(This post is an excerpt from Paradise At Last, which I am currently frantically trying to get finished. I hope to publish in March.)

“I did not realise that the Duke of Winshire was a close acquaintance of Mrs Kellwood,” Eleanor commented. An intimate acquaintance? Perhaps. He had certainly emerged from her house well before the usual visiting hours. She wrestled with the hot jealousy that attempted to escape her iron control. It is none of my business. James and I have—had—no understanding. Especially not after…

Henry, Baron Redepenning, leaned closer to the carriage window to watch the couple strolling down the street together, Mrs Kellwood clinging to James’s arm. “They are much in one another’s company at balls and concerts and the like, but I have not heard of an affair,” he said.

Not consoling. If James had taken the woman as a lover, he would be discrete, though leaving by her front door in full daylight was hardly inconspicuous. Did that mean they were not lovers? It is none of your business, Eleanor, she scolded herself.

She had encountered Henry at Chirbury House when she called to collect Frances. Frances had greeted her with enthusiasm, but was less delighted at the idea of returning to Haverford House.

She, Daisy, Antonia, and a couple of other acquaintances had a full timetable of activities planned, “And very little time to complete them all, Aunt Eleanor,” Frances had explained, “since Daisy is leaving London at the end of the week to go back to Gloucestershire. Coming home would mean extra time travelling every day, and I would miss out on all the fun in the evenings. I may stay, may I not?”

And so Eleanor had left without Frances, but with Henry, whom she had offered to drop at the headquarters of the Horse Guard where he had his office, on her way back to Haverford House.

On second thoughts, she might call on a couple of other acquaintances while she was out. Her niece-in-law, Anne Chirbury, had mentioned a few people who were in town, and had talked about the difficulties facing the country-folk with the summer’s poor harvest. And, too, Henry was concerned for the injured and sick soldiers and sailors who were still trickling home from foreign ports after the tragedy that was Waterloo ended the long war with France.

Surely Cedrica Fournier would be home, and she would have a different perspective on the problems facing Londoners, since she lived here year round, and she and her husband owned a successful restaurant.

None of the Winderfield women were in town, though Eleanor would, in any case, be reluctant to call on James’s family without a direct invitation. But Henry had mentioned that the Earl of Hythe had arrived back from Vienna, and his sister, Lady Felicity Belvoir, had co-operated with Eleanor on several philanthropic causes. She could think of one or two others, too.

By the end of the afternoon, she had met with five of the woman she had worked with before, three in high society and two with a firmer finger on the pulse of the merchant ranks of Society. All of them had causes to espouse, and all of them were doing something about it.

“I learned from the best, Aunt Eleanor,” said Cedrica, who was a distant cousin and had once been Eleanor’s secretary. “I see a need and figure out how to bring it to the attention of others, as you taught me.”

The other women repeated variations on the same theme. They credited Eleanor with the inspiration, which was kind of them, but the fact was they were doing very well without her. When they realised she was looking for work, they all suggested roles for her. And all of the roles were minor, and could have been done by anyone.

In penance for her pique at that thought, she accepted them all. At least she would be busy for the few weeks until Haverford and Charlotte returned from Paris, and they all retired to the country.