Page 64 of Snowbound Surrender
Eleanor had assumed she could use her dowry to pay the debts, but according to James’s solicitor, the money had already gone to cover past debts. There was nothing left. Even the town house, which James had told her he owned, had been rented and she would have to be out by the year’s end.
Although she had not committed the base indiscretions her husband had been accused of, his moral turpitude had besmirched her reputation like winter’s soot.
Eleanor kept nothing from her sister, not even when it meant revealing herself as a fool for believing James had actually cared for her. All he’d cared about was her money.
“What a sorry tale. Those were not true friends, and James was a terrible husband.” Charlotte rose and went to a small sideboard where she poured two glasses of brandy, then pressed one into Eleanor’s hand.
Eleanor had never imbibed before. Their father was a teetotaler, and she had seen James foxed enough to want to avoid the same state. “I don’t know if I should.”
“A glass is not going to corrupt you. It might steady your nerves a bit.” Charlotte took a healthy swig from her glass.
Eleanor tipped her glass up and coughed at the way the brandy burned its way down her throat. Her sister laughed, and once Eleanor could breathe again, she joined in and felt lighter. How long had it been since she’d laughed? So long she couldn’t even remember.
“Finish it. You’ll get used to the taste. I find it can provide comfort and warmth on lonely winter nights.” Charlotte drained her glass. “What did your husband’s family have to say about James’s behavior?”
“They considered me a mushroom and only accepted our marriage because of my dowry. I thought given time I could win them over, but…” Eleanor shrugged. “Anyway, once he was entombed in the family crypt, they wanted nothing to do with me. As there were no children, I don’t think they cared what happened to me.”
“What about Father? What did he have to say about the debacle?”
A debacle. That was what her marriage had been. Instead of tears this time, she stifled a bitter guffaw with another bracing sip of her spirits. “He wanted so badly for me to raise our family’s profile. My marriage was supposed to pave his way into polite society and the connections it would provide. Deep pockets and connections for his investments. After James died, Father wanted nothing to do with the scandal. Or me.”
“He has always been a bastard,” Charlotte said with a lightness belying the sentiment. “One of the many reasons I didn’t want to return home.”
“I finally had little choice but to throw myself on his mercy. I was running out of time and money.” Remembering the trepidation of that morning still had the power to make Eleanor’s stomach roil. She downed the rest of the glass and let it settle for a moment. Their father had never been a warm man. Most called him ruthless, some heartless. “He had already heard the rumors of my destitution, of course.”
“And yet he waited for you to come to him. Typical.” Charlotte snorted derisively. She had always been braver when it came to defying their father. She had married a man who had not met his approval. Instead of trying to stay in his good graces,Charlotte had eloped to Scotland and then settled in Warlock in Northumberland.
It had been a sad day for Eleanor to lose her only sibling and comrade in arms against their father. The loneliness had made her ripe for some charming man to pluck and squeeze dry. The anger she felt was not entirely directed at James. She deserved a fair amount. She had been stupid and gullible. An easy target.
Yet she had battled doubts. Doubts their father had glossed over in his push for the match. Deep down, she supposed she had wanted his approval and agreed to the marriage.
“Father told me to deal with my own mess, but Grace intervened and convinced him to settle a yearly sum upon me.”
Grace, their stepmother, was as soft and kind as their father was not. Somehow, instead of dictating her every decision, their father ceded to Grace’s wishes more often than not. While Eleanor’s settlement was not extravagant, if she lived simply, she could support herself without having to remarry.
“That was good of her.” Charlotte rose and poured herself and Eleanor another glass. “Father did the same for me after Daniel died. I assumed that meant he’d forgiven me for eloping, but perhaps I have Grace to thank.” Sounding pensive, Charlotte stared at the fire.
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Eleanor bit her lip, but didn’t prod. If Charlotte received a settlement, why was she working in trade?
“You want to know why I work as a seamstress?” Charlotte shook off her seriousness, her eyes sparkling with laughter behind her spectacles.
Eleanor let out a sighing laugh. Her sister had always been uncommonly perceptive. “I am curious.”
“I was not meant for a life of leisure, I suppose. Too much of our grandmother was passed on to me.” Their father’s mother had been a milliner. “I enjoy the creation and making womenfeel good about themselves. I want the baker’s wife to feel as confident in her dress as a London lady.”
Eleanor reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. She had missed the casual optimism that Charlotte exuded. The feeling that everything might just turn out all right came over her. Or was that warmth due to finishing her second glass of brandy?
“Father would have done well to have two sons instead of us, wouldn’t he?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes, and he never let me forget it.” There was more amusement in Charlotte’s voice than anger.
“He warned me against coming north.”
“He thinks me a poor influence on you?” Charlotte burst into laughter.
“Something like that.” Eleanor thought it admirable that Charlotte had never cowed to their father and wished she had more of her sister’s backbone. If she had heeded her own misgivings, she would have not married a bounder and ended up a destitute widow.
“Let’s look forward and not back. The solstice festival is around the corner. I hope you brought a pretty winter gown to wear,” Charlotte said.
