The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Twenty Eight Part One

Eleanor stood, clutching Bernard's journal as if it were a lifeline. She shook a little, not sure if that should be attributed to nerves, or a chill.

She had definitely ran cold when hearing her name called out.

Betsy crossed the large anteroom and embraced Eleanor. Pulling back, Betsy rubbed her hands up and down the lady's arms, trying to do something to help dispel the shaking she felt when she held her, "Just blame it all on Papa." Betsy rested her palm on Eleanor's cheek. Looking very determinedly into Eleanor's eyes, Betsy tried to impart some of her strength to the elderly lady.

"I was planning on that already, my dear. Pray for me?" Eleanor gave Betsy a timid smile, as she moved to answer her cousin's summons.

While Eleanor was definitely fearful of the King's reaction to her revelations, she was more than ready to have this behind her. Taking a deep fortifying breath, Eleanor entered the King's inner sanctum.

"Cousin." The King greeted Eleanor from his place next to a side table, a servant was pouring him a warmed toddy.

Eleanor clutched the journal to her breast, and gave him a shallow dip, sufficing well enough as a curtsy for an aging relative.

Lady Eleanor Kent and the King were well acquainted, him holding especially fond memories of her from his youth. Ellie had been older than he, and his rambunctious cousins, she had been of an age to fish him out of the fountains when he had been younger. A young lady herself, she had been just that much older than he and his friends, to be fun, and engaging, organizing games and entertainment in an attempt to help keep them out of trouble.

And he; the King chuckled to himself, remembering his youth; had had a penchant for finding trouble. He had been bored, young, and sheltered, finding any chance to run amuck, he had taken it. He smirked ruefully as he thought of much discipline he had most likely escaped, thanks to this woman before him.

He raised his cup, along with a dark brow, "Chocolate, or a toddy?"

Eleanor approached, "Mmm, the toddy, please." She wanted to ask the King's man to toss in an extra shot of whiskey, but she knew that it probably would not help.

Confession is good for the soul, she thought. We shall just see about that.

"Come, sit with me and tell me why you are here." The King graciously gestured to an intimate seating area in one corner of the room, well away from the servants and his men.

The servant followed with Eleanor's cup and saucer, setting it on a small table next to her chair, he then retreated back to his post.

Eleanor set the book in her lap and lifted the cup, sipping from it for a moment, while the King did the same. Allowing its warmth to creep through her body from the inside out, she stalled hoping the drink would lend her comfort and courage.

"So what have you there, I noticed you clutching it most fervently, what have you found?" The King's dark eyes questioned Eleanor. He was very curious as to why she was here, she seemed nervous, or, slightly frightened, he could not remember her ever having been so in his presence before.

Eleanor took another fortifying sip, then set her cup aside. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then simply told him the truth, "I have Alexander's daughter out there." She waved her hand to indicate the door to the anteroom.

The King stared at her for a moment while he let her words sink in. "You have  Al...."

The King's eyes, black as night, began to shimmer slightly. He closed them and tried to fight against the sharp, piercing feeling suddenly assailing his nose. When his throat began to close tightly and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, he opened them, giving Eleanor such a tortured look, she began to well up with tears also.