I was planning on updating a lot sooner, but I had a horrible case of writers block. This chapter probably remained the same for a week before I finally was able to continue my stream of thought. It's going to get real interesting…. But not for a few more chapters! Reviews are much appreciated and help keep me writing!
AN: Big thanks to warmglow79, undercover-ninja, and just lovefanfiction for their reviews on the latest chapter!
Eleanor nearly tripped as her brother pushed her into the room. She was just about to say some very unladylike things until she realized where she was. Sitting on a powder blue sofa, not twenty feet from her own person, was the Duchess. Eleanor had never met the woman, but somehow she looked exactly like the picture that had been forming in Eleanor's mind for some time now.
The Duchess had blond hair that hid the telltale signs of aging. Her skin was beginning to show age, but like her hair, portrayed her as a younger woman than she really was. Her mouth was pressed into a hard line , expressing her displeasure of Eleanor's method of entrance, however unintentional. As Eleanor glanced into the Duchess eyes, however, her breathing grew still in fear. The Duchess had the most beautiful but harsh blue eyes. Seeing these eyes made Eleanor want to run and cry at the same time. All the heartbreak this woman had endured was portrayed through this window to the soul. Yes, the Duchess had no current feelings expressed through her eyes, but Eleanor saw all the past emotions that this woman had felt.
"Come here, my dear," the Duchess finally said, breaking the glaring silence that had filled the room.
Eleanor was pulled forward by the command even though her instincts were telling her to do the exact opposite. She obeyed the Duchesses movement of a hand and knelt by the arm of the woman's chair. One graceful hand came under Eleanor's chin and she felt her head being pushed up. Though the Duchesses hand was gentle, Eleanor could not help comparing her current situation to a lamb being taunted by a wolf right before it was devoured.
"You have acceptable features, but your cheekbones are too sharp. A little more food in you will hopefully smooth them out. But your freckles," the duchess eyes became even more scrutinizing, "if you stayed indoors more during the year we might be able to fade those, unfortunately they will never dissaear entirely."
"My governess said that I have freckles because a fairy came into my room when I was little and painted my face with her magic brush." Eleanor argued with earnest conviction.
The Duchess eyes grew large in alarm. "Do not ever repeat that horrible example of barbaric folklore in my household, young lady. I see that I have my work cut out for me."
"To do what?" Eleanor was more than a bit confused at this point in the conversation and was afraid that she had missed a vital piece of information.
"To turn you into a proper young lady, of course. I cannot go on ignoring your education much longer. I hope you are not beyond even my ability to train. There is so much to do if I can even hope for you to have your first season by the spring of your 18th year. And then of course you will have to be married a year later. I –"
Eleanor had been daydreaming since the Duchess had began to answer her question, but was jolted out of her peace by the horrible word.
"MARRIAGE?" Eleanor practically screamed.
"Why of course dear, and do not talk so loudly. A lady never raises her voice. Ever."
"I think you have some mistake," Eleanor hastily stood up and began to retreat to the safety of anywhere but this room.
Just as she reached the door, the Duchesses icy words hit her in the back, "You can't stay unmarried Eleanor. You will forever be a burden on your brother. How can he possibly find a wife while he is constantly worrying over his careless and ignorant sister?"
She had done it. She had found Eleanor's greatest weakness. Not only had the Duchess found it, though, she had pounded ruthlessly at the soft spot in Eleanor's heart, leaving bruises that would never heal.
"I am willing to help you, possibly even love you as I love your brother, but love comes with respect. I cannot respect you if you continue to disobey me," the Duchess explained to her emotionally weakened grandchild.
"You could love me?", Eleanor questioned, turning around to look at her grandmother with overflowing joy in her heart."
"If you put in the effort to keep the dignity and honor of this household, then your work will be repaid. You will be able to live without want and can see your brother more often then you have seen him in the past years," the Duchess replied her contract. She soon added, "and we can hold off your marriage until you are more comfortable with the idea."
If Eleanor had not been so infatuated with the idea of a new life at Dalkeith Estate, she would have seen the glint in her grandmother's eye, but the emotion betrayed in the Duchesses eye appeared and disappeared so quickly that few would have been able to detect it.
"You may retire to your room now," the suggestion sounded more like a command than anything else. "No doubt you are tired for your travels and can benefit from a night of relaxing. I'll send a servant to bring up your dinner in a few hours."
"Thank you Grandmother." Eleanor exited the room and followed a servant up stairs. Normally she would have been disappointed because her brother was not waiting for her outside the parlor, but she was still stuck in a dreamlike state. This emotion was only replaced by the growing amazement due to the ease that Eleanor had said "grandmother". She hadn't said it grudgingly, but with all the emotion that she hoped t o be able to give to another being, never dreaming that this person would be the Duchess.
Eleanor barely took in her surrounding as she drifted to her bed and fell comfortably onto the covers. Marriage, she thought with wistful contemplation. The idea didn't seem so bad as long as she would have time to get used to it. She hadn't really considered it before. Her life used to revolve around books and nature, not men or manners. Eleanor thought about other girls her age and how their lives were so different from hers. Her father's country estate was so cut off from the rest of the world that she never had any friends apart from her brother. She played with the servants children when she was little, but differences in class restricted them from being friends once they all grew up.
She stared up at the ceiling and traced the intricate designs on the ceiling with her eyes. Though she did not know how to dance, the designs mirrored what she believed to be dance steps. No doubt all girls my age know how to dance, she thought regretfully. She turned to her side and continued her comparison. And are interested in marriage. She had come full circle in her thoughts. Does it all come back to marriage for a woman? Pondering over this question for a few moments and found that is only depressed her, Eleanor continued in her daydreaming. Somehow the image of Lord Darius flitted into her mind. She took the time to study his face in her mind. "I wonder if girls my age would think he was handsome," she said out loud to herself. "He certainly wasn't bad looking." Eleanor spent the next few minutes thinking about this new acquaintance. Suddenly, the image of him smirking at her curiosity flared in her mind, which in turn sparked her forgotten anger.
"If one thing is for certain, I'll never consider him." Eleanor threw one of the numerous pillows on the ground for emphasis. "I'll show him," Eleanor whispered into her pillow just before exhaustion took over her body.