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

Only because Mr Pembroke thought it was. I won’t have you for a daughter-in-law, he’d said. Even the memory made Eleanor’s lip curl.

That was not freedom. Even though they would be running away, Mr Pembroke would still dictate the terms of their marriage. He was a vile puppetmaster, and the only way to be free of him was to cut the strings.

Eleanor remembered the black-eyed woman. If you want something, my dear, you must ask for it. She shivered.

There was a gentle tap at her front door. Eleanor sat up at once. Charles? But no, it couldn’t be. Surely he wouldn’t be so careless as to come to her house, when Bessie reported everything she did to Mr Pembroke.

Bessie barged into the drawing room. ‘It’s Miss Hill,’ she said, and stomped back to the kitchen. Miss Hill gave the maid a brief nod as she left, and Eleanor felt a prickle of fear. What had Bessie told her?

‘Good morning, Miss Hartley,’ said Miss Hill. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

Eleanor put on her most brilliant smile. ‘Not at all! It’s such a pleasure to see you again. Will you sit down?’

‘You’re very kind.’

Miss Hill’s dress had been recently mended and as she sat Eleanor glimpsed a pair of scuffed boots. She was not the only one observing. Miss Hill’s dark eyes darted to the bare walls, Eleanor’s black dress, the empty coal scuttle. Throughout it all her face retained the same expression of reserved interest, and Eleanor sat up straighter. She was clearly dealing with an expert.

‘Please accept my condolences,’ said Miss Hill. ‘I know you were close to Mrs Cleary. I would have come earlier, had circumstances allowed.’

Eleanor tried to look suitably distressed. ‘Yes, I – I miss her terribly, of course. Such a shock. You must be quite bereft.’

‘I’m sure she would have been proud to see you coping with such grace.’

Proud? Why had she said proud? Eleanor remembered her last dinner with Mrs Cleary. She certainly hadn’t been proud of her connection to Eleanor after that. Why would Miss Hill bring back such unpleasant memories? What did she want?

‘Thank you. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’

Miss Hill’s fingers pinched the cuffs of her dress. Her face was still polite and calm, but Eleanor felt a vicious thrill. She’d given herself away. She was nervous.

‘Would you be so good as to write me a character reference? I hoped you might oblige, as you have observed me in my role as Mrs Cleary’s companion. Without one, I should have to go into service, and as a young lady yourself I’m sure you can understand my trepidation.’

Eleanor relaxed. Miss Hill was not going to demand a share of Mrs Cleary’s money or a house in the country. If a new position was all Miss Hill wanted, Eleanor would have nothing to worry about.

Eleanor went to her writing desk and pulled out pen and paper. She was dipping her pen into the inkwell when a thought occurred to her that sent cold fear crawling through her veins.

Miss Hill had told Mrs Cleary about Eleanor’s past. What would Eleanor do if she also told the police? Miss Hill knew that Eleanor had lied to get close to Mrs Cleary. What would the Inspector make of such information?

Eleanor’s hands began to sweat. Giving Miss Hill what she wanted would be like loosing an arrow into the dark; she would not know where it would land. She had to keep Miss Hill in her debt, so that she would never think of going to the police.

‘I’d be very happy to oblige you, Miss Hill.’

Eleanor penned a glowing recommendation, knowing that Miss Hill could see the paper from her seat. Shame crawled across Eleanor’s skin. Then, she tucked it into a drawer.

She turned to Miss Hill, who was pinching the cuffs of her dress again. ‘There,’ Eleanor said, smiling. ‘When you find your next position, give me the address and I shall send it along myself.’

A muscle flickered in Miss Hill’s jaw. ‘That would be most disruptive for you, Miss Hartley. I should hate to cause you any trouble. If I could take it now …’

Eleanor laughed, cringing at the sound. Miss Hill had hinted it had been difficult for her to find the position with Mrs Cleary. And yet Eleanor had no choice; she could not let Miss Hill talk. ‘That is sweet of you! Please don’t worry about causing me any trouble. I should be glad to help you.’ Eleanor smiled. ‘You have only to ask.’

For a second, Miss Hill was motionless. Her face, at last, was blank. Then, she rose to her feet and assumed her expression of polite detachment once again. ‘Thank you, Miss Hartley. Incidentally, on a more sombre note I should be grateful if you would inform me when Mrs Cleary’s funeral will be held.’

Eleanor stiffened. She’d been so distracted she’d all but forgotten the funeral. Mrs Cleary had made her own arrangements before she died, and when the police had released the body it had been shipped back to Ireland as she’d wanted. Eleanor had put the undertaker’s bill in a drawer, and hadn’t thought of it since.

‘Of course,’ Eleanor lied. ‘Yes, I shall – yes. I will write and inform you of the details. Good morning, Miss Hill.’

Eleanor turned away, shame curdling in the pit of her stomach. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the inkwell as Miss Hill left, and started back. The pupils of Eleanor’s reflected eyes were enormous yawning pits.

Eleanor and Charles met in another church, this time on the edge of Soho. Under the cover of the choir, they whispered their plans to each other. They tried to act like strangers, but behind the high backs of the pews, they were holding hands.

Charles ran a thumb across the back of Eleanor’s hand. ‘It won’t be long now,’ he promised. ‘A few more weeks – a month, at most. I can’t bear to be apart from you