Hearts to Be Mended Page 5

From a dark place inside him, ruled by fear alone, a quiet voice whispered: Could it be Eleanor?

  Chapter Six − Old Friends

  As the day of their guests' arrival to their house party finally came, Eleanor was beside herself with fluttering nerves. Her stomach turned every which way, threatening to expel its contents, and her heart raced in her chest in such a painful way that she feared she would faint on the spot.

  Despite her careful planning and Diana’s encouraging words, Eleanor could not help but feel as though the day had finally come that she would have to give up her hopes for the future.

  Although her mother still did not know that Henry and his brother had taken up residence at Sanford Manor, Eleanor could tell from the way her mother watched her that she knew something was going on. Whenever they spoke, her mother’s eyes would narrow in speculation, and Eleanor felt guilty for keeping this secret from her and in fact plotting to change her mind.

  Every fibre of her being spoke out against such a heinous idea of intentionally deceiving her mother, and she feared that that alone would be reason enough for her mother to refuse Henry. After all, would her mother not see it as his negative influence on her?

  Eleanor shook her head, feeling suddenly exhausted. Had life always been this complicated? More than anything, she wished she could return to her room, curl up beneath the covers of her bed and let the world move on without her.

  When the first carriage drew up to the house, Diana came rushing over. “They’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice betraying her excitement. After all, for years, Diana had been treated as an outcast in society, which had not improved much when she had married Eleanor’s brother only a few months after her first husband’s death. However, today, only friends would be in attendance, giving Diana the rare opportunity to enjoy social life outside her immediate family.

  As they came to stand by the door beside Arthur and Lady Stanhope, Eleanor smiled, delighted to see Diana so happy. Squeezing her sister-in-law’s hand, she turned toward the carriage, feeling herself relax as William and Catherine Everett, Lord and Lady Harrington, emerged, greeting them warmly.

  Maybe this was not such a bad idea after all.

  “They look happy, do they not?” Diana whispered to Eleanor as they observed the intimate way the earl and his wife interacted. “The way he looks at her says more than a thousand words.”

  Eleanor nodded, hoping that if the earl could find his way back to his wife after losing his memory, there was still a chance for Henry and herself.

  Shortly after, more guests arrived. First, Lord Norwood and his wife Rose, and then Mr. and Mrs. Everett. While Diana was still greeting her cousin, Eleanor rushed to welcome Mrs. Everett. “Christine, it is so good to see you,” she exclaimed, delighted to see the happiness shining in the woman’s eyes. After meeting her last Christmas, she had hoped that Wesley Everett would find a way to persuade her into marriage. It had been a rocky journey, and yet, they had found happiness in the end.

  Another inspiring tale that gave Eleanor hope.

  “I was delighted to receive your invitation,” Christine beamed, her quick eyes gliding over Eleanor before the corner of her mouth quirked and she leaned closer. “And I am glad you have not yet bowed your head and chosen one of your mother’s suitable suitors,” she whispered, drawing Eleanor aside. “In fact, you look more determined than ever to marry for love. Tell me, what's your plan? Maybe I can help.”

  Staring at Christine, Eleanor shook her head, a soft smile on her face as she marvelled about the other woman’s impeccable perception. In a few quick words, she shared all that had transpired since they had last seen each other, and before long, Christine’s eyes were aglow with excitement.

  “Marvellous!” she exclaimed, squeezing Eleanor’s hands. “It has been too long since I’ve had the opportunity to…,” she wiggled her eyebrows as a mischievous gleam came to her eyes, “interfere in someone else’s life. I promise I shall do what I can to aid you.”

  Eleanor sighed with relief, “Thank you for your kindness.”

  Laughing, Christine shook her head, “Oh, it has nothing to do with kindness, dear Eleanor. I’m doing this strictly for selfish reasons.”

  Eleanor’s brows drew down in confusion. “How do you mean?”

  Christine sighed a bit theatrically before a large smile came to her face. “You see, the great pity with happiness is that there is rarely an opportunity to meddle.” She laughed, “And I do love to meddle as you might recall.”

