by Ella Edon
“What?” Davidson frowned. “When did you allow that?”
“When I realized I would be playing for nothing.” Eric smirked. “Heavenly is that desperate to keep going that he is gambling away every part of his home.”
“He’s that desperate for money?”
“He’s that desperate for a win.”
And tonight, once Eric had made sure Heavenly was plied with a lot of wine, he was going to take everything from the man. Then he would have Heavenly taken home with his pockets empty. It was like having a toy, and Eric hadn’t got his full use out of him yet.
Eric approached the table. The room, which normally had a lot of chatter and laughter, fell silent as Eric prowled through the tables. He knew that he drew the eye with his striking appearance. The man he had called Father since he was a baby had told him to make sure he stood out but could also blend into the background at a moment’s notice. His father had owned this place, and he had worn a disguise to hide who he really was in case someone complained to the authorities. Eric did the same. His wigmaker was kept incredibly busy, but it was worth it. On these nights, he wore a golden-coloured wig with a ponytail held back with a black bow. It wasn’t as good as his regular hair, but it completely changed his appearance with the blond beard Eric had found as well, even if it tickled a little.
It made his other side-business a lot easier to handle when nobody knew what he really looked like. Eric wasn’t about to give that up.
Chapter Four
Eric cleared his throat and Baron Newton looked up. His eyes widened, and he rose to his feet, giving Eric a small bow before moving away with his drink. Heavenly looked up. His cheeks were ruddy red, and his eyes were glazed. He had been hitting the alcohol a lot more lately, and from what Heavenly said, his daughter had made sure to hide all the drink. It made him easier to bend to Eric’s will if he dangled a decanter of scotch in front of him.
“Mr. Black, Sir.” Heavenly tried to get up but failed. He licked his lips. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here tonight.”
“I’m always here, Lord Heavenly.” Eric gestured at the scribbled notes on the table near the dealer’s hand. “You’re bartering with property, I see?”
“You said it was allowed.”
“I know but are you sure you want to do that.” Eric bit back the smile as he settled into the chair vacated by Newton. “Seeing as I’ve got a lot of your money now, do you want to lose your home to me as well?”
Heavenly laughed and tapped the table with his hand.
“I’m not going to lose to you this time,” he declared. “I feel lucky tonight.”
“I’m sure you do.” Eric looked around. Everyone was watching them. Good. That would make the humiliation worse. “But let’s gamble for something a little more...interesting.”
“Anything.”
That sounded far too eager. Eric was sure Heavenly would waver when he heard the wager. Still, Eric had been leaving the best until last, and Heavenly wouldn’t realize he had been used until it was too late.
Eric gestured for the dealer to shuffle the cards.
“You have a daughter, don’t you? Eleanor, I think her name is.”
“Yes.” Heavenly blinked. “How do you know about her?”
“I’m sure you’ve mentioned her before.” Eric grinned. “How about we gamble for her?”
Heavenly’s face went pale, his mouth dropping open. “What? I can’t gamble my daughter.”
“Well, how about we do it this way? You win, I give you half of the money you’ve lost to me. I win, I get your daughter. Don’t worry,” he added when there was a collective gasp around the room, “I’ve got an idea for her that you’re going to like.”
“Like what?”
Eric paused for a moment, pretending to think about it. In reality, he had thought about it a long time ago.
“A husband for her. I know you’ve been looking for her to marry. It can’t be easy when she’s too old for marriage.” He gestured for a footman to approach with the drinks. “I can help you with that. Another drink?”
“Lady Eleanor?”
Eleanor looked up. One of the nuns was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, looking concerned. Eleanor put down the sheet she had been attempting to fold and approached her.
“Sister Cecilia. What is it?”
“I’m worried.” Cecilia was fidgeting with the edge of her apron. “Clarice has gone missing.”
“You mean she’s run away again?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Eleanor groaned. Clarice Newman was the daughter of a man who had been a worker on the docks as a bookmaker. The man had done well for himself, but he had also had a gambling problem. When he and Clarice’s mother had died six months before of smallpox, his debts were revealed and practically all his money was used to wipe out the debts and pay for the funerals, leaving nothing for Clarice. She had been brought to the orphanage. At fifteen, she only had a few more years before she could go out on her own, but nobody wanted her to be homeless.
Unfortunately, Clarice had a sense of entitlement. Her parents weren’t any better than the other parents who had sadly passed, but it sounded like Clarice’s family saw themselves above everyone else. She was rude and belligerent to both the people who worked at the orphanage and the other children. The girl refused to do her chores and thought her studies were pointless. Eleanor couldn’t begin to count how many times Clarice had sneered at her for working when she should be finding a husband before she got old and grey. She was just plain mean, but the nuns had persevered.
For the most part. Eleanor had lost count of how many incidents had sent Clarice to her room because she broke the rules. It was like her parents had never given her any rules. Then Clarice would simply walk out of the orphanage and disappeared for a couple of days before coming back, no remorse that she had done anything wrong. She was giving everyone a headache.
