Page 4 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“My lady. Lady Eleanor requests that you take luncheon in the Blue Room. Her Grace believes it suitable for the day.”

The Blue Room was prepared when she entered, two place settings, nothing excessive, nothing intimate. Eliza took the seat near the window where light fell in a clean, narrow stripe across the table.

Mr. Henslow arrived moments later, carrying a ledger and the cautious expression of a man who had rehearsed his words three times before stepping into the room.

“My lady,” he said with a bow. “Forgive the intrusion. I wished to assure you that the staff remains committed to stability in this transitional period.”

Transitional. A polite word for uncertainty.

He continued, “Naturally, change unsettles some. It may be wise to consider your alignments early.”

Henslow, of course. Eleanor was correct. She let out a deep sigh. So, this is where it begins.

Eliza looked up at him, not unkindly. “You assume I stand without one.”

A flicker of discomfort crossed his features—barely noticeable, but there.

“I meant only…”

“I am well situated,” Eliza said, her voice even.

He bowed again, retreating with more haste than dignity. When he left, Eliza’s fingers tightened around her teacup before she set it down. Three seconds of tension, then composure reclaimed.

So. The lines had already begun forming. She should have expected as much.

The door opened without ceremony.

Clara Hartleigh entered, and the air shifted in the deliberate way it did when a woman accustomed to silence chose to step forward.

“Eliza,” Clara said warmly. “I’m glad you came.”

Eliza rose. “Your Grace.”

Clara’s smile softened. “Please. Clara.”

“As you wish.”

They stood facing one another, two women shaped by the same house in different ways, both aware of the power in choosing courtesy over competition.

“You held it all steady,” Clara said gently. “The tenants. The house. Even the rhythm of things. I saw what it took.”

So, this is what it feels like, she thought. To have it seen. And not have to carry it alone.

Eliza met her gaze. “You’ll find your way with it. Hartleigh teaches, if one listens.”

Clara’s gaze lingered, reading more than Eliza offered aloud. Then she nodded once.

Acceptance, not challenge.

“The future will require all of us,” Clara said quietly. “Even when we pretend otherwise.”

Eliza let the truth of it settle in her bones.

The future had arrived.

And it had done so with a smile that promised both peace and disruption.

Chapter Two