For friendship.
Partnership.
For the possibility that two people joined by desperation might eventually choose to remain together for better reasons.
Seeing Thomas with his sons.
Discovering his humor.
His quiet kindness.
Those things had nurtured hopes she had not intended to grow.
Now, faced with the weight of his love for Margaret, those hopes seemed foolish.
Presumptuous.
"I should let you return to your work."
Eleanor rose.
"Eleanor."
Her name made her stop.
Thomas's expression had softened.
"I'm grateful for what you're doing here."
He paused.
"For the boys. For this house."
His voice was sincere.
"I don't want you thinking I'm not."
"I know."
"And if you need something, if there's anything you want changed or improved, you only have to ask."
Generous.
Kind.
And painfully distant.
She was useful.
Appreciated.
A housekeeper wearing a wedding ring.
Not truly inside the family's heart.
"Thank you," Eleanor said.
She left.
Upstairs, she sat at the writing desk where Margaret had once planned her future.
Outside, another wind rose.
Eleanor drew her shawl around herself.
She had known this wouldn't be easy.
She had accepted marriage without love.
A family in which she would always be the replacement rather than the first choice.
But hearing Thomas speak of Margaret with such devotion made the truth harder to bear than Eleanor expected.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in."
Daniel peeked around the door.
Nightgown.
Bare feet.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Bad dreams?"
"No. Thinking too much."
He came inside.
Sat on the little chair beside the window.
"I heard you and Papa talking downstairs."
Concern stabbed Eleanor.
"What did you hear?"
"Enough."
Daniel looked down.
"Papa told you about the baby, didn't he? About how Mama died?"
"He did."
"He blames himself."
Daniel's mouth tightened.
"I heard him tell Mr. Murphy once when he thought I was asleep."
He looked at Eleanor.
"But it wasn't his fault."
The fierce loyalty touched her.
"Sometimes people blame themselves for things they couldn't control."
Eleanor chose her words carefully.
"It's one way the mind tries to make sense of something senseless."
"Do you blame yourself for things?"
The question caught her off guard.
"Sometimes."
"Like what?"