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CHAPTER16
Eleanor floated on a sea of happiness throughout the rest of the evening. She returned Henry’s jacket to him when they came back to the house, but she kept the wildflower. She asked her lady’s maid to tuck it into her hairstyle for the evening meal and somehow, Eleanor felt stronger having it with her. When she entered the dining room that evening, Henry smiled at her lovingly and she returned the gesture.
The next morning, Eleanor was reluctant to leave her room. She wanted to lie in bed, and just stretch out like one of her cats, basking in the glow of the morning sun. She thought of Henry and how he could always come and seek her in her chambers, and together they could avoid their visitors, but she knew that would not do. As the lady of the house, it was her responsibility and obligation to appear at the table for meals regularly.
She dressed hastily and then descended the stairs toward the breakfast room. When Eleanor entered, she was surprised to see that her guests had begun eating without her, but she was not bothered by the fact. She rather appreciated the gesture as it meant she was free to visit the sideboard and avoid any further painful conversations about what she decided to eat and what she kept far off her plate. She selected sumptuous slices of fruit and then found her seat at the table.
“The only way to care for roses properly…” Henry’s grandmother announced to the table and Eleanor elected to tune out the conversation. She was glad they were no longer scrutinizing her actions and behaviors, but she’d heard enough about the Dowager Duchess of Lawson’s roses to last her a lifetime.
The Dowager Duchess of Lawson and her roses were both legendary. Since she had been a young aristocrat, she had taken to her gardens to encourage her roses to bloom. She did all the things necessary to keep them in perfect order. From pruning to trimming back, to adding extra water or even replanting in better spots, the lady played an active role in the cultivation of her flowers. And the time she put in paid off.
It was Eleanor’s opinion, as well as that of most of theton’s, that the Dowager Duchess of Lawson grew the loveliest roses. There were varieties, of course, ranging from white to deep, almost vermillion, red, but the one Eleanor thought the most pleasing was the bashful pink variety that grew plentifully in the gardens. Every year, thetonheld a local competition and without fail, Henry’s grandmother and her roses were awarded the top prize.
Now that she lived with the Dowager Duchess of Lawson, and knew how much that distinction meant to her, as well as how much time she spent tending to her garden, Eleanor felt the honor was greatly deserved. The roses that grew throughout the grounds were indeed beautiful and Eleanor felt lucky to be surrounded by such charming blooms. But, just as people of thetonliked to gossip about Eleanor and her peculiar behavior, they also liked to whisper about the Dowager Duchess of Lawson and her roses.
Eleanor was cutting her fruit plate into small cubes and sampling each piece, letting the juices burst in her mouth when she was distracted from her delightful chore by the sound of her mother’s irritated huff. This was not something she often did in public unless Eleanor was embarrassing her of course, so hearing it at the morning breakfast table caught Eleanor off her guard. She dropped her fork quickly thinking she was somehow doing something to offend her mother. But that was not the case.
It seemed that Eleanor’s mother was discontent with the conversation they were having. “I do not think that necessary,” Eleanor’s mother said haughtily.
The Dowager Duchess of Lawson, who was sitting directly across the table from her looked stunned. Her eyes were wide, and her fork was poised in midair, as she had been preparing to take a bite. Slowly, she lowered her fork back to her plate. “Am I to understand that you do not wish to see my award-winning rose gardens?”
The Dowager Countess of Barrow, Eleanor’s mother, sniffed daintily, “I mean no offense, but I have my own rose gardens and so I do not have any desire to see yours.”
“But mine are renowned across the countryside,” the Dowager Duchess returned, clearly wounded by the slight.
“I suppose they are,” the Dowager Countess answered, and then she deliberately turned away from Henry’s grandmother and began speaking to Frederick, as he was seated near her right elbow.
Eleanor quirked her eyebrow at Henry down the length of the table and he shrugged his shoulders. This was not something Eleanor thought of often. She had enough struggles of her own without worrying about her mother’s sensitivities. But, the truth of the matter was, Eleanor’s mother, as the Dowager Countess, had her own lovely gardens that she cherished.
