The Shadow in the Glass by JJA Harwood (any book recommendations txt) 📕

skin and sink into the sound of her voice. When Mr Pembroke was home, they crept into distant rooms, locking the doors behind them, and stopped each other’s mouths with kisses. The thought of not seeing each other did not even occur to them. The cold was driven away and the dark grew brighter every minute she was with Charles. How could she ever stay away, when he brought so much warmth and light?

But at four o’clock in the morning, she would have to leave. It was Eleanor’s job to clean and light the range first thing in the morning. She could not be late; the others would come looking for her.

Charles pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. His mouth found her neck.

‘Stay here today,’ he murmured, ‘that’s an order from your employer.’

She gave him a playful shove. ‘You know I mustn’t.’

‘I know you want to.’

His hand was sliding across her skin. ‘Yes.’

‘Tell them you’re sick. They won’t suspect.’

‘And if they send for the doctor?’

He grinned. ‘Then I shall nurse you back to health myself.’

His hands were everywhere. He kissed her, reaching for her again – and the front door slammed. Unsteady footsteps rang through the house. Someone was coming up the front stairs. Charles swore, and blushed.

‘Eleanor, I’m so sorry—’

She shushed him. ‘It’s your father.’ She crept out of bed and shoved her clothes back on. Her dress was crumpled, her hair was a mess. One look at her and anyone would know what she had been doing.

Charles was struggling into a dressing gown and trying to flatten his hair. ‘Let me go first. I’ll help him to his room and then you can slip away.’

He left. Eleanor could hear them talking on the floor below. She shook out the creases in her skirts, waiting. When it was quiet, she opened the door and crept out, her hair sagging down the back of her neck.

She’d almost made it to the servants’ staircase when Mr Pembroke lurched up the stairs. He was still in his evening things, but they were damp, crumpled and stinking. Charles was behind him, his face white.

Mr Pembroke stared at her, eyes unfocused, and she took her chance.

Eleanor bobbed a curtsey. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, and left. She heard him retching, and wondered if he would remember.

Later, Eleanor was scrubbing the mould off a windowsill in the library and struggling to keep her eyes open.

Her nights with Charles were bliss, but they took their toll. All her bones were lead and her eyes ached to close. The rocking-chair squeak of the cleaning rag on wet wood. The undulating rumble of wheels over cobblestones. The spitting and sputtering of chestnuts roasting in the street. It was no lullaby, but her eyes were closing nevertheless.

‘Eleanor!’

Her eyes flew open at the sound of Charles’s voice. He strode across the room and knelt beside her.

‘Are you quite well?’

‘I’m just a little tired.’

Guilt flickered across his face. ‘I should never have kept you up all night.’

Eleanor resisted the urge to make a joke. ‘Please, darling, don’t worry.’

‘Mrs F really ought to take on some more girls,’ he said, as he led her to a chair. ‘It’s cruel that the burden should fall on your shoulders.’

‘Do you think she will?’

He grimaced. ‘She’s spoken to Father, but we can’t take on more staff until the roof is repaired. The workmen have been rather unhelpful about Father’s credit.’

Someone coughed.

‘Master Charles,’ said Mrs Fielding, ‘what are you doing?’

Eleanor stood up at once, smoothing her hair with an unsteady hand. How much had Mrs Fielding heard?

Charles straightened up, already smiling. ‘Nothing to worry about, Mrs F. Eleanor was feeling a little unwell.’

‘Ella has duties to attend to,’ said Mrs Fielding, her eyes flickering between them.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Fielding,’ said Eleanor. ‘I’m feeling quite myself again now.’

‘I’m sure you are.’

Charles stiffened, his voice suddenly hard. ‘What do you mean by that, Mrs Fielding?’

Eleanor started back; he sounded just like his father. Mrs Fielding stared at the floor and dropped a curtsey. ‘I meant no harm, Master Charles. I only wish to see that Ella does not shirk her duties.’

Charles gave her a starched smile. ‘I’m sure you needn’t worry about that.’

Mrs Fielding left. Charles turned back to Eleanor, grinning, but she held up a hand. The floorboards creaked; Mrs Fielding was still outside the door, listening.

‘Will that be all, Master Charles?’ Eleanor said, loudly and clearly.

He winked at her. ‘For the present.’

The floorboards creaked again as Mrs Fielding moved away. Eleanor closed the door as quietly as she could.

‘What are we going to do if she finds out?’ she whispered.

Charles caressed her cheek. ‘I told you I won’t let anything happen to you, Eleanor.’

She leant into his hand. ‘We need a plan.’

‘I couldn’t do without you,’ Charles murmured, pressing a kiss on her forehead. ‘If she finds out, we’ll run away.’

‘Do you mean it?’

‘Of course I do! But we’ll need a little time. I’ll have to get some money together, and find lodgings – and of course, we’ll need tickets to Gretna Green.’

Eleanor felt as if she had been bathed in light. Her heart seemed too full of life and love to be contained. She beamed at him, hardly daring to believe what he’d said.

‘Gretna Green?’

Charles kissed her. ‘You don’t think I’d spirit you away and then not marry you? And from there – anywhere you like. It’ll be just like we planned, that night in the library.’ He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. ‘I’d take you to the stars themselves, if you asked.’

In that moment, wings could have sprouted from her back and she would not have questioned it; she could have done anything.

Mrs Fielding was watching Eleanor. Sometimes, when Eleanor was scrubbing the floors or sweeping up ash, she would catch a glimpse of the housekeeper – a reflection in wet marble, or a shadow moving by the grate. Sometimes, Eleanor saw the black-eyed woman too. Her empty eyes might have been following Eleanor, or they might not. It