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

them away, and yearned to ease his burden as simply as that. For all that she told him it was not his fault, he would always blame himself. He thought of her the way he always had done: a poor, sweet girl deceived by the brutal world around her. Innocent.

She was tempted to tell him everything. He thought she’d lost the baby; he didn’t know what she had done. The secret weighed on her like manacles. And not just that. She’d told no one about the black-eyed woman who stole through every shadow. No one knew about the terrible things the black-eyed woman had done – no one had even seen her. If Eleanor told him, there would be no more barriers between them. At last, she could share that burden, and Charles would truly know Eleanor when he looked at her.

The thought was terrifying.

How could she do it? It would be like cutting open her chest and peeling back her ribs to show him the pulsing mess beneath. And what if he turned away? What if he, of all people, looked at her with horror and disgust as she told him what she’d done?

He would think her mad. Worse, he would believe her, and think her a murderess. Shock, disbelief, fear, maybe even hate – she could never allow him to feel such things about her. She was a good person in every other aspect; let him see those parts of her instead. The black-eyed woman had killed all those people, and she knew that Eleanor did not want her to do it. Eleanor was still the friend who had fed and clothed Leah when she was starving, the girl who had tried her best to protect Aoife, and the woman who loved Charles.

Eleanor knew she was not a murderess, but she did not want Charles to see her that way.

So she said nothing. She smoothed his hair, placed a hand against his cheek, watched him close his eyes. He needed her so much it made her heart soar.

‘I love you,’ she said.

He gathered her into his arms and placed her in his lap, as if she were a little girl. She buried her face in his chest, and felt his tears drip onto her forehead when he kissed her hair.

‘I love you too,’ he said, his voice thick. Guilt burned in the pit of her stomach. She was glad she could not see his face.

Charles sagged in his chair, head lolling on his shoulder. The fire smoked and spat in the fog seeping down the chimney, but it was not enough to wake him. Now that he was asleep, Eleanor could see where the new lines on his face had settled, and the way his shirt hung where it had once fitted. He wouldn’t hear of sleeping in his own bed. It was all she could do to persuade him to eat, and even then he had his meals sent up to her room.

The peace would not last.

For now, she was safe. She was still recovering, and until she was out of bed Charles would be by her side. But when she was well enough to leave, she would be sent away. On her only visit, Mrs Fielding had looked Eleanor in the eye and placed her case at the foot of the bed. Aoife had sneaked up after the housekeeper had left, red-eyed and pale.

‘Oh, Ella,’ she’d whispered, as Charles slept in the chair by the bed, ‘I’ll miss you something fierce.’

Eleanor took Aoife’s hand. ‘You won’t. You’re coming with me.’

Disbelief swept across Aoife’s face. ‘What? But I – what about Micheál? I’ve to pay for his medicines, I can’t leave this place.’

‘They’re putting me up in a house somewhere. They’re giving me a maid. I’ve asked for you. You’ll still get your wages and you’ll be away from all of this.’

Aoife’s eyes were alight. ‘Can Daisy come too?’

‘I can’t take both of you. I’m sorry.’

Aoife took her hand away. She pressed her lips together as though she was trying not to cry.

‘Daisy will be all right,’ Eleanor soothed, ‘she’s a strong girl. Mrs Banbury will keep her in the kitchen as much as she can, and she’s still got that reference. She’ll manage.’

Even as she tried to sound comforting, Eleanor could feel the lies swirling underneath her words. It would be cruel to leave any girl alone in Granborough House. But Eleanor could only take one maid with her, and Daisy – who was sharp, and watchful, and cynical – stood a far better chance of surviving Granborough House than Aoife.

Aoife nodded to Charles. ‘Did you get all that because of him, then?’

Eleanor looked away, blushing. Aoife would never understand the truth.

‘He was really going to marry you, wasn’t he?’

Eleanor looked at Charles. His head was slumped onto his chest; his neck would ache when he awoke. The thought put an unexpected lump in her throat. Such a little thing to cry over.

‘I thought we were being robbed when he came back,’ whispered Aoife. ‘We was all in our nightgowns and the front door comes crashing open and there’s steps on the servants’ stairs. Daisy and me thought it was – well, they’re saying it wasn’t that lad from the butcher’s now, aren’t they, but I never liked him. Anyway, we went upstairs and there he was, with …’

She trailed off.

‘He locked himself in with you after the doctor went,’ she said. ‘Yelling through the door at the master when he tried to have you sent away. D’you think you’ll get to see him, once you’ve left?’

The weight of the bargain Eleanor had made seemed to smother her. ‘No. I don’t suppose I shall.’

Aoife glanced over her shoulder. ‘Well … if I’m coming with you, I’d come back and visit Daisy on occasion. If you wanted to write to him, I could bring the letters with me.’

Eleanor snatched up Aoife’s hands, hope fluttering like a caged bird. ‘You would? Really?’

Aoife smiled. ‘Surely I would! You’ve read