“Did Annie tell you where Clarice has gone?” Eleanor asked.
“Just that Clarice said she was going out. She didn’t know why Clarice was going.” Cecilia sighed. “All she would say was that she was really angry about having to do her chores and getting punished for it. All she had to do was tidy up the schoolbooks.”
And that was enough to make Clarice turn her nose up at any attempts to help. Eleanor knew it was difficult to go from having two parents to nothing overnight, but there came a time when every child needed to grow up. Clarice seemed to be refusing to do that. In her mind, a young man with a title was going to come along and sweep her off her feet.
Eleanor would love to see how that worked out. With Clarice’s attitude, she wouldn’t get very far at all.
“She’ll come back.” Eleanor touched the nun’s arm. “Just don’t punish her too much.”
“We don’t punish.” Cecilia reminded her. “Only when she physically lashes out, which she does a lot.”
“I know.” Eleanor smiled. “She’ll come back. She always does. Don’t worry so much about her.”
“I try not to.” Cecilia managed a smile in return, clasping Eleanor’s hand. “I really am grateful for your help here, Lady Eleanor. You do things that no one else would care to do. Your mother would be so proud of you.”
“I…” Eleanor faltered as a moment of sadness hit her. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, Sister.”
Her mother had done the same as Eleanor before she died. She had always helped with the orphaned children and looked after them when they needed someone. It was partly the reason why Edward Heavenly hadn’t fought Eleanor about going to the same place to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do. Eleanor often thought she was at peace with her mother’s death, but then there were moments when she was mentioned without any warning and Eleanor would end up close to tears.
She missed her. A lot. Eleanor would give anything to have her mother back.
“Oh.” Sister Cecilia, blinking rapidly. “Forgive me, Lady Eleanor.
I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m not crying.” Eleanor sniffed.
“Are you sure?” Cecilia reached out and brushed her thumb across Eleanor’s cheek. “You look like you’re crying. I didn’t mean to be so flippant.”
“You weren’t.” Eleanor hadn’t realized she had tears in her eyes. She cleared her throat and wiped her wrist across her eyes. “It’s fine, Sister. Really. I should be used to any mention of Mother. It has been eight years now.”
Cecilia’s expression softened, and she squeezed Eleanor’s hand.
“Something lost is something we never completely get over. To feel a great sadness in the years after losing someone you love is completely normal.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Eleanor managed to bring out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. After rubbing them, they were stinging. “Others think I should move on and stop thinking so much about her as it makes me sad. You can’t be sad in this world,” she added with a roll of her eyes, “because it will upset everyone else and that’s not good.”
“We’re human, my lady. And we’re allowed to feel things, even if we can’t openly express them. No one is to tell you how to feel something.”
Eleanor found herself smiling. Cecilia was only a year or two older than her, but she was such a level-headed, calming influence. She was far more mature than she should be. Eleanor liked the nun. She was loving, and she didn’t shove her religious beliefs down Eleanor’s throat. Eleanor was happy to attend church and own a bible, but to be preached at for the slightest thing was going to drive her mad. Cecilia understood that life was not as smooth as the church made it out to be and humans could make mistakes. Eleanor would happily spend her days with the nun rather than with the ladies in society who talked down to her because she chose to be a spinster and not look for a husband.
There was far more in life than being a married woman. Especially if you chose the wrong man. Eleanor had been put off years ago by one man who wouldn’t take her refusal. The pursuing was frustrating, especially when others told her to stop being so silly as it was clear he loved her. Then Eleanor’s mother died, and she had more important things to worry about, such as her father spiralling in his drinking. Marriage was put on the back burner.
And Eleanor didn’t mind. Much.
“You’re a good person to be around, Sister Cecilia,” she said warmly.
“I do my best.” Then Cecilia’s smile faded a little when a loud female voice reached the laundry room. She sighed. “Although I can hear someone right now you certainly don’t want to be around.”
“Sister!”
“Well.” Cecilia spread her hands wide. “With Lady Chapman, it’s not uncharitable. It’s the truth.”
“Even so, coming from you…”
Cecilia winked. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Eleanor giggled. She couldn’t help it. And Cecilia did have a point. Lady Lorraine Chapman was often coming to the orphanage with a selection of clothes, books and toys that her children had grown out of or got bored of playing with. A lot of the toys were broken, but they were easily fixable with a couple of the nuns being skilled at mending toys. Eleanor had no idea why Lady Chapman wanted to do this as she clearly didn’t want to be in the orphanage; she kept looking at everyone like she had trodden in something bad. But her deceased husband, a prominent viscount, had been a frequent benefactor, as was his mother. So, Lady Chapman had to do the same. She wanted to be seen as doing good for the community.
Eleanor just saw a sullen, bitter woman who would happily spend her evenings sipping expensive wine and eating the best food created. The type of person in society Eleanor disliked and tried to keep away from.
