They arrived at the site of the ancestral hold. Prudence’s gray eyes were wider than usual, taking in the land that had belonged to one family for centuries. Eleanor had heard Americans hadn’t the concept of such a thing, or at least, the Americans born and raised far from New England. She’d been given to understand that the Native Americans didn’t have as many permanent structures, preferring to roam about the land from season to season. Not terribly unlike British aristocrats, come to think of it. Eleanor began to suddenly wonder about Minnesota, Prudence’s birthplace. How truly wild was it when a heap of English stones dotted with sheep droppings caused her awe?
The carriage door opened, and instead of descending, Lady Rascomb entered, squishing them very tightly. “Ladies,” the viscountess announced. “Before you descend, I have a few things we must go over to appease my own mind.”
Lady Rascomb surveyed them all with her crystal blue eyes—the same color as both Ophelia and Tristan’s. “In order to succeed, we must maintain our decorum. We are in the wilds, yes. We are freer than when in London, yes. However, we still must behave within the bounds of humanity.”
Eleanor wished she could glance around to see if the other girls understood what was being said, because Eleanor surely didn’t.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you know I have not done anything to earn my reputation,” Justine protested. It was the most polite sentence Eleanor had heard out of her mouth in three hours.
It also made Eleanor wonder why Justine was labelled Bad News if she hadn’t done something to deserve it. She had the reputation of a wild girl, unpredictable and fun. The kind of girl a respectable man would never marry, and one the rake would entertain for perhaps a month.
“I know it isn’t your fault, Justine. But I say this also to Mrs. Cabot and to Miss Piper. Forgive me, ladies, I know that it is uncouth to be so direct. But we cannot have any missteps.”
“Perhaps this is one of those cultural barriers, Lady Rascomb,” Prudence said, frown lines forming between her pretty brows. “But I’m not clear on what it is you are cautioning. As an American, I need more directness, not less.”
“Of course, Mrs. Cabot. What I mean to say is, we must not fraternize with any men we meet. Not the porters, not the servants, not anyone. That is an easy warning here in the countryside, but it won’t be that way in Scotland or in Switzerland. I know widows enjoy their freedoms, but you cannot engage in that sort of behavior around unmarried ladies like my daughter.”
Prudence colored, and her mouth dropped open. “I would never—”
Lady Rascomb gave her a smooth look of appreciation. “I’m glad to hear it. Now. Let’s descend and take off these blasted corsets.”
Justine howled with laughter and the ladies climbed out of the carriage. Eleanor was last out, happy to sink into the corner and stave off her own embarrassment. The problem namely being that shewantedto fraternize with Tristan. Very much so. How was she to avoid him when he was literally tied to the rope eight feet in front of her?
Now that she left the carriage and could smell the sweetness of grass and fresh country air, she could see why Prudence was gaping. It was lovely, right out of a pastoral painting. The ruinswere majestic in their own way, an arched doorway still hanging onto relevance, the rooms of the building outlined on the floor.
A thick copse of trees threatened to grow into the archway, creating shade and cool for the horses. They couldn’t have asked for a better spring day. She got away from London often enough with her mother, yet never to a place like this. Their getaways were to seasides where her mother could take the waters. But this was proper inland English countryside. Off in the distant rolling hills she spied white dots. Sheep! Even with the appropriate livestock.
Curtains had been strung amongst the trees as the ladies’ dressing area. It was secured by clothespins, so even the wind couldn’t create a scandal.
“Here’s a hint,” Justine said, glancing sideways with a mischievous grin. “Take your stockings off and walk barefoot in the grass. It’s the next best thing to Heaven.”
Eleanor caught Prudence’s expression of disbelief. “Have you... not done that before?”
Ophelia shrugged with a pert raise of a brow. But Eleanor shook her head. “Never. Where would I do such a thing?”
And honestly, where? London? They had gardens but not lawns. And they didn’t own a country house because her father couldn’t be persuaded to leave his business. Mother only went to the seaside, where grass was at a minimum.
“You must try it, Eleanor,” Justine said.
Prudence nodded. “It is the most human thing one can do, I think. It’s been far too long for me.” The widow unbuttoned her traveling boots and shucked off her stockings, all while Eleanor stood gaping.
Laughing, Ophelia and Justine did the same.
“But—” Eleanor protested. Hadn’t they just received a lecture on propriety from Lady Rascomb?
“We won’t go near the men,” Justine said with a wrinkle of her nose. “Who needs them, anyway?”
Eleanor unbuttoned her new traveling boots, the leather still stiff. The other women were all heading out the back of the curtained area, away from the ruins and the horses. “Oh, wait, please.”
“Come on!” Ophelia laughed, gesturing broadly.
Eleanor shed her own stockings, as if she were a snake molting its skin, and skipped after them.
They emerged out of the copse of trees into a wide, sunny meadow. The grass was cold enough to feel wet, but the sun was warm on her hair and shoulders. Long strands of grass slid between her big toe and first toe, slipping almost as seamlessly as water. A breeze raced through, the grass whispering in response. It felt like magic. The four of them, standing in the sweet country air, as if they were collectively taking the hand of a loved one.
A great peace descended on Eleanor. Emotions that she’d never felt swept over her, confusing her, overwhelming her. The world was big and vast and she was so very small in comparison. And she loved it so much, and while she wasn’t surewhereshe belonged exactly, she belonged somewhere. If she could take care of the world, the world would take care of her.
Her eyes welled with tears. Ophelia saw it and took her hand. “It happens that way the first time.”
