Rosamund’s gaze also moved briefly around the room before returning to Eleanor.
"It is very much as I remember."
"Have you visited before?"
"On several occasions, yes," Rosamund said. "Though not recently."
There was no emphasis in it. No explanation was offered, though Eleanor rather thought she needed one. Instead, Eleanor gestured lightly toward the seating.
"Will you take tea?"
"Yes, thank you. There is no need for you to send any special instructions. The staff know how I take it."
They sat, and for a moment, the conversation remained entirely proper. There were the expected exchanges, the politeacknowledgments, and Eleanor wondered if she truly had misjudged the situation entirely. Looks, as she very well knew, could be deceiving, and there was every chance that Lady Rosamund was merely a family friend, or perhaps a young lady in search of an ally.
"It must be a considerable adjustment," Rosamund said after a moment. "To arrive here under such circumstances."
"It has been a change," Eleanor replied. "I shall not pretend otherwise, as any married lady would feel much the same."
"And yet you appear very settled already. It is quite remarkable."
"I thank you for that. It is true that I have had no difficulty so far."
"I am not surprised. You seem well suited to it, and I have no doubt that the staff here are of tremendous help. They always were to me."
"You are kind to say so."
There it was again, that hint of hurt in Lady Rosamund’s eyes that Eleanor could not quite understand. Rosamund regarded her for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, as though wondering whether to say what she wanted to.
"Harrowby requires a certain temperament," she said with a faint laugh. "He does not accommodate those who expect him to adapt to them."
"I do not expect him to."
"No," Rosamund said. "I imagine you do not. They never do. Julian has always preferred things to remain as they are, and that has always been enough to frighten away almost any young lady."
"Until now," Eleanor reminded her.
"Yes, until now."
Eleanor did not like the way the young lady before her used her husband’s first name, as though she had any right to. To her knowledge, they were not at all at a reasonable stage to speak in such a manner, and it felt inappropriate.
"I have observed his tendencies," Eleanor continued. "I see no trouble with them, though I suppose that more demanding ladies would expect changes to be made. In that respect, it is just as well that he chose me as his bride, is it not?"
"It is not a flaw," Rosamund said lightly. "Though it can be challenging, depending on one’s disposition. They always expect more, and they always think that they will be the one to get it, but it never happens. That is when they remember their place."
The words settled between them. Eleanor did not respond to it immediately. Instead, she reached for her cup, more to give herself a moment than from any desire to drink. It was evident that Lady Rosamund had come to cause trouble, and that was something that she would not allow. No, she could not allow it. At last, she had something that was hers, and she was determined to keep it that way.
"You certainly know the house well," she said, allowing the conversation to shift.
"I know it as it was," Rosamund replied. "Though I imagine very little has changed."
"It is as my husband likes it."
"That is precisely what I would expect."
Rosamund’s gaze lingered again, not on the room this time, but on Eleanor herself. She tilted her head slightly, as though considering that more carefully. The quiet returned, though it no longer carried the same simplicity as before. There was something beneath it now, something unspoken but unmistakable.
It was familiarity. Not Eleanor’s, but Rosamund’s.