This chapter spans about Chapter 15(-ish) to 19 in the book, and takes the tail end of a scene in Nathaniel and the Orphan. I didn't want to write angst so early in the game, but there was a bit in that first chapter that prompted me to write this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Nicola and the Viscount. Meg Cabot does. I do not own Nathaniel Sheridan, either. Which is a bummer.

In Which Eleanor Holds on to a Promise

"Eleanor," the Lord Sheridan spoke; his kind, fatherly voice seemed to boom in the hallway in which they were standing in. It wasn't that big of a hallway, really—Eleanor supposed it was a fairly regular-sized one, like all other hallways in Mayfair—which is probably why it seemed so crowded. That hallway was not made for six people to congregate and tensely converse, and yet here they all were.

"I know you're very worried," Lord Sheridan was saying, "but you shall have to stay here."

No! Eleanor did not want to stay at home! Not when her father, her brother, and her fiancé were all off to save Nicola from danger. Nicola Sparks, Eleanor's best friend! Eleanor had already made a mistake of lounging around all day, thinking that all was well, and even inwardly snickering at Nathaniel's irrational worrying about Nicola's absence at luncheon, when her brother's worrying had not been irrational, because there had been a reason for him—for everyone!—be worried.

No, Eleanor did not want to stay, and she so wanted to tell her father this, but she found that her lips remained shut, and that time seemed to be going so slowly, and that her father was still speaking.

"All right?"

Eleanor realized that she had been asked a question and that it was her turn to speak. But try as she might, she could not speak. She felt cold and frozen and she could almost feel her hands shaking and she still could not tell her father what she truly felt—

"Yes, Papa."

That was her voice. That was Eleanor's voice, saying something that she didn't want to say. Although... now that she heard her own voice say it, she realized that maybe that was really what she should have said. After all, her father knew what was the best thing to do in situations like this. Not that Eleanor actually had been in a situation like this before.

She still felt frozen.

Eleanor vaguely heard Stella Ashton say something from behind her, to which Nathaniel responded with a movement of his head. What was it called again? Oh, yes, it was called a nod, wasn't it?

Nod. Why, it was such a strange word!

It was even stranger that she was thinking this.

Oh, dear. Was she in shock?

"Ellie."

Eleanor blinked at the sound of her brother's warm voice, and just like that, just with that one word, the ice that seemed to have held her for the last few moments shattered. (Was it really just a few moments? It felt like hours!) Like an elixir, the fierce determination in his hazel eyes seemed to fill her with strength—

"I'll bring her back," he said.

—and all at once Eleanor knew that everything would be all right.

"I know you will," she replied, already feeling a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

He had asked her once, "Did I ever promise you something and didn't do it?"

The answer was a definite negative. Nathaniel had never, in Eleanor's sixteen years of existence, broken a promise to her. He kept his promise that he would stay beside her whenever a thunderstorm terrified her in her childhood. He kept his promise that he would chaperone her when Sir Hugh had come to call. He even kept his promise to annoy her for one whole weekend when he first returned for a holiday from Oxford! He didn't say the words "I promise" to her this time, but Eleanor saw it in his eyes and heard it in his firm voice.

Nathaniel nodded and quickly followed their father to rescue Nicola, but not before making another promise, this time without making a sound.

I'm not done with you yet, he seemed to say, glowering at Harold Blenkenship on his way out. Nicola's cousin visibly shook.

When Winters, as ordered by the Lord Sheridan, motioned to escort Mr. Blenkenship to the guest room, the pale boy kept his head bowed, completely and deliberately avoiding Eleanor's hazel gaze, the one that she was sure that mirrored her brother's glare.

Oh, that foolish, foolish milksop!

"He's not worth it, Miss Sheridan," Stella Ashton spoke, taking hold of Eleanor's arm. "Please, shall we to the parlor?"

Eleanor let Stella drag her away without much protest, but if she was to be honest, she verily wanted to stride over to Harold Blenkenship and strangle him. Strangling someone was not at all ladylike, she surmised, but Eleanor found that she did not care about being ladylike at that very moment. Not at all!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid..." Eleanor heard herself muttering as Stella led her to the couch. To be truthful, Eleanor wasn't certain precisely whom she was pertaining to.

The Milksop, probably, for aiding his father and the Farrelly men in abducting Nicola.

Or perhaps Nicola herself, for lying to the Sheridans about her whereabouts.

Or possibly Nathaniel, for not fully employing his own brand of stubbornness and taking action the moment he started worrying.

Or...

"Oh, I'm so stupid!" Eleanor exclaimed, bursting into tears. She was thankful that Stella had placed her on the cushioned divan; Eleanor wasn't sure if her legs would support her in the midst of her breakdown otherwise.

"Nat was right!" she added when Stella attempted to calm her down with a hand upon hers. "Nat's always right! He had been right about Sir Hugh complementing my silliness, and about Sebastian Bartholomew being a wastrel; how could I have not believed him when he thought that there was something wrong this afternoon? He's my own brother, and I didn't believe him! Oh, he had been right all along!"

"Oh, Miss Sheridan," Stella spoke a few moments after Eleanor started to only sob. "But there was no way you could have known."

"But Nat had been complaining for hours!" Eleanor reasoned. "I should have realized it! Or at least I could have been more supportive of him."

"Well, you did send me a note to confirm if Miss Sparks was with me."

Fat good that note did, Eleanor thought, sniffling. Of course, that note had caused the arrival of Stella Ashton to the Sheridan house, which in turn helped Nathaniel first process the fact that Nicola was, indeed, missing—if he had found out directly from the Milksop, Eleanor was sure her brother would waste no time in beating the boy into a pulp. And, of course, Stella's presence offered some comfort to Eleanor, as well. But, oh! if only Eleanor had sent the note earlier...!