The Dowager Countess was not quite as attentive as the Dowager Duchess, but she adored her own roses just the same. She spent hours tending to them, and each year, when it was time for the annual competition, she hand-selected the blooms she wanted to showcase to the judges. Every year, within at least Eleanor’s recent memory, her mother had suffered because inevitably the Dowager Duchess would be crowned the victor.
Eleanor secretly detested the whole thing. She thought it an exercise in vanity, as the winner of the competition was really only stealing the glory from their own gardener, who was the person who most likely deserved the prize. Furthermore, the lady who won the competition was just as susceptible to the whispers of thetonas those who lost. Henry’s grandmother thought her victory insured that the people of thetonwould show her a great deal of respect, but it had quite the opposite effect. People whispered bitterly behind her back that she only won the competition because she was the Dowager Duchess and their family had held the title for generations.
When Frederick had invited himself and his mother to Lawson Manor, Eleanor never dreamed the subject of the rose competition would be broached, but she should have known better. Henry’s grandmother spent a small portion of everyday in her gardens, and of course, she would want to share that with their guests.
Henry’s grandmother fixed Eleanor’s mother with a peculiar stare. She tilted her head slightly to the side, and she narrowed her violet eyes to slits. “I have been told, on more than one occasion, that my rose gardens are superior to all others in the country. In some cases, they have been compared to the finest in the world. I cannot imagine that you wish to pass up the opportunity to take a tour through them.”
“Grandmother, perhaps Lady Barrow is feeling unwell,” Henry interjected, casting a helpless look down the table at Eleanor. “She may not wish to see the roses today because she would prefer to stay indoors.”
“Nonsense,” Henry’s grandmother snapped, her piercing eyes never leaving Eleanor’s mother’s face. “If Lady Barrow was feeling even a bit sick, she wouldn’t be sitting here at this breakfast table.”
“Yes, but…” Henry began, still trying to smooth over the situation.
“Besides, a walk in the gardens is precisely what a body needs on a fine day like today. The air is splendid, sure to put a person into good spirits.” As she said this last piece, the Dowager Duchessseemed to be challenging her counterpart.
“Thank you for interceding on my behalf, Your Grace,” Eleanor’s mother said, tipping her head toward Henry respectfully, “but I must confess, I am feeling quite myself. I simply do not wish to go for a stroll through the lady’s rose garden.” Then, under her breath, she added, “As I have a far superior one of my own at home.”
Even though her mother had whispered the last phrase, Eleanor had heard it and Frederick did as well, as his eyebrows sprang up in surprise. He turned a concerned look on Eleanor, and she couldn’t deny that her mother was behaving out of character. Normally, their mother was just as obsessed with the condemnation of thetonas the next person, and slighting the Dowager Duchess of Lawson, in her own house no less, would certainly not help build her reputation.
Eleanor said a quick prayer that the Dowager Duchess had not heard everything her mother uttered, but it was no use. Henry’s grandmother cleared her throat delicately and then whispered in a venomous way, “I beg your pardon?”
It was clear now that even though she had dug herself into this hole, Eleanor’s mother was reluctant to repeat herself. Whether it was because she realized how improper it was to insult the Dowager Duchess of Lawson in her own home or because she simply didn’t want to pursue the conversation, Eleanor could not be sure. Eleanor’s mother looked down at her plate, not eating a bite, but pursing her lips together. Then, as if startled into action, the words came tumbling out.
“I do apologize if I have offended you greatly, Your Grace. I assure you that is not my intention.” She gave the Dowager Duchess a patronizing smile across the table, but then she took a deep breath and continued, “But—I must be forthright. I do not believe you have the best collection of roses in the country. I happen to tend a very lovely garden and I know of many others throughout thetonwho also take pride in their rose buds.”
Henry’s grandmother opened her mouth to retort, but then snapped it shut again. She continued to give Eleanor’s mother a cold stare though.
“If I may speak plainly…” Lady Barrow persisted, and Eleanor fought the urge to interrupt. Nothing good ever came from someone asking for permission to speak plainly. “… it is my opinion, as well as many others in theton, that you only win the rose competition every year because the judges feel deference to you, the great Dowager Duchess of Lawson.”
