To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (24 page)

The coach door opened.

“My lady?” Franklin stood by waiting impatiently, as if he had more important things to do this dreary day. Another servant in a long line who found it amusing to mistreat her, knowing she could never fire them without her husband’s approval.

Her hands trembled with pent-up anger. She’d been belittled for years. No more.

Eleanor glared coldly at the man. “If I wish to sit here and ponder life’s meaning for hours on end, I will without comment from you, is that clear?”

His jaw clenched, his gaze flashing with humiliation and ire. “Yes, my lady.”

Eleanor resisted the urge to grin, feeling oddly free for the first time in years. She would make sure James’s sister was well
taken care of; she could do that much for interfering. Then, only then, would she leave. She took in a deep, trembling breath. She would leave her husband, her life, her family. She would leave London, and she would leave James. She would start over anywhere she wished… Italy, France, Germany. Perhaps someday… she would send a note to James, and perhaps someday he would leave his life behind and join her. But for now she would think only of herself, and she had had enough.

“Franklin, I will be going inside.” She stepped out, not bothering to take his hand. She wore a demure blue day dress with long sleeves and a high collar, a black bonnet perched atop her head. She prayed the sisters would not find fault in her style or manners.

It had been easy enough to visit the nunnery. She hadn’t had to lie. She’d merely told the butler she would be heading to St. Anne’s, as she was thinking of donating money. It was the simple truth, or most of it, and she would donate, fortifying her statement. Yes, everything must be laid carefully according to plan.

“I shall be back within the hour.”

“Yes, my lady,” he mumbled.

She bit her tongue to keep from reprimanding him, knowing his opinion would not matter a week from now. No, a week from now, if all went as planned, she would be sailing to another country. She would be free. Yet as she headed toward the imposing gray building a heavy weight seemed to press upon her chest. Free… at what cost? She would most likely never see James again. She brushed aside the thought, determined to move on with her life, when she noticed a boy, a scrawny lad huddled a near the corner, taking shelter from the wind. He looked up, and their gazes clashed. She swore she saw James in his hazel eyes. James, in his scrawny body.

Her feet moved of their own accord closer to the lad. “Are you hungry?”

He gave a quick jerk of his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

She reached into her reticule, pulled out one pound, and handed it to him. His eyes grew enormous, but just as soon they narrowed in suspicion. “It’s yours, I promise. To do with what you will. Don’t show anyone, all right? Take it home directly to your mother or father.”

He didn’t wait around for a response, but tore down the street, clutching the money in his grubby first. She watched him go until he disappeared into the shadows, until her heart stopped slamming wildly, and until thoughts of James faded.

Determined, Eleanor forced her feet up the wide, shallow steps and pulled the cord. Even the bell announcing her arrival sounded melancholy, perhaps even a bit ominous.

When the door opened it was by a formidable-looking nun with pasty skin and dark eyes that glared down at her in a way that would impress even Graham. “Can I help you?”

Eleanor steeled herself, realizing that her visit wasn’t going to be easy. She gave the woman a small but respectable smile, one you would give an acquaintance born in a lower station of life than you. At times sweet and demure worked, other times arrogance. She had a feeling only arrogance would work with these women.

“I’d like to speak with the mother superior.”

“You’ll wait outside.” She started to shut the door.

Eleanor shoved her booted foot between the door and the jamb. “I’ll wait indoors.” She didn’t wait for a response but pushed herself past the woman. “And you’ll get her now if you’d like the very large donation I’m thinking of giving.”

The woman regarded her with a wary glare but reluctantly shut the door. Eleanor didn’t miss the grumbled curse under the older woman’s breath as she shuffled away. Certainly no way for a nun to speak. Eleanor grinned. She’d been bullied, beaten, humiliated… this nun was not going to frighten her away.

“Sit here.” Her hard tone left no room for argument.

She nodded toward a wooden bench outside a door. Eleanor settled primly, smoothing her skirts around her as she watched the woman disappear into a nearby room. She would wait for as long as it took. She could not leave London, leave James, without settling this matter. And she had no doubt the mother superior would see her because it was obvious the place needed donations.