"Miss Sheridan," Stella's voice broke through Eleanor's thoughts. "It won't do at all to think of if only's and what if's."

She was right. Oh, she was right, wasn't she?

"I know you have faith in your brother," Stella continued. "It would be best to hold on to that faith."

Eleanor nodded, willing her sobs to settle. With a long, deep inhale of air, she closed her eyes and summoned the confidence in her brother that she had displayed in the hallway. Surely, surely everything was going to be all right.

"Thank you," she said, once she had reopened her eyes. "Thank you, Miss Ashton."

Stella smiled, heaving a sigh, herself. "You're very welcome, Miss Sheridan."

There was silence for a moment, until the door gently opened to reveal Lady Sheridan. The mistress of the house stood elegantly straight, as she always did, exuding ladylikeness and authority. But although the rest of her countenance was schooled into calmness, her eyes were undeniably filled with motherly worry.

"Eleanor," was all she said.

"Mama," Eleanor said, taking three quick steps and enveloping her mother in a hug, "it's going to be all right. Nat's on it. Nicky's going to be okay. Nathaniel is on it. Everything's going to be all right..."

Eleanor didn't know how she had expected for her mother to react, but she knew that she had not expected her to laugh.

"Oh, my dear," Lady Sheridan said, through teary eyes, "and here I thought I was the one who was going to do the comforting!"

Eleanor laughed, as well, "I rather think I was talking to myself, too."

Since the Lady Sheridan wasn't in the hallway during Harold Blenkenship's surprisingly skillful narration of the recent events surrounding Nicola Sparks, and since Winters could only relay so much, Eleanor had to take on the responsibility to put her mother up to speed. After the Lady Sheridan digested the story, the rest of the afternoon was spent in silence. Eleanor lent Stella Ashton a book from the library, and Lady Sheridan went to see that the servants prepared dinner and everything else that would be needed when—not if, but when—the rescue party returned with Nicola.

Eleanor initially took to stitchwork, attempting to use the detailed patterns to distract herself. But the repetitive action of pulling in and pulling out of thread soon became so monotonous that Eleanor's mind kept drifting back to Nicola and her safety. Perhaps this what was Nathaniel was feeling during afternoon tea...

And so, following her brother's example, Eleanor let her stitchwork fall onto her lap, and just chose to gaze out the window, as if willing for the awaited company to appear.

"They lured her out of this house," Harold Blenkenship had told them, "with a note supposedly from Sir Hugh Parker, asking her to secretly come to Grafton House to help him select a surprise gift for Miss Sheridan..."

Eleanor felt tears pricking her eyes again. Just the thought that it was Nicola's desire to help Sir Hugh surprise her—her, Eleanor Sheridan—struck a new pain in her heart, as well as love for her most bosom friend. Nicola's abduction had been because of Eleanor, albeit indirectly. Oh, must Nicola be so sweet and caring and helpful?

No! Eleanor thought, stomping that feeling—the pain and self-loathing, not the love for her friend—under her feet, and focused on the empty street outside. The sound of horse hooves reached her ear, causing Eleanor to sit up straighter...

...only, those horse hooves belonged to greys that pulled a curricle that Eleanor wasn't familiar with. Also, that curricle passed by the Sheridan home without so much as pausing.

Eleanor sighed, sitting back again. It had been that way for a while now, her giving a start and hopefully staring at a horse or a carriage—anything!—that approached. And yet none of them were there to bring Nicola back. Not yet, anyway.

So, the next time Eleanor heard the sound of horse hooves on cobblestone, she decided to give her aching back a break and remained leaning on the cushions. And when she saw the outline of the horse itself and its rider, Eleanor didn't strain her eyes to see through the darkness—for it was indeed turning dark outside, and the street lamps had been lighted. She still watched, however, as the horse and its rider approached. She observed that the rider was carrying a rather bulky load...

Hold on. It quite looked like the load was actually a person.

Yes, atop the steed one rider was sitting straight, and another—a woman, Eleanor realized—was sitting sideways about his arms. Why, it was as if he were the brave knight Lochinvar, carrying his fair Ellen! Eleanor imagined that Nicola would enjoy being carried like that. She wasn't sure if Nathaniel would appreciate being compared to Lochinvar, however, given his dislike of the knight, so perhaps Eleanor would just keep this particular imagined scene from him.

Except, now that the couple riding on horseback was getting closer, Eleanor could see their features clearer. The man had brown hair and wore a blue coat, much like Nathaniel did. And the lady—Eleanor finally sat up to peer at them better—yes, the lady had ebony hair and a gown in a color quite similar to Nicola's when Eleanor had last seen her...

Oh, but Eleanor had to be hallucinating!

But then Stella Ashton, whom Eleanor had not heard approach to stand beside her, whispered, "Is that...?"

That was all Eleanor needed. In an instant she was on her feet and rushing out of the room towards the entrance. If Stella Ashton had seen it, then surely it wasn't a hallucination! With a wide smile on her face and a pounding heart in her chest, Eleanor flung the door open wide and very promptly happily shrieked.

For there, being helped by Nathaniel to get off a horse, was Eleanor's bosom friend and soul sister, the exhausted, dirtied, but smiling and positively glowing, Miss Nicola Sparks.

A word from the author: Let's show Eleanor some love, eh? I've been thinking of writing a Sir Hugh + Eleanor spin-off to Nathaniel and the Orphan, but, seeing as we know nothing about Sir Hugh's background, I'm not entirely sure if I should go ahead and do it. After all, I still have Jacob and the Heiress waiting in the pipeline, and it is feeling very lonely indeed.