Mrs Dunwoody did not hit Aaron with a cutting remark. She did not raise her hem and make a run for it.
She cried, “Snakes!”
Then fainted.
Chapter Twenty-One
Burial Ground, Shoemakers Row
Three days later
Eleanor stood at her mother’s graveside, staring at the small headstone and reading the simple epitaph. It said nothing about the complex nature of the woman who’d left her child and sought a new life. It gave no context. Was Ivy troubled or selfish? Was her heart made of glass or stone?
Despite Eleanor’s thoughts, the atmosphere was not sombre but peaceful. The sun’s rays broke through the trees, the early autumn leaves a painter’s palette of oranges and golds. A gentle wind caressed her face, like a purifying breath from the heavens.
Life was good.
She was happy.
The past belonged in this place of quiet reflection. A place where one could close the wrought-iron gate and leave the bad memories behind.
The pad of footsteps on the narrow path signalled Emily’s arrival. Eleanor did not turn around but waited for her sister to join her. If she looked at Emily, her resolve might crumble.
“Coming here doesn’t help ease the grief,” Emily said, gazing upon the moss-covered stone. She crouched and placed a posy of dried wildflowers on the grave. “There must be questions you want to ask. Things you want to know.”
“Can one ever truly understand a person’s motives?”
People told stories from their own perspective. They were flawed, altered to cast the teller in a good light. Eleanor doubted her father would admit to being cold and unloving or that his presence cast a morbid shadow over the house. With his proud bearing, he’d have claimed to be a man of principles who always did his best.
“Mother loved you,” Emily said.
Eleanor felt an odd flutter of hope in her chest but knew to ignore it. “Love is conveyed in actions, not words.”
Love was a fresh flower in the vase by her bed. It was a soft kiss on the forehead as she drifted to sleep. It was a sprint across town on a cold rainy night, so they might share the same bed.
“It’s why I know this is the last time we will ever speak,” she said, her heart breaking because she had witnessed how deeply Theo loved his siblings and had longed to feel the same about Emily. “You hurt me. You destroyed any trust I had.”
Emily gripped Eleanor’s arm, forcing her to turn from the grave. “You know I had no choice but to do Uncle Jack’s bidding. He’s a monster.”
“Is he a monster or a drunken fool who doesn’t care how you make money?” Jack Rogers was the obvious scapegoat. “I took an inventory of my stock. Shall I list the missing items? The stolen yards of ribbon? The gloves and stockings you’ve pilfered since you began working for me?”
She had been too trusting.
A fool to think she and Emily were anything alike.
“You think I stole those things?” Emily released Eleanor like she had the plague. “Yes, I took the silk, but only because Jack made me.”
Eleanor sighed. “I met your Aunt Daisy at St Clement’s. She said you have our mother’s wild streak. That you believe you’re owed something in life but refuse to work. That’s why Uncle Jack threatened to throw you out.”
Emily jerked. “And you believe that evil hag? You believe a stranger over your own flesh and blood?”
“You trashed the shop as an excuse to steal more stock. You came back to see what else you could steal, but we surprised you. You pushed me down the stairs, Emily. Anna said you told her about my fall, though I had not told a soul.”
Emily hadn’t mentioned their mother out of concern for Eleanor. She had not wanted to ruin her little enterprise by receiving a negative reaction.
Knowing she was cornered, Emily used tears to incite pity. “It’s all right for you,” she sobbed, though her cheeks remained dry. “You’ve had a comfortable life. Your father left you money to rent the shop and buy stock. What about me? My father left me beholden to my uncle.”
Why was that? Eleanor wondered.
Perhaps Emily was too much like their mother. Indeed, Eleanor was grateful her father had invented a fictitious role model.
“You’re not my responsibility,” Eleanor said.
Emily sniffed back absent tears. “But we’re kin.”
She thought of how much Theo loved his sister Delphine, yet they shared no blood ties. Blood ties were a crutch selfish siblings used to assert their will.
“We’re different people. I would have worked hard to forge a bond, not deliberately set out to hurt you. What if I’d died from my injuries? Would you have wept or been the first to hire a solicitor to claim the contents of my shop?”
“I know it looks bad, but I can change.”
“I would have to see proof before I could ever trust you again.” Eleanor took one last look at her mother’s grave. Daisy had confirmed Eleanor’s unfortunate ancestry. “You’re lucky I’ve not given your name to the officers at Bow Street. I suggest you find work. Strive to do better and pray for forgiveness. Goodbye, Emily.”
With a heavy heart, Eleanor left her sister and navigated the path back to Shoemakers Row. Thoughts of Theo slipped into her mind, reviving her broken spirit. She was counting the hours until she saw him again, until passion overwhelmed them and they lost themselves in each other’s bodies.
When she arrived at her shop, she was greeted by the alluring smell of Theo’s cologne, and noticed her sewing box on the counter next to a fresh plum tart.
