Epilogue

 

It was well past midnight as Eleanor sat at the desk that once belonged to her husband, staring at a letter that had arrived earlier that day. The sender had written many correspondences when Eleanor had first come to Scarlett Hall; at first, perhaps four times a year. As time progressed, however, the correspondences trickled and eventually ended a few years later. Eleanor had written several times since, yet never received a reply. One day she gave up altogether.

Letting out a sigh, she traced a finger over the seal that brought back memories of a woman who had at one time been a close friend. A lady who had been with child and was forced to leave Rumsbury lest the scorn of the ton ruin her good name forever.

At the time, Eleanor was heartbroken, for Lady Rachel Prescott had been a dear friend. And although much time had passed, Eleanor still considered the woman close. Yet, her curiosity grew. Why, after all these years, had Rachel written to her? It was a question that had kept her from opening the letter, for what it could contain brought about a significant sense of worry.

After several moments of inner turmoil, she tore open the seal and read.

 

Dear Eleanor,

 

I do not know if you will receive this letter, for it has been many years since we last corresponded. Despite this fact, I will make the attempt, for what I have to say is of the utmost importance.

 

I have so much to share with you, so I will apprise you of what is happening in my life at the moment. Graham is now married and has gone to Scotland with his new bride, where he will take over her family’s estate. He has become wise beyond his years, and his wife is an amazing woman who will make him happy in their lives together.

 

Rose has grown to be the young woman I have always hoped her to be. She is kind, beautiful, and intelligent, and it is because of her that I am writing to you this day.

 

The purpose of my letter is to inform you that I am ill, very ill. In honesty, I do not know how much longer I will continue to breathe on this earth. The doctor believes I will not live to Christmas, and I do not doubt his words.

 

I am scared, and I beg of you to come see me. You see, there is a secret that I have kept which I must share with you. It is my hope that this secret can finally be told before death comes for me, and so I hope you will find it in your heart to call as soon as possible.

 

Sincerely,

Rachel

 

Setting the letter aside, Eleanor rose and walked over to her place at the window that overlooked the gardens. Memories of meeting Rachel many years before brought a smile. It had been Rachel who welcomed Eleanor to Rumsbury, being a friend Eleanor desperately needed. Yet, that smile faded knowing the woman was ill.

Then there was the secret that Rachel wished to share, a feeling not unfamiliar to Eleanor for she had many. What secret could an old friend have that concerned her, and why reveal it now after so many years?

A knock at the door made Eleanor start, and she turned as Forbes entered the room. He moved on silent steps as he approached her.

“The hour is late,” he said in the solicitous demeanor that was always his. “Should you not be abed by now?”

Eleanor smiled. “I will be soon,” she replied. “However, I must leave tomorrow, and I ask that you accompany me.”

“Of course. Where will we be going?”

Eleanor turned to the window once again. “To London,” she replied. “To see an old friend.”