Prologue
London, November 1818
Eight Months Ago
Inhaling deeply, Eleanor felt her mind slowly return from the depth of slumber. Her limbs were heavy as she lay under the warm blanket, the softness of her pillow gently cradling her cheek. Although her eyes had not yet opened, she knew that it was dark around her. Not a single ray of light touched her being, and she vaguely found herself wondering what was happening.
Was she still dreaming? Her languid mind marvelled before the howling wind echoed to her ears and she heard the faint, yet distinct sounds of a storm not too far off.
Step by step, her senses returned and she regained control over her body. Sighing, Eleanor brushed a hand over her face, seeking to chase away the last remnants of sleep that made her mind heavy.
Then she stopped, wide eyes staring into the darkness above her, and listened.
Someone was breathing nearby.
She was not alone.
Who had come to her room at night? Eleanor wondered as goosebumps rose on her skin and a cold chill crawled down her spine. And without announcing themselves? Was there some kind of emergency?
No, that couldn’t be it. Surely, if there was, someone would have woken her.
Taking a deep breath, Eleanor allowed her hand to slide off her face, her eyes immediately falling on the shadowed figure sitting on the side of her bed.
A gasp tore from Eleanor’s throat as adrenaline shot through her and she immediately tried to scoot away.
“Hush, Darling,” her mother’s voice whispered. “Everything’s all right. Go back to sleep.”
Blinking, Eleanor stared into the dark. “Mother?” she whispered, shaken to her core, unable to make sense of this new development.
Never had her mother come to her room. Never had her voice sounded so…
Eleanor blinked, trying to see through the dark. Squinting her eyes, she could make out her mother’s face, her head almost slumped forward as she sat with her hands folded in her lap.
As the wind pushed the clouds onward, the moon’s silvery rays momentarily touched her mother’s face, and Eleanor could see that she had been crying as the faint light seemed to set her face aglow, the path her tears had taken glistening in the dark.
Swallowing, Eleanor sat up, uncertain as to what to do.
While Eleanor had always felt closest to her late father, who had been a caring and compassionate man, an easy smile on his face and kindness in his voice, she knew very well that her mother’s as well as her brother’s cold and distant demeanour did not speak of an unkind soul. They, too, felt emotions deeply, but did not possess the ability to share them with the people around them.
As a young girl, unhindered by society’s restrictions, Eleanor had managed to coax her brother, who was almost fifteen years her senior, into showing his affection for her more openly. He had smiled at her, pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, his eyes lit up with delight. Over the years, as they had both grown older, he had come to show more restraint with regard to portraying his emotions. And yet, Eleanor did not doubt that he loved her.
However, their mother was different. Why? Eleanor did not know. While she was not unkind, she seemed cold and distant. Never had Eleanor seen her laugh, truly laugh because her heart had been touched. Neither had she ever seen her cry, not even when her husband had died.
Although her mother had never given any kind of indication, Eleanor knew from her father’s open portrayal of affection that theirs had not been a marriage of convenience. And yet, despite the love and loss her mother had to have felt, she had not shed a single tear upon his death, never revealing what lived in her heart.
Eleanor did not know why, but it had made her fearful for her mother.
Seeing her now sitting at her bedside in the middle of the night with tears streaming down her face terrified Eleanor to her core, more so than discovering an intruder in her room would have.
“Mother?” she whispered, slowly reaching out a hand. “Are you all right?”
Clearing her throat, her mother drew in a shaky breath. Then she lifted her head. “Everything is fine.” Nodding her head, she hesitantly reached out her own hand and gently grasped Eleanor’s. “Go back to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” Eleanor asked, torn between fear of what had happened and the desperate desire to see her mother show emotions…any emotions…as long as they were real…and true…and honest.
“Do not worry yourself,” her mother replied, her hand squeezing Eleanor’s, as a hard determination came to her voice. “No matter what happens, I shall protect you. You have my word.”
Staring at her mother, Eleanor found herself unable to react as Lady Stanhope rose to her feet, then gently brushed a hand over her daughter’s cheek and left without another look back.
As her hands began to tremble, Eleanor sank back into her pillows, her wide eyes staring into the distance as her mind tried to make sense of what had happened.
But what had in fact happened?
Once again, her mother had not dared to reveal anything at all, leaving everyone around her in the dark. What had brought on this emotional reaction? There had to have been a reason. Could it have had anything to do with Corinne’s departure?
After her cousin’s parents had been killed in a robbery ten years ago, Corinne had come to live with them and easily found her way into their family, for all intents and purposes a new sister. And yet, Eleanor’s mother had shown her the same cold detachment that she showed everyone else. Could Corinne’s departure truly have affected her so? Or was there another reason?
Closing her eyes, Eleanor sighed, knowing that her mother would never share with her what had truly happened that night, what had brought on the first tears she had ever shed since Eleanor could remember.
No, her mother would handle this alone as she handled everything else.
Coming February 14, 2018