Miss Sidney smiled. “MissIsobel Fraser has never been married before and has no children.”
“Good,” Alden muttered, turning his attention towards the window. That meeting with Mrs. MacBain had been a disaster. Surely it couldn’t get any worse than that.
Elinor sat in the study, her brow furrowed as she reviewed the accounts. She was doing her best to avoid Mr. Dandridge, that familiar twinge of guilt gnawing at her. She knew he would have no interest in Mrs. MacBain. But to keep this horse farm, she had to maintain the ruse.
Her aunt stepped into the room with an unusually solemn look on her face. In her hand, she held up a letter. “Your uncle has written to you again.”
“Toss it into the fire,” Elinor remarked without looking up.
“It is not that easy this time,” her aunt said, her tone heavywith concern. “A messenger delivered the letter and has been instructed to wait for a response.”
Elinor’s mind was racing as she asked, “How did my uncle know where to find me? I do not think Lady Edith would have betrayed my confidences.”
“She wouldn’t have, but it matters not. He knows where you are and that could pose a problem for us,” her aunt said as she approached the desk.
“Where is the messenger?” Elinor asked, feeling the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders.
“In the kitchen,” her aunt replied.
Elinor sighed, extending her hand. “I will read the letter, but I suspect I already know what is in it.”
Her aunt handed over the letter, and Elinor unfolded the piece of paper with a sense of foreboding. She read the contents quickly, her face tightening as she crumpled the paper in her hand.
“What did it say?” her aunt asked.
“My uncle has threatened to send me to an asylum if I don’t marry the Duke of Mardale,” Elinor said. “He claims that my behavior could only be construed as hysteria since I am refusing to marry a duke.”
Her aunt lowered herself down onto a chair. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Elinor replied. “I refuse to marry the Duke of Mardale. He is old enough to be my grandfather.”
“I do not fault you for that, but your uncle is not one to make empty threats,” her aunt pointed out.
Elinor dropped the crumpled letter onto her desk. “I do not know why my uncle entered into a contract with the aged duke. If Uncle Matthew had only asked me what I wanted, I would have told him that I wasn’t interested in marrying him.”
“I don’t think he is interested in what you want, my dear,” her aunt remarked.
Leaning back in her seat, Elinor said, “I could always leave the horse farm.”
“And where would you go?”
Elinor grimaced slightly, the idea of leaving the horse farm tearing at her heart. “I could become a governess and disappear.”
Her aunt gave her a knowing look. “You wouldn’t be happy with that alternative,” she said. “You love this horse farm.”
“I do, with my whole heart. But being a governess would only be until I can access my dowry at six and twenty years,” Elinor acknowledged.
“We will find another solution,” her aunt said, rising. “Perhaps I will write to Lady Edith and see if she can help us.”
Elinor didn’t like that option. Not because she didn’t think Lady Edith would help her, but because she had already done so much for her. She couldn’t keep relying on the woman. She needed to find a way to solve this problem on her own.
The sound of the dinner bell echoed throughout the main level, interrupting her thoughts.
Her aunt walked over to the door. “I need to retrieve my bagpipes,” she informed Elinor. “I shall meet you for supper.”
Elinor’s brow shot up. “Your bagpipes?”
“Yes, I am planning on serenading you both over dinner,” her aunt replied. “You are welcome.”