With a sigh, she studied her surroundings. The same dreary gray stone that made up the outside of the abbey covered the halls. No tapestries, nor lanterns. The place was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft drip of condensation from somewhere down the corridor, and the only light was the weak glow coming from the windows.

As the clock ticked the seconds by she became more frustrated, anxious to see Miss McKinnon and continue with her plans of escape. Eleanor surged to her feet and paced the hall. Since being with James only yesterday she’d kept herself busy, knowing there was the very real possibility she would shrivel up into a ball and never move again if she thought too much upon the fact that she and James were over.

Here, now, she had nothing else to contemplate. It was last night when she’d returned home, worried her husband would be there and demand attention, that she realized she would kill herself before allowing Lord Beckett to rut her once more. James had shown her passion, had shown her that there was more to life than pain and suffering. And no matter what, she would always be grateful to him. The aching in her heart thumped painfully, spreading across her chest.
James.
She sank onto the bench and bit her lower lip, refusing to give in to the sting of tears.

She was almost grateful and relieved when she heard the sudden thump of small feet coming from down the hall. Eleanor tilted her head toward the sound and waited, curious despite herself. Moments later a nun appeared, stepping from the dark dreariness. She did not glance Eleanor’s way as she swept by; her
pale face remained cold and stoic, no flush of kindness or greeting. But the small girls following were not so disciplined.

From ages five to ten, some looked at her with wariness, others greed, probably thinking about picking her pockets, but some… some looked at her with a wistfulness that tore at her heart, a spark of hope that said they prayed every night for someone to help them, someone like her. Was she the woman who would take them from this life of pain and emptiness?

It was the last girl… a blonde little thing who caught her full attention. Her big blue eyes met Eleanor’s, and the fear in those orbs were almost Ellie’s undoing. She wanted to scoop the girl up, to bring her close to her bosom and promise that everything would be well. If the lad outside had reminded her of James, this tiny child reminded her only too well of herself. But within a fortnight she would be racing from London, hiding from her husband, and that was no life for a child.

“Samantha!” the nun snapped out, startling the little girl. “Keep up.”

The child scurried forward, and Eleanor could merely watch as she disappeared around the corner. The silence fell once more, and she was alone. So very alone. Fanny would not escape with her, for the lady’s maid had found another position in a country estate not far from her family. James would remain here, bending to Lady Lavender’s will until he perished. Ellie… Ellie would be alone. But perhaps, just maybe, she could find some peace.

The door to the office opened and yet another pale and prim woman in a long, black habit stepped into the hall. The white coif she wore over her head did not soften her hard eyes and stern mouth. If Eleanor had not experienced such hardship in her life, the woman might have actually intimidated her. As it was, she was merely amused.

“May I be of help?” Her voice was low with a menacing growl. It was obvious she didn’t appreciate it when outsiders invaded her domain, demanding entrance.

For the sake of the children, Eleanor searched the woman’s faded blue eyes for kindness but saw none. “I’d like to talk to a Miss McKinnon.”

The woman narrowed her beady eyes. “She is taking a vow of silence. She talks to no one.” The woman started to turn, intending to dismiss her, but Eleanor wasn’t so easily dismissed. It was sheer stubbornness that had kept her going this long.

“Silence?” Eleanor stepped between the woman and the door. “She’s a nun then?”

She tilted her round chin high, glaring down her crooked nose at Ellie. “Not as of yet, but perhaps in a few years, with the right training, she will be fit. If you’ll excuse me…”

But Eleanor didn’t step aside. “If you want your donation, you will allow me to speak with her.”

The woman was silent for a moment, her steely gaze searching first Eleanor’s face and then sliding down the fine silk of her gown. She could practically hear the old witch calculating her worth.

Apparently finding her sufficient, the woman nodded. “Very well. You may use my office.”

