***
“Eleanor, you have ink stains on your fingers,” Louisa said brusquely. “Do not touch my new linen napkins with your inky fingers.”
Eleanor flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I did wash my hands, but…”
“Leave your sister alone,” Jonathan intervened, and Eleanor shot her brother-in-law a quick, grateful smile. “She is a hard worker, and the ink stains are just a sign of that. Take no notice, Eleanor. Help yourself to a napkin.”
Doctor Jonathan Ashby was not the baron or lord that Charles Fairfax had hoped for his oldest and prettiest daughter to marry, but he was certainly respectable, certainly wealthy, and certainly loved Louisa with all his heart. He was thirty, and Louisa was twenty-eight, and their two children – Daniel and Emma – were aged seven and five respectively.
The children had, of course, been put to bed, allowing the adults to sit down to supper.
“It is a pity the children can’t join us,” Charles said suddenly. “I’m sure Eleanor could manage them while we eat. She is so good with children, is she not?”
That was such an odd thing to say that Eleanor couldn’t think of any reply right away.
“Oh, very good,” Louisa said instantly, almost like it was rehearsed. “You’ll make a wonderful mother one day, Eleanor.”
Eleanor blinked. “I suppose I would. Most people make good parents, when it comes down to it. But not for a long while, perhaps not ever. Not with my work.”
“Well, one can’t think too soon about these things. You are twenty-two, my dear. You haven’t any beaus, do you?”
“You know that I don’t, Louisa.”
Louisa pursed her lips, helping herself to a few more potatoes. She glanced across the table, meeting Charles’ eye. A look passed between them which Eleanor could not interpret and didn’t entirely like. She glanced from face to face, waiting for somebody to explain.
The explanation never came, and the conversation moved on. The evening progressed, with course after course of delicious food being served, and it didn’t take Eleanor long to forget the queer moment.
At least, she managed to forget it for a few blissful hours.
“Do you think Papa is quite well?” Eleanor whispered to her sister, when there was a space in the conversation to speak. “He looks tired. I’m sure he’s not paying attention to anything we say.”
Louisa avoided her gaze. “I’m sure he’s just busy. He works so hard, you know, and things aren’t going well at the business.”
“Well, if some of my designs take off…”
“You can’t save our family business with a few scribbles, Eleanor,” Louisa said, so sharply that Eleanor jumped. There was a taut moment, then Louisa sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unkind. But really, you must know that a few new designs aren’t going to turn the tide of our fortunes. We need money, and we need it now.”
“Papa’s meeting with a prospective partner in a few days,” Eleanor said, trying to swallow down her hurt. “Perhaps that will help.”
Louisa still wasn’t meeting her eye. “Perhaps,” she said, but it didn’t sound as if she believed it.
***
It was late in the evening by the time Charles and Eleanor climbed back into their carriage and set off for home, with Louisa and Jonathan waving goodbye from the drawing room window, a square of light and warmth in the night. Already, Eleanor was missing the warm, cheerful house.
“What do you say,” Charles said slowly and heavily, “to joining the Season this year?”
Eleanor flinched. “What?”
“The Season began a few months ago, of course, but it’s only just reaching its height now. It would be a good time to join, don’t you think?”
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not fond of Society, Papa.”
“That’s hardly the point of the Season.”
“No, the point of the Season is to marry.”
Charles picked at his cuffs. “Well, I’m sure you’ve considered marriage. You are twenty-two, my dear, and time is not kind to ladies. You should start looking for matches now.”
