a woman who’d been married—even if in reality that marriage itself had been inordinately short.
The future was for her to determine. It was a liberating and exciting feeling after all the heartache and misery. That time was coming to an end and she needed to build a new life for herself. In many ways, she had with her business, but there was also a personal life to consider. And she wondered if Lord Fortescue wished to be a part of that.
"I am glad to see you are better," he said.
"Yes, every day I seem a little stronger."
It looked as though there was something he wished to say, but he couldn't find the words for it. "I have enjoyed making your acquaintance," he started and Eliza felt her tension harden as this sounded like some kind of determination on their ongoing relationship. "And I understand you are facing some rough weather, through which I hope to be a steady friend."
Eliza considered her words. "A friendship I am grateful for, because many would not extend friendship to women in my position."
"Then they are foolish and judgmental. We shouldn’t be judged for relationships that fundamentally don't suit us."
For a while, it had seemed that her relationship with Caius suited her perfectly, but it had fallen apart completely and utterly. In that sense, it didn't suit at all, did it?
"I suppose what I wish to say is that I do not judge you for a failed marriage. I have learned that some things that appear perfect on the surface are anything but. Things are never so simple."
"No, I suppose not," she said, her opinion of him growing because he seemed capable of seeing beyond the immediate. Also because he was secure enough as a person to not waver at the face of judgment from others who didn't see beyond the immediate. Because there were people who felt she was better off dead rather than as a divorced woman. It was encouraging to see there were people who didn’t dismiss her entirely because of this thing that was to happen to her. Many were happy to assign the fault to her and to have her suffer no comeback as a result.
"I find all storms eventually pass," he said. "As will this one."
"I must admit, I look forward to that point, when everything is… sorted."
"Well, you can depend on my assistance if you should require it. During or after. It is important not to stop taking time for one's own benefit. So in that light, I would like to invite you to the theatre one evening."
"Oh," Eliza said, feeling her cheeks color. "That is very… interesting." Was that a silly term? She couldn't think of another. "I would perhaps…" Should she wait for such things for after the divorce was concluded? Yes, probably. She could imagine it being reported that she was cavorting with other men if people saw her at the theatre. "Yes, that would be very enjoyable, but I suspect more so when there isn't quite so much attention stirred."
Not only in terms of attention, but for her, there was a demarcation between being a married woman and not, and that would happen with the judge's gavel.
If he wished to take her out to the theatre after, there was no reason she shouldn't go.
"Then I will look forward to it. In the meantime, you can depend on my friendship."
Relief showed on his face, as if communicating his sentiments had been a burden weighing on him, and now it seemed they had reached an understanding. It had been a very long time since she'd had an understanding of this kind with a man—the kind of understanding that
suggested he liked her and that they should spend some time in each other's company. There was something inherently exciting about it, about the prospects contained in such an understanding.
Chapter 18:
IN SOME RESPECTS, Caius knew he had no right to be upset about finding Lord Fortescue in Eliza's house. But equally, they hadn't even started the divorce process yet and men were sniffing around her already. For all he knew, men could have been sniffing around her for years, done far worse than sniffing too. In fact, all likelihood pointed in that direction judging by how their marriage had effectively ended. His focus now would be on the complete ending of the marriage. And not to be distracted by what Eliza did with herself.
It only went to show that this was all necessary, didn't it? He'd known that for a while, and if she debased herself with men, it was for her conscience to bear. If she had any decency, she would carry out her affairs with discretion.
As for Fortescue, the man wasn't someone Caius was familiar with, and he’d forbid himself to enquire about the man. He wasn’t important. If not him, it would probably be some other man. Eliza seemed to have some irrational need to draw the attention of men. It was the only thing that could explain her behavior during their marriage.
No, this only provided more proof of her adulterous nature. If he asked around, there was probably a string of men she’d cavorted with in the time he’d been away. Granted she’d been discreet until now, or Octavia would have regaled him with the tales. Hopefully that discretion would continue, but there would be closer scrutiny of her activities during the divorce.
"The mail arrived," Jones said, placing a pile of letters on his desk.
"Right," Caius said and reached for them. The typical type of communications. Invitation to social engagements, also parties seeking to explore investment opportunities.
Then there was a letter unlike the others. Turning it over, he saw it was from Mrs. Moore. Largely he’d forgotten he’d sent queries to her and about William Castle Garrick, as with Eliza's agreement to plead guilty, the need to track the man wasn't as important. Unfortunately, Eliza’s agreement to do so had come after he'd sent the letter to the woman.
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