  Delighted, Eleanor nodded. After all, it had been Christine who had aided her at Lord Hampton’s Christmas ball. Enlisting her future husband’s help, she had distracted Lady Stanhope long enough to give Henry the opportunity to lead Eleanor onto the dance floor and kiss her under the mistletoe. It had been a wonderful night…thanks to Christine.

  “I’m glad to have you by my side,” Eleanor assured her in a whisper before Lady Stanhope walked over and drew Christine into a conversation about the New Year’s Ball she was already planning for the end of the year.

  With all their guests already deep in conversation, Eleanor turned to look out the front door and spotted yet another carriage rumbling up the gravel path. It bore the crest of the Earl of Amberly, and Eleanor felt her heart rejoice. How long had to been since she had seen Griffin and Winifred?

  After their parents’ death, not yet five years ago, the siblings had retreated from the world and taken to travelling. As Griffin had already been of age, he had ascended to his father’s title, taken over guardianship of his sister, and then within a few weeks’ time, they had quit England.

  As they stepped from the carriage, Eleanor stared at the two adults before her, their rich auburn hair glowing in the sun as their chocolate brown eyes came to rest on her. For a moment, she barely recognised them, their features matured, the look in their eyes speaking of new experiences and wisdom gained. However, the moment Winifred saw her, a deep smile came to her old friend’s face, and before long, they were hugging each other fiercely.

  “It has been too long,” Winifred exclaimed, suddenly stepping back, her gaze gliding over Eleanor’s face. “You look different…somehow.”

  Eleanor nodded. “As do you.” She turned her head to look at Griffin, then frowned. “Have you always been this tall?”

  A rumbling laugh echoed from his throat as his warm eyes settled on hers, “Not at all. In fact, I’ve grown significantly since I was an infant.”

  Rolling her eyes, Winifred grinned. “I hope you remember never to take him seriously.”

  Eleanor laughed, then escorted the siblings inside and introduced them to the rest of their guests. However, before long, she found herself strolling through the gardens with Winifred and Griffin beside her as the assembly of guests had almost naturally separated into those who had already tied the knot and those who were still looking for their perfect match.

  “I was rather surprised to receive an invitation to a house party,” Winifred stated, her eyes slightly narrowed as she glanced at Eleanor. “In fact, from your last letter, I expected a wedding invitation. Or did your mother change her mind?”

  Eleanor sighed, not knowing where to begin.

  “All right, that’s my cue to leave,” Griffin interrupted, then inclined his head in farewell. “I’ll leave you two lovely ladies to discuss your…secrets in private.” He grinned as Winifred rolled her eyes, then he turned to look at Eleanor. “Remember that her opinions,” with a nod of his head, he indicated his sister, “are a bit odd at times…to say the least. Don’t take her too seriously.” And with another laugh bubbling out of his throat, he walked away.

  Eleanor smiled, realising how much she had missed the siblings. Only three years apart, they had a different relationship than Eleanor and Arthur did considering that more than a decade separated them.

  “He can be so obnoxious,” Winifred muttered, glaring after her brother.

  “But you love him.”

  “Fiercely,” Winifred stated without hesi
tation. Then she shrugged. “What can I say? Despite his wayward ways, he’s my best friend.” Drawing in a deep breath, Winifred shook her head as though to clear it. “Well, then about your wedding. Am I mistaken or did you not write to me in your last letter about your mother’s ultimatum? Did she not expect you to find a match before the end of the season?” Looking around at the gardens in full bloom, Winifred cocked her head. “Am I wrong, or is it the end of the season? Are you betrothed?”

  “I am not,” Eleanor replied, equally saddened and relieved by that fact. “Although I have found a man I wish to marry, my mother opposes the match.”

  Winifred drew in a sharp breath. “I see,” she mumbled, her sharp eyes slightly narrowed as her mind worked. “What objections does she have?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  Winifred’s eyes narrowed further.

