July 2, 1814

Eleanor Chatham sat on the wooden pew of the church and tried to concentrate on the sermon. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts drifted to other more tempting subjects. She knew she should feel ashamed, but she was already familiar with the sermon. This morning marked the third time she heard it all the way through, in its entirety. Her father, the Vicar of Lansdowne, had been rehearsing it all week.

In truth, her thoughts were drifting to the invitation to the Summer ball that her family had only just received yesterday afternoon in the post. Eleanor could hardly contain her excitement. Music and dancing brought joy to her heart. Secretly, she also hoped that Mr. Charles Selkirk would finally propose at the ball.

Of course, she knew that was a silly thought, but still, a girl could wish. She smiled as her thoughts turned to Charles. He was so handsome, his dark hair fell into soft waves that framed his masculine face, and his eyes were riveting. She sighed thinking about his steel gray eyes. Lost in her daydreams, she hardly noticed the jab at her side.

Her slightly younger sister, Emma, had elbowed her. Eleanor turned to her sister and raised her eyebrows to question Emma’s actions, but realized that everyone was standing for a hymn. Eleanor quickly stood up. Emma had the hymnal open to the right page and thrust the book in front of her sister. Eleanor could not believe how distracted she was today at church, but the thought of Charles and ball wouldn’t leave her mind.

The congregation sat down and Eleanor’s father gave the final prayer. At the last amen, Emma was overcome with curiosity.

“Eleanor, I have never seen you in such a state, what is the matter?” whispered Emma.

“I am feeling all right; I just was not paying attention,” Eleanor answered in a quiet tone.

“I could see that. You know we have a standard to uphold, especially you.”

“I know, Emma, I cannot account for my behavior this morning. It’s that invitation from yesterday; it has me quite distracted.”

“The Summer ball? I must admit I can think of little else either. I suppose you did have a valid reason this morning,” replied Emma.

Eleanor was often struck by how Emma always said just the right thing and always acted responsibly. She was younger than Eleanor, but she managed to act years older. Eleanor walked out of the church with Emma and was followed by her brother, her other younger sister, and her mother.

The stone church with its high ceilings was cool and dark compared to the bright sunshine and warm temperature in the church garden. Eleanor was enjoying a glass of lemonade under the shade of an ancient oak tree. She enjoyed the receptions held every Sunday in the garden. The food was always delicious, and she had at least an hour of uninterrupted time spent in the company of Charles.

“Would you like to RSVP, or should I wait for your family’s official reply?” asked Charles as he strode confidently towards Eleanor.

“You are bold; you know I will be there. How could I miss such a grand affair? I may even meet a duke or baron to marry,” She teased.

“I highly doubt that any such noble gentlemen will be attendance at our little party. You may have to content yourself with my company.”

“Oh dear, how will I manage?” she answered in mock indignation.

“Very well, I say. I am the most eligible gentleman in all of Lansdowne,” he boasted.

“I suppose you are right, Mr. Selkirk. You are the son of the highest-ranking member of our society. However, you do face a little competition.”

“Competition? Who can match my handsome features and humble charms?” he said in his loftiest tone.

“Mr. Selkirk, you are a scoundrel. As the eldest daughter of the Vicar, I should pay heed to being seen with you,” she answered as haughty as she could without laughing.

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?