Fenella J Miller by Lady Eleanor's Secret

to escape.
    “Lord Bentley, I must apologize for being a little late.” She hesitated, concerned by his unnatural pallor. “You do not look at all well. Are you sure you wish to proceed?”
    His eyes lost their frosty look and he bowed slightly. If his valet had not grasped his elbow he might have pitched forward onto his face. “I did not recognize you, Lady Eleanor, which is why I appeared confused.” He shook the hand from his arm and turned to the curate who was shifting from foot to foot, his Bible clutched tight to his chest. “Let us get this done, Lady Eleanor is here now.”
    Somehow she stumbled through her vows and before she knew it he was pushing a plain gold band over her knuckle. She was no longer Eleanor Thorrington, but Eleanor Bentley. Her brother could not touch her now. A wave of relief flooded through her. She felt the weight of the past few years lift, and she looked up at her husband, her eyes shining and her mouth curved.
    “My lord, you cannot know what this means to me. I shall not let you down. I know you wish to leave here today, but permit me to suggest you return to your chamber. You are not well enough to travel at the moment.”
    He appeared bemused by her statement, staring at her for the second time as if he didn’t recognize her. He was wandering in his wits; his head injury must be worse than it appeared. “Foster, we must get him back to bed and send for the physician. I am most concerned for his lordship’s well-being.”
    “Am I not to have a say in this matter?” Her husband’s tone was remarkably firm for someone who looked at death’s door. “I have no intention of returning to bed, my dear, I wish to leave here today. I take it you do not have much baggage?”
    “I do not, but I cannot leave without saying my farewells to the children. Could we compromise on this, sir? Will you not agree to lie down for an hour or two? This will allow me sufficient time to make ready.”
    She thought he would refuse. His eyes narrowed and he stared at her thoughtfully before answering. “Very well—two hours, no more. My carriage shall be outside at half past one. I expect you, and whatever belongings you wish to bring, to be in it.”
    Foster smiled at her and she knew she had at least one friend. Curtseying gracefully, she nodded. “Thank you, my lord.” She intended to take his other arm but his valet shook his head and she remained where she was.
    Walking slowly, but definitely unaided, Lord Bentley left the schoolroom, followed by his manservant. No sooner had the door closed behind him than she was enveloped in a hug. Unused to such demonstrations of affection, she stiffened instinctively and Betty immediately released her.
    “I beg your pardon, Lady Eleanor, but I’m that pleased for you. He’s a good man, whatever the circumstances. You’ll be better off with him then you are at the moment.”
    A slight cough behind them reminded them they were not alone. The curate was waiting for the marriage certificate to be signed by the witnesses.
    “This has to be done in front of me, my lady. I cannot leave the premises until Mr. Foster has made his mark as well.”
    “I am sure he will return immediately once he has escorted Lord Bentley to his chambers. It will be in order for you to wait up here until he does so. Betty, please send down for refreshments for Mr. Anderson. I am going to arrange for my packing to be done, and then shall go out to the maze and speak to the children. I doubt that I shall see you again, at least not today.”
    Eleanor couldn’t continue, Betty and Mary were the only friends she had. They had been good to her and she would miss them. She prayed Edward did not vent his spleen on his children when he discovered her defection. He could keep her inheritance. As long as she was out of his reach, that was all she cared about.
    “Good luck, my lady, and don’t worry about us. We shall manage well enough.”
    Eleanor met no one on her on her way