Following Sister Cecilia out of the laundry room, the two women made their way to the lobby. A tall, slim woman with pale brown hair piled up and curled on her head stood with a maid a little way behind her, the maid holding onto a big, bulky parcel. There was always a presence around this tall beauty, but it just made Eleanor want to leave the room and have a wash. She had to admit that Lady Lorraine Chapman was beautiful, but her behaviour was something not to be desired.
The Countess turned and fixed Sister Cecilia with a glare as the nun entered the lobby.
“I thought this place was abandoned, Sister,” she said curtly. “I’ve been shouting for a while now.”
“We do not have the funds for someone to stand guard other than our porter Lawson,” Cecilia said coolly. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Lady Chapman?”
“I have some clothes that my children don’t fit into anymore.” Lady Chapman gestured at her maid to bring the parcel forward. “I had nowhere to take them, so you can have them.”
The maid approached Sister Cecilia and put the parcel into the nun’s arms. Eleanor wondered how many clothes Lady Chapman had donated and if they really were in good condition. Her children were five and eight and while they were growing, they went through clothes far too fast. Eleanor had a feeling that Lady Chapman spent money like it was water and then passed on things that weren’t part of fashion anymore. Not that any of the children were complaining, but it was a little excessive.
“Thank you, Lady Chapman.” Cecilia’s tone seemed patronizing. “This will be most helpful. Children are always growing up too fast.”
“Well, we don’t want them anymore.” Lady Chapman sniffed, then she looked at Eleanor, almost doing a double take. “Lady Eleanor? You’re here again?”
“Yes, I am here again.” Eleanor resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone knew Eleanor spent her days here. “I spend most days here or when I’m needed. The children need to see a familiar face.”
Lady Chapman arched an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to get married and have children, so you don’t have to be a surrogate mother to these brats?”
Eleanor shouldn’t have been shocked at that, but she was. Lady Chapman was of the same age, and she seemed to take joy in reminding Eleanor that she had married well, and Eleanor couldn’t even get herself anyone interested in her.
She could have of course, but not anyone she wanted to be interested. Eleanor was content with her position, for the most part, but it was at times like this that Eleanor wished she wasn’t a minor noblewoman. She folded her hands in front of her and fixed Lady Chapman with a cool gaze.
“My calling is to look after those who cannot do it themselves. Look after those who are mistreated and ignored because they’re not considered worthy. And with regards to my marital status, I don’t think it is any of your business. That is mine alone.”
Lady Chapman’s eyes widened. Then she scowled. “You need to learn some manners, Eleanor Heavenly. Then maybe you would have had a husband by now.”
“I know,” Eleanor said sweetly. “Just think, if I was married by now, I would be a lot like you. Good evening, Lady Chapman. I’m sure Lawson will show you out.”
It wasn’t until she was in the hallway that she heard Lady Chapman protesting about Eleanor’s words. But Eleanor kept walking, resisting the urge to laugh. She did like putting that woman on the back foot. She was increasingly irritating, and Eleanor was getting fed up with being put down. Lorraine Chapman was not a nice person.
It was a wonder she married at all with her attitude. She would love Clarice Newman.
Cecilia joined Eleanor next to the laundry room, trying to hold in a fit of giggles.
“And you were just talking to me about being charitable.” Her eyes twinkled “Ouch!”
“Like you said, she brings out the worst in people.” Eleanor took the parcel. “I’ll help you get these clothes distributed.”
Chapter Five
Eleanor had planned to be back by ten, but she lost track of time. Again. She got so engrossed in her work volunteering with the nuns and seeing all the children looking so happy whenever she was around that everything else became a distant memory. She helped get the children into bed, reading a bedtime story to several of them and help
ing with the babies. That was her favourite part, looking after the babies as they fell asleep. Eleanor loved to hold babies.
It was a shock when one of the nuns tapped Eleanor on the shoulder and reminded her of the time. Eleanor had completely forgotten. She had sent Jonathan back a while back, saying she would walk back on her own as it would still be relatively light. Now it was black outside. She had to go back alone and hope that Parsons was awake to let her in. Eleanor often had a key, but Parsons would be putting on the extra locks tonight, so her father wouldn’t be able to leave. She felt embarrassed that she couldn’t keep an eye on the time, but she couldn’t help it. Eleanor just loved children.
Her friend Marion had told her that she would make a great mother, but Eleanor was sure the time for having children of her own was long gone. She would be considered too old. But there was always adoption, and Eleanor would happily adopt any of the children in the orphanage. If they had enough money to care for a child as well as their servants and themselves, Eleanor would have taken a child home even now. Her father would have been happy to take in another child, for all his faults, he was caring and kind to children. He loved children as much as Eleanor did. If circumstances had been different, and they would have been able to have other children besides Eleanor, their house would have been filled with lots of children. Eleanor knew her father was sad about that, but he doted on Eleanor when she was a little girl. His love of children and her mother’s sweetness had rubbed off on Eleanor. She wanted to give something to those who needed that same love and attention, even if it did remind her that she would more than likely never have children herself. But that was often a brief thought Eleanor pushed aside.