She spun around in a swirl of dreary skirts and swept over the threshold. The small room was as cold and depressing as the rest of the place. The only adornment, if one could call it so, was a rather terrifying wall hanging of a bloody and tortured Jesus gazing mournfully down at Ellie. She shivered as she settled, then she settled in the chair across from the mother superior’s small desk. How different the office was compared to Lady Lavender’s succulent room. Two women, each in charge of a rather substantial domain. They might not look the same, yet Ellie noticed a familiar grim determination in both their eyes.

It wasn’t until the mother superior demanded, “Marietta, bring Miss McKinnon,” that Ellie noticed a small mouse of a woman huddled at a table in the corner, her fingers black with ink as if she’d been taking notes.

She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her button nose. “But… but she’s—”

“I know what she is!” the woman snapped, making the small nun jump to her feet. “Now obey me.”

The nun scampered from the room. The mother superior settled behind her desk, glaring at Ellie. It was a wry amusement that lit Eleanor’s gaze when the nun offered her no tea or refreshment of any kind. A bully, she was. But Eleanor had dealt with plenty of bullies in her past.

“How much… exactly, are you willing to donate to our Lord?” she finally asked.

Eleanor had to hide her smile. “We shall see. Once I speak with Miss McKinnon and see how she fares, I will make my decision.”

“How she fares?” the woman thundered. “What exactly are you implying?”

Eleanor was saved from answering when the door opened. A young, petite pale creature with warm brown eyes walked demurely inside. Eleanor’s heart hurt just looking at her, the features so like James’s. She knew without doubt that this tired-looking creature was his sister. The urge to latch onto her hand and tear her from the nunnery overwhelmed Eleanor.

“Arabella, this woman is here to speak with you.”

The young woman’s troubled gaze found Ellie’s. “I do not know you, do I?”

“You don’t?” The mother superior glanced Eleanor’s way, damnation and accusation in her eyes.

Ellie shrugged. “I never claimed to have known her.” She turned her attention to James’s sister. “No, you don’t. But I did know your family and I am merely visiting to check on your welfare.”

Her small hands clasped tightly in front of her. She seemed disturbed by the news. “As you can see I’m well enough.”

“Please, Mother,” Eleanor said, glancing at the old woman. “I’d like to speak with Miss McKinnon alone.”

“My lady, I’m sorry but—”

“Alone.” Eleanor’s face went stoic, her gaze cold.

Arabella suddenly looked nervous, like a mouse trapped in the corner by a hungry cat. Or in this case, a demanding woman from the outside world, infiltrating a place of purity and innocence. No, Eleanor did not belong here in the least, but she wouldn’t leave until she spoke to the young woman alone.

“Very well.” The mother superior stood, the legs of her chair screeching over the stone floor. “Five minutes.”

She left the room, leaving the door wide. Ellie had no doubt the old bat was lurking in the hall. “Sit,” Eleanor demanded of the girl. When she hesitated for the briefest of moments, Eleanor was thrilled to see the spark of determination in the young woman’s eyes. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, but there was certainly something about this meek woman that intrigued Ellie. With the right gowns and her hair uncovered, perhaps she could pass as pretty.

Eleanor closed the door. “I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

Arabella stiffened, obviously startled. “I see.”

Eleanor settled in the chair next to hers. “You look very much like him.”

Arabella swallowed hard. Although she covered it well, Ellie didn’t miss the pain that flashed across her eyes. “I have not heard from him in years… is he well?”

“He is healthy.” She narrowed her gaze. “But you know he is alive, don’t you?”

She flushed and looked demurely at her lap. “Yes. I also know what my brother is, my lady.” She clenched her jaw, her gaze growing troubled. “At sixteen I decided to find him. It took some time, but I did. I found him whoring himself at Lady Lavender’s. Agreeing to live here was the only way I could stop myself from becoming him. I was fortunate indeed.”

The horror of what the girl said washed over Ellie. All this time James had been hiding himself away for nothing. How would
he feel if he realized his sister knew the truth about his occupation? If the hardness in her gaze was any indication, Arabella wasn’t too pleased with her brother.

“Fortunate?” Eleanor couldn’t help but ask. She supposed it was better than prostituting, but still she would never consider a woman fortunate to be here of all places. She frowned. Why must women always survive, why could they not thrive?