Lady Eleanor Mary Cantwell, daughter of the Marquess of Salford, is a proper young lady. With her golden complexion, raven-black hair, and manners befitting a princess, Lady Eleanor has always been deemed a belle. There is just one problem.
Lady Ele...
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Rap, rap, rap!
'Lady Eleanor, please open the door!' a voice called.
Eleanor continued to sleep - the soft plush pillows gently caressed her face while the silk duvets kept her warm and cosy. She was aware of the incessant knocking on her door but her mind was still on faraway adventures she would take, voyages she would go on as soon as she was free of society's shackles.
'Lady Eleanor, please!' the voice called again, worried. 'Your mother is beside herself with anger at your absence from the breakfast table.'
At the mention of her mother, Eleanor stirred awake. The dream had ended. However, the nightmare awaited her downstairs.
'Mary,' Eleanor called to her lady's maid, her voice still groggy from having just awoken. 'Why do you wait outside? Come in!'
'I can't, my lady,' Mary said, her voice having begun to take on a frantic note. 'I tried but the door is locked from your side.'
Eleanor sprang up into a sitting position on her bed. She never locked the door when she went to bed. Her mother forbade it. Slightly unnerved but fully awake now, she crawled out of the warm embrace of her bed and went to open the door which was, indeed, locked as Mary had said. It was odd she had done so but she didn't fully recall much of last night's ball with all the sherry and ratafia she and Gabrielle had imbibed. Wiping a palm over her face and wincing at the dull throbbing of her head, she unlocked and opened the door.
At the sight of her mistress, Mary's face flooded with relief. She pushed past Eleanor, carrying a breakfast tray in hand and set it on the small coffee table near the window that overlooked the gardens.
Eleanor, slightly puzzled, said, 'I thought I was to have breakfast at the table, Mary. Why did you bring it up to my room?'
Mary pushed Eleanor into the powder room and proceeded to make her bath. 'Lady Eleanor, I have been waiting outside your door for the past hour, calling your name and banging on the door! You only awoke now. Her ladyship was threatening to come up here herself if you did not waken in the next ten minutes.'
Eleanor suppressed a shiver. Any interaction with her mother would simply ruin the rest of the day for her. She shook out of her nightgown down and Mary pushed her into the bath unceremoniously. 'What is the time now, Mary?' Eleanor asked, revelling in the soothing calmness of the water.
Mary, who was now hurrying back into the room, stopped in her tracks and gave Eleanor an incredulous look before stating, 'It is now half past eleven, my lady! And there are callers downstairs! Important ones!'
The statement finally knocked sense into Eleanor as the full meaning of those words hit her. She was late! She was oh so dreadfully late! It did not matter whether or not there had been a ball that ran late, her mother expected her to be at the breakfast table by ten, no matter how she was feeling. And callers, to add to that! Her mother must be in a dreadful temper downstairs as she always was regarding matters concerned with her.
