Page 110 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“No.”

“Only on Sundays?”

Nathaniel looked at Eleanor. “Control your sister.”

“I have been attempting that for twenty years.”

Lydia said, “And failing.”

Mrs. Bell struck the ground with her stick. “The pomade wins.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Miss Whitaker has not answered.”

Every face turned toward Eleanor.

She frowned. “Answered what?”

“The most foolish thing you packed.”

“I packed nothing foolish.”

Seven sisters spoke at once.

“The chair.”

“The second coffee pot.”

“Three ledgers.”

“Your good shoes.”

“The lace tablecloth.”

“Father’s brass candlesticks.”

“Twelve spoons.”

Eleanor stared at them.

Nathaniel leaned back, delighted.

“The spoons are useful.”

“Of course,” he said.

“You are enjoying this.”

“More than dancing.”

Mrs. Bell pointed at Eleanor’s bare ears. “What about the earrings?”

The laughter softened.

Eleanor still missed the feel of them on her ears..

“No,” she said. “Those were never foolish.”

Nathaniel’s expression warmed.