Entering the dining room, she found Aunt Cecilia seated at the long, rectangular table, a stack of letters spread out in front of her. Cecilia looked up from her reading as Elinor approached, offering her a warm smile. “Good morning, Dear. I was wondering when you would join me for breakfast.”
Elinor pulled out a chair and settled into it gracefully. “I just came from the stables.”
“Ah, your daily ritual,” her aunt said with a grin. “I do worry you will catch cold and die.”
“Why must everything end in death with you?” Elinor asked, amused by her aunt’s dramatic flair.
Cecilia shrugged nonchalantly. “It is the truth, is it not?”
“I am only one and twenty years old. I daresay that the cold air is refreshing,” Elinor contended.
“That is only because you have young lungs. I am old and could die any minute now,” her aunt declared with a flourish of her hand.
As the footman placed a plate of food before Elinor, she leaned to the side, studying her aunt’s silver-haired countenance. The lines etched around Cecilia’s eyes and mouth were starting to deepen, a reminder of her advancing age. Elinor felt a pang of worry but quickly brushed it aside, not wanting to dwell on such thoughts.
Cecilia held up a letter to her. “You received a letter from Lady Edith,” she revealed. “Would you care to read it?”
“I would,” Elinor replied eagerly. It wasn’t often that she received correspondence from Lady Edith, but she always delighted in reading her letters.
Cecilia leaned forward and extended the letter. Elinor accepted the letter and unfolded the paper with anticipation. As she began to read, her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Is something the matter?” her aunt asked, concern evident in her voice.
Elinor didn’t answer immediately. She dropped the letter onto the table, stunned. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling. “Lady Edith is dying,” she said, feeling an immense sadness washing over her.
Cecilia gasped. “That is awful news.”
Tears flooded Elinor’s eyes, and she reached for a white linen napkin to wipe them away. Lady Edith was very dear to her, and the news was devastating.
Her aunt stood up and came to sit next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dear. I knowhow much Lady Edith means to you,” she said. “Did she say anything else?”
Elinor blinked back her tears and picked up the letter again. “She intends to will the horse farm to her great-nephew, Mr. Alden Dandridge, assuming he is married by the Twelfth Night.”
“What if he isn’t married by then?” Cecilia asked.
Lowering the letter, Elinor replied, “Then the ownership of the horse farm and manor will fall to me.” Even as she said the words, she still couldn’t quite believe it.
Cecilia lifted her brow. “That is rather extraordinary,” she said. “What does Lady Edith say about Mr. Dandridge?”
Elinor flipped over the paper but sighed. “She said nothing about him, other than the fact that he is traveling here to inspect the horse farm.”
“That doesn’t tell us much then,” Cecilia remarked.
“What are we to do?” Elinor asked. “If Mr. Dandridge gets married, we will be forced to leave the manor. Where will we go?”
Cecilia frowned. “We will think of something.”
Elinor placed the letter onto the table, her mind racing. “I could always reach out to Mr. Treanor and ask if I can access my dowry, considering the circumstances.”
“I doubt he will agree to it since your father wrote in the will that you had to be six and twenty years to access it, assuming you were still unwed,” Cecilia said.
“Well, we must think of something,” Elinor asserted. “I do not think I could bear going to my uncle for help. He would no doubt force me to marry that insidious man.”
Cecilia gave her a knowing look. “Lord Inglewood was your guardian for many years,” she said.
“Yes, but he had no issue with trying to marry me off at his first opportunity,” Elinor said, attempting to keep the bitterness out of her tone. “If it wasn’t for Lady Edith’sgenerosity, I might have been forced to obtain work as a governess.”
“It will work out,” Cecilia said, trying to sound reassuring.