  Eleanor sighed, “She says it is because of his low rank and reputation…or rather his brothers’ reputations; however, I cannot help but feel as though she is not being completely honest with me.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Henry Waltham. He is the youngest of Lord Caulfield’s sons.”

  “Youngest?” Winifred enquired.

  “The fifth.”

  “I see,” her friend replied. “And I assume his…or rather his brothers’ reputations are those of common rakes?”

  Eleanor nodded, remembering the rationality with which Winifred approached every issue. “You would assume right.”

  Sighing, Winifred drew Eleanor down next to her onto the stone bench by the small fountain gurgling happily in the bright afternoon sun. “Do you truly believe such a man would be a good match for you?” she asked, her eyes not judging but merely interested.

  Eleanor frowned, for a moment not knowing how to answer or what exactly her friend was asking. However, before she could attempt an explanation, Winifred continued. “I’ll be frank. Now, that my parents are dead, I am quite at a loss about how best to choose a suitable match. Preferably I would defer to Griffin in this matter. However, I cannot help but wonder if he would treat the matter with the necessary importance.”

  “You would allow your brother to choose your husband?” Eleanor asked, mouth slightly agape. Despite Winifred’s rational tendencies, she would never have expected that.

  Looking at Eleanor with a hint of incredulity in her eyes, Winifred nodded. “Naturally. After all, he knows me best and is in the perfect position to judge my character with the necessary objectivity.” She snorted, “Or he would be if he weren’t so immature.”

  “But how would he know what lived in your heart?” Eleanor asked. “Is it not difficult enough to judge your own heart’s desire for yourself? How is someone else to know?”

  “That is precisely why it is wise to allow someone who knows you well to make the choice,” Winifred insisted. “After all, what lives in your heart is not a constant. It changes with the seasons; therefore, it would be most unwise to choose a spouse based on a momentary infatuation.”

  Stunned, Eleanor shook her head. A lot had changed since she had last seen her friend. “Then you are a supporter of arranged marriages?”

  Winifred opened her mouth, then hesitated as her eyes narrowed. “If by arranged marriage you mean a union based on fortune and title, then no.” She took a deep breath, and Eleanor could see how she sought to find the right words to explain herself. “Choosing a spouse based on material gain is similarly unwise−possibly even more so−than choosing one for love.” As she said the last word, a touch of annoyance came to her voice. “I believe it would be beneficial to all if unions were formed based on the potential spouses’ character traits, their interests and expectations of life. While our heart changes with the wind, at our core we are who we are. That never changes. At least, not to a degree where it would matter.” A soft smile came to her face as she took Eleanor’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “You, my dear friend, are kind to a fault. Always do you strive to see others happy, willingly surrendering your own happiness if it meant to spare someone else pain. However, you also have a strong, rather determined and unyielding side, which allows you to make your way without suffering too much from the disregard of others. What you need to ask yourself is, does Mr. Waltham’s character match yours? Are you compatible in that regard? Or does your mother object because her objectivity allows her to see what you cannot, that he is not right for you?”

  Eleanor sighed, unwilling to allow Winifred’s words to sway her. And yet, had she not been wondering why her mother would so steadfastly refuse her consent? Why her eyes burned with determination whenever Eleanor dared approach the subject of Henry? Could it be possible that her mother was merely trying to spare her the pain of discovering that once their love would vanish that they would not in the least be compatible?

  “I strongly urge you to reconsider,” Winifred whispered, gently squeezing Eleanor’s hand, her kind eyes holding concern as well as sympathy, “or you may regret it for the rest of your life.”

  ***

  “Why?” Nick demanded, his eyes wide with incredulity as he stared at Henry. “Have you lost your mind? I thought you were trying to win Lady Eleanor’s hand, not be thrown off the premises.”

  Henry sighed, a slight headache beginning to form under his left temple. “I assure you my intentions have not changed, nor will they ever. However, since you won’t allow me to assist you in dealing with the pain you clearly suffer,” Nick swallowed, and his gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, “then I would appreciate it if you would assist me in winning the woman I love.”

