Her grace is expecting a visitor from the future today. 1889! Oh my. All Eleanor knows about the girl is her name, Miss Eloise de Voss, that she has recently been in France, and that her story involves some misdirected letters.
And here is Miss de Voss, stepping through the parlour door.
“Miss De Voss,” the Duchess says, “welcome. I’m glad you were able to make time in your day for me. Would you like tea, my dear? Although I hear you have just returned from France. Perhaps, like the French, you prefer coffee?”
“Tea will be lovely, Your Grace. Thank you so much for your invitation.”
“What took you to France, dear? I loved Paris back when it was still safe for people like me to travel there–back before the revolution. I don’t know if you know what’s going on in our time, but we’re not currently on friendly terms with the French.”
Eloise nodded. Of course, as a well educated young woman, she must be aware of the long war with the French. Please God it would be over soon! “What took me to France? There was an event there in our time called the Exposition Universelle. I read about it months ago–it’s a kind of World Fair. And I was just so curious, I had to go. Though I admit, I hadn’t seen anything there to compare with that mechanism of yours that made your invitation arrive in my hands in 1889. We’ve heard so much about you, Your Grace, Mother and I simply couldn’t believe it.”
The Duchess of Haverford raises an eyebrow. “How kind of you, Miss De Voss. I have no idea how it works, I must say, but a young man of my acquaintance assured me it would work. Mind you, I suspect him of being a time traveller myself. My son and I have a great interest in supporting new ideas.”
The duchess pours tea into a delicate teacup with pink roses. “I must say, the style you’re wearing is interesting. Is that the style in your time? Why, there is enough fabric at your derriere for my seamstress to make three dresses!” She chuckles to show that she is joking.
Eloise laughed with her. “Why, bustles are all the rage back….I mean, in my day.” She smiles, “Your dress is fetching, Your Grace, but you’d look fabulous in a gown like mine. May I give you my seamstress’ –Oh.” Eloise looks around the parlor. “Perhaps her ancestress is in business now. I’m sure she’d be happy to accommodate you.”
And wouldn’t that set the gossips talking! Eleanor could just imagine the astonishment on the faces of people like Sally Jersey. “I’d be happy to meet her,” she said, a noncommital answer if ever there was one. “Miss De Voss, let us turn to a more important matter. Do you have a beau? Or, even more intriguing, did you find anyone in Paris worth bringing to the altar?”
Eloise chokes on her sip. “Your Grace!” Eloise picked up her napkin, wiped her mouth and wondered if she could fan herself discretely.
The duchess smiles over her teacup. “You didn’t answer the question, Miss De Voss.”
Eloise is blushing. “As a matter of fact, I do have someone of whom I’m fond, however, I met him before I left for Paris.”
Up goes the duchess’s eyebrow again. “And he didn’t convince you to stay home?”
“He had to visit Paris, as it happened.”
“Ah!” Eleanor’s smile broadened. “I was going to ask if anything exciting happened on your journey, but you’ve already answered my question.” Would the time device work both ways, she mused. “I will expect a wedding invitation, my girl.”
Eloise wonders what that look on the duchess’ face meant. “Er? You were saying?”
The Duchess of Haverford, though, was more interested in hearing about this someone of whom Eloise was fond. “Tell us about your beau. Is he handsome?”
Eloise sighs. “He is–though the first time I saw him, I didn’t think so.” Her cheeks heat and she dips her head, hoping some loose hair would hide her embarrassment.
The Duchess laughs “So the fellow is a beast to your beauty?”
“He’s just not what I think most people would think of as being as devastatingly handsome as a lord ought to be. But I lo–” she caught herself. “ Like him.”
A knowing smile graces the Duchess’ face. “What was that I heard, Miss De Voss?”
Eloise puts down her cup. “My mother’s calling me. I’m sure that’s what you heard, Your Grace.”
“Oh, then we shouldn’t keep your loved ones waiting. Especially the young man you mentioned?”
Miss Eloise De Voss is the heroine of Letters to Ellie (The Lost Slipper Society, book 2) by Juli D. Revezzo.
Letters to Ellie
London debutant Eloise fell in love with a foreign baron who returned to Luxembourg far too soon. Unfortunately, her heart is broken when their correspondence suddenly breaks off.
After a lowly maid, Ellie, begins receiving love letters from the Luxembourg baron, she doesn’t know what to think. She is so distracted by the possibilities, she cannot see a dear neighbor’s heartfelt devotion.
When the misdirected letters are discovered at long last, will either Ellie or Eloise find happiness–or has fate dealt them both a cruel blow?
Buy links: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DV532S1D
Letters to Ellie comes out February 5.
An excerpt from Letters to Ellie:
Winifred frowned. “Lord De Voss?”
Her father paused and peered down the table at her friend. “Yes, Miss Clankton?”
“Eloise is wondering something.”
All eyes turned on her. Somehow, thanks to their scrutiny, now didn’t seem the time. Not that what she wanted was particularly personal, but a sense of exposure crept over her. She couldn’t do it. So she only smiled. “Don’t forget, you promised me a dance.”
He reached for her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”
“She wonders about her gift,” said her brother, round-faced and chestnut-haired Jack. “I’ll bet that’s what troubles her.”
“As I said, dear, we’ll discuss it during our dance.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a tradition we have, you see.”
“To teach our children the value of patience.” Her mother shot her a look.
Eloise cringed. “I failed at that today.”
Yes, asking right now was the wrong thing to do. Maybe your plan is a bit too ambitious. They surely won’t agree to it. Not when they had the bill for this party to consider. And your dress, and all the food.
Soon, they returned to the ballroom.
The first quadrille played and Eloise danced with a handsome gentleman. He had a fine fashion sense, if no color-sense–his coat was a dark brown with green stripes. They paused for a moment in their dance, and she found herself facing her father. He touched her cheek and stepped aside to continue his dance with the young man’s mother.
At the end of the set, Winifred approached her again. “Did I see you cross paths with your father? Did you ask him about Paris?”
Eloise drooped against a nearby oak pillar. “No. He’s far too distracted by the party and our guests. Besides, I’m not sure I should ask. He’ll say no, I’m sure of it.”
Winifred flinched backward. “My word!”
Something landed between them. “Are you all right?” Eloise peered at the floor. “What is that?”
Winifred picked it up. “It’s a pit of some sort.”
Eloise took it from her, sniffed. “It smells like plum.”
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