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“Won’t you join us for tea, Your Grace?” Lady Clay said in a charming voice. She nodded to the tea service that sat on a table between herself and Eleanor. “Your lovely wife was just telling me about the time her brother fell out of a tree trying to prove he could climb higher than one of the local boys. Frederick has always been such a show-off,” Rosalin said affectionately.
Eleanor mumbled under her breath, “And he got exactly what he deserved when he fell and broke his arm.”
Henry heard Eleanor’s words, but Lady Clay did not. Henry was intrigued by Eleanor and her thoughts on her brother. All at once, the outrage he’d felt, finding Eleanor’s cats everywhere, dissolved.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Henry said, as he sat in one of the fine Chippendale chairs his grandmother kept in this room.
“I understand you have been in London,” Lady Clay said, looking at Henry for confirmation.
He started to answer and then the cat that had been snuggling into Eleanor’s side leaped lightly to the floor. It came toward the spot where Henry was sitting and began nuzzling its head around his ankles. The cat’s long black tail swung back and forth, and Henry felt himself cringe at its proximity.
“You’ll have to excuse, His Grace,” Eleanor declared, her eyes full of mirth, “he does not share my love for animals and my cats, in particular, they bother him.”
“Shall we have the servants take them out of the room?” Rosalin asked, her voice full of concern.
“Them?” Henry questioned, his voice pitching just a notch higher than normal.
“Yes,” Eleanor replied. With a delicate hand, she gestured about the room to indicate the numerous other cats that were present. There was one with black fur and white spots that was curled over by the windowsill. A third cat, which was larger than the others and a yellowish color, sat next to the fireplace dozing peacefully. Henry had been so swept up in finding Eleanor and talking to her about the animals he had failed to notice just how many more there were. They seemed to be occupying every space in the house.
Henry looked back at Eleanor to see a satisfied smile on her face. He gritted his teeth. “The cats are fine. If they make Her Grace happy, then I am pleased to have them here.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows rose minutely, but other than that, she displayed no signs of surprise.
She’s punishing me.
Henry determined that if this was the type of torture Eleanor had in mind as repayment for his gift of the pheasants and for the way his study had been decorated, then he would just put up with it. He watched as Eleanor poured him a cup of tea and then she added a dash of milk, just the way he liked it. He took a sip from the cup and gave Eleanor a polite smile over the rim of the cup.
The two ladies both relaxed their posture a little then and fell back into the conversation they had been having before Henry arrived. He tried to pay attention as Lady Clay spoke about members of thetonand what they had been doing over the last week or so, but he couldn’t bring his mind to focus on her words. Not only did he care less than two figs what the people of thetondid, but Eleanor’s black cat had continued circling his legs and chair. The cat wove in one direction and then in a smooth motion, dipped and circled back around.
Henry glanced at Eleanor, hoping she might see his distress and call her pet back to her side, but every time she returned his gaze it was only to smile at him softly. He rather liked the pretty smile that floated across her features, and he was loathed to make it disappear, so Henry sat stoically, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, waiting for the cat to leave him be.
Henry sipped his entire cup of tea and ate three lemon tartlets to distract himself from the cat’s presence, and yet it still waltzed about underneath his feet. At last, just as Henry was putting his teacup back on the saucer after swallowing his final taste of it, the cat slid into an elegant repose, curling carefully at Henry’s feet.
It’s not going away.
The thought was panicked as now Henry felt trapped.
What am I to do?
The cat seemed rather docile, but most cats do unless they are agitated or frightened. Henry pictured a future in which he would have to tiptoe around his home, making sure not to disturb the felines, as they might at any moment become annoyed by the heavy thud of his boots and scratch him. The tale unspooling in Henry’s mind was, of course, preposterous, but that tends to happen when people are afraid. And even though Henry was a skilled sportsman and a very fine hunter, he had to admit his fear. The idea of living the rest of his life surrounded by cats left him feeling helpless and intimidated.
“Eleanor,” Henry eeked out, sure he was being incredibly rude by interrupting the ladies and their conversation, but not caring.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Eleanor replied respectfully. Her blue eyes looked at him so serenely, Henry felt his resolve wobble. She seemed at peace, and he desperately did not wish to wreck that, but it couldn’t be helped. The cat underneath him stretched languidly and then, in one fluid motion, it leaped onto his lap.
Henry cringed, “Eleanor,” he whispered, unable to keep the terror from his voice.
She chuckled and rose at once. Lovingly, she lifted the animal from his lap and then returned to her seat with the cat snuggling once more against her side. Henry stood abruptly, his feet tangling with the legs of his chair as he moved. Luckily, he was still wearing his boots, so he did not hurt himself, but his pride was injured. He feared he looked rather foolish in front of Lady Clay, as well as his wife.
“Your Grace,” Henry said, inclining his head toward Eleanor. “If we might have a word in private.”
Lady Clay stood at once. “Of course, Your Grace. I will just retire to the…”
Eleanor spoke over the top of her. “Do return to your seat, dear Rosalin. Anything His Grace has to say to me can certainly be said in your company.” Her words were cold, but her smile was radiant, and Henry felt confused by the matter.
He bit his lower lip as he tried to think of how to say that which would have been much easier if he had the opportunity to say it to Eleanor when they were alone. Feeling embarrassed, standing there, gathering his thoughts, Henry blurted what he was feeling. “I think the cats need to be sent back to Barrow Hall. There are just too many of them. I acknowledge that you wish to be surrounded by your pets, and I will accept the goats, and the birds, and the horses…”
“And the dogs,” Eleanor interjected with a teasing grin.
“And the dogs,” Henry repeated, bewildered that he had missed a pack of dogs added to the outdoor kennel.
“But…” Eleanor prompted, and Henry felt in that moment it didn’t matter what he said next. Eleanor was never going to acquiesce.
“But…” Henry echoed, “I need you to be rid of the cats. Please,” he tacked on for good measure.
“I’ll think about it,” Eleanor returned haughtily. Her smile widened and Henry knew, he felt it in his bones, that what she really meant was that she would not bend to his will.