  Staring at his brother, Henry waited. For two days, he had waged a battle within himself, ever since the day the Stanhope party had been invited to dine with them at Sanford Manor. That day, doubts had invaded Henry’s mind, and no matter what he did, he could not seem to shake them. Nick’s reaction upon seeing Eleanor and her brother had been too telling. He had been greatly agitated, and yet, Henry had clearly seen the torment and pain in his brother’s eyes. Had Eleanor been the one to break his heart? Had she refused him?

  Unable to believe what his observations suggested, Henry could not help but feel the need to discover the truth. Had Eleanor kept this from him? How well did he truly know her? And yet, after everything they had been through, he felt like the worst scoundrel to doubt her.

  “You’re serious?” Nick asked for the hundredth time. “You want me to accompany you to the house party? Why?” Again, he shook his head. “Be assured that my presence will not serve you. Quite the contrary.”

  Henry inhaled a deep breath, then took a step toward his brother, his gaze holding Nick’s. “As far as we know, Lady Stanhope refuses her consent due to my brothers’ reputations.” Nick almost cringed at his words, and once again, Henry wondered what had happened to change his brother so. “Since there is no way to alter the past, the only option we have is to show Lady Stanhope that now we are different men, that not all of my brothers still behave the way they used to.” Clapping a hand on Nick’s shoulder, he nodded encouragingly. “You are a good man, and I believe that if she sees that we both treat her daughter with the necessary respect, that that will change how she sees us.”

  Nick sighed, “Do you truly believe so? Or is it simply your last resort?”

  Henry shrugged, no longer certain how to answer that question. “I cannot give up without trying everything within my power. I well know that it might not change anything, but I know that I won’t be able to live with myself if I lose her and know that I did not fight hard enough. Will you help me, Brother?”

  For a long moment, Nick held his gaze, his own distant as though his mind was far away. Then he blinked, and a tormented sigh escaped his lips. “I shall do what I can,” he vowed, a touch of reverence in his tone, “for I do not wish for you to know what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your chest.”

  Henry sucked in a sharp breath at his brother’s words. It was the first time he had admitted to having had his heart broke
n. “Thank you, Brother.” Holding Nick’s gaze, he asked, “Will you tell me about her?”

  Nick swallowed. “There is nothing to say.” Then he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested on them and he was no longer strong enough to bear it.

  Seeing his brother’s misery, Henry once more felt a wave of guilt wash over him for deep down he knew that one of the reasons he wished for his brother to attend the house party was to see him and Eleanor interact. How would they behave? Would their behaviour reveal a previous attachment? Or was he insane for suspecting as he did?

  Brushing his hands over his face, Henry shook his head, praying that his suspicions were unfounded.

  If they were not, he was not certain he would survive.

  Chapter Seven − A House Party

  After breakfast, everyone headed outdoors into the gardens, the clear morning air beckoning them forward as the sun’s warm rays bathed everything in a beautiful light. Walking down the small gravel path, arm in arm with Winifred, Eleanor smiled as little Ben came running down the small slope leading down into the gardens, dragging his small wooden horse behind him on a string.

  “He is a sweet child,” Winifred observed, her eyes shining as she watched him. “Such a lovely disposition.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Yes, I’m very fond of him, and I cannot wait to have a child of my own.”

  Watching her friend carefully, Winifred stopped. “First, you need to choose the child’s father,” she observed. “Have you thought about what I told you?”

  “I have,” Eleanor said, remembering the sleepless night that had brought nothing put torment.

  “And?”

  Eleanor sighed, “I admit what you said has merit. However, I cannot discount love as easily as you do.”

  A touch of disappointment came to Winifred’s eyes as she sighed. “It was never my intention to discount it; however, I do believe that affection should only be based on compatibility. Does affection not naturally develop when two people share interests and find themselves at ease in each other’s company? Is that not the kind of affection that will last a lifetime because it has a strong foundation?”