Tapping her foot against the floor, Eleanor leans forward in the chair as her eyes scan the newspaper, pages scattered along the surface of the dressing table. Her tired eyes survey the words.
'After reading the previous reviews of Miss Eleanor William's Lady Macbeth performance, she did not disappoint —she was in fact depressing.'
Lip quivering, she snatches the paper from the table, looking down at the article between her tears and attempts to blink them away. She clears her throat, forehead creasing as she crumples up the paper and tosses it to the side carelessly.
Grabbing her coat from the back of the door, she hastily pulls it on over her dress, throws the door open and slams it shut behind herself.
"Eleanor? Eleanor!"
"Yes!" She whips around to face Emily who has her hand raised at Eleanor to gain her attention.
"Is everything alright?"
"Splendid, yes," She sniffles, her nose reddening.
Emily places her hands on her hips. "Are you sure? You don't seem—"
"I'm fine." Eleanor nods, turning on her heel, a nonchalant wave over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Storming out of the side entrance, she shuts the door with a bang, proceeding to kick the door a few times with an exasperated groan. She slams her fists against the wall beside the door, chest heaving as she holds back more tears.
"This seems familiar."
She jumps back, startled by his voice and a hand on her chest as she regains her footing.
"Sorry, I'm earlier than we planned."
"Albert," She breathes a sigh.
He rushes forward, eyes full of concern. "Why are you crying, Eleanor?"
Brushing the hair from her face, she huffs a weak laugh, waving him off. "I'm not crying, it's nothing at all."
"Eleanor," His eyes try to find her own and he steeps his head down. "Please, tell me what troubles you."
Giving in to his gaze, her glossy eyes meet his and his chest tightens.
As he opens his mouth to talk, Eleanor raises a finger to his lips to silence him. "Please, Albert, I'm fine. It was merely another poor review, as to be expected."
His warm touch meets her hand, lowering it from his lips, before holding her hands together comfortingly. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't ask again. But I don't wish to brush aside the tears you shed. At least promise me you'll smile."
She nods, the corner of her mouth turning up and he smiles in return. Lacing their fingers together, Albert motions to their hands.
"Is this okay?"
"It's nice." She responds, biting back a wider smile and wiping under her eyes. The pair begin their evening stroll together, hand in hand, down the streets of London.
Lit only by streetlamps, the roads are fairly quiet, horse-drawn carriages going by and restaurants bustling with people inside.
"Are you warm enough?" Albert asks.
Eleanor nods, her other hand finding its way to his arm and she hugs into his side as they walk.
He smiles to himself. "I was surprised you suggested an evening stroll."
"I have somewhere I want to show you that can only be accessed by foot," She tells him. "I thought it made a nice change from taking a carriage everywhere."
He agrees. "It's a great change of scenery. My work doesn't allow for much besides going back and forth between meetings and my home."
"Exactly. And I can guarantee that you won't have seen this place either." She tells him.
Glancing down at her as they continue walking, he nods. "I can't wait."
"So, I'm still rather shocked from the events on the Noahtic," Eleanor raises her eyebrows. "That wasn't what I expected at all."
Albert nods. "Indeed, the ballet was much more impressive than I thought."
She huffs a laugh. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
He chuckles. "Of course. Yes, it was a rather surprising turn of events. What did you make of Enders demise?"
"Um, well—"
"—you can be honest."
She points to the side road and they take the turning. "Well, if I'm being truly honest, it was well-deserved. But, I'm still confused."
"Confused, how?" He asks.
"By the means of the victim's murder," She begins. "I spoke to a gentleman while you had gone to the upper deck and he briefly examined the body."
Albert raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh really? And what did the man have to say?"
"He deduced that the body had been dead from the night previous. That what Enders had done on the stage was merely out of shock as the body was, by every sense of the word, stone-cold dead." Eleanor shrugs. "It's puzzling me, but I guess I must be overthinking things."
"Overthinking?" He questions. "So, have you come to a conclusion?"
"A conclusion?"
"A conclusion to all the overthinking?"
She laughs. "Well, I conclude that a lot of prayers must have been answered and Enders was set up."
A lump forms in Albert's throat and he laughs in an attempt to clear it. "Set up? I'm even more intrigued now as to how you came to that theory."
They stop under the light of a street lamp and Eleanor holds up her hand to show five fingers. She puts one finger down.
"Firstly, the body was already dead. Yes, Enders admitted on stage to already killing the man, stating that he was 'swine' and 'filth'. But how did the body come to be? Two," She places another finger down. "The body was dead from the night before, but he must have known that when he stabbed him on the stage because of his stance while he stabbed. Three, the body lay perfectly on the stage, no signs of an attempt at struggling. As if the man was placed there by someone, on the trap door."
A smirk on Albert's lip, he crosses his arms as he watches her eyes light up in her explanation.
"Four, Enders was obviously in a panic and, in this state, wanted to ensure the job had been finished, so he stabbed again. Why he had reason to panic, I'm not sure. And finally, five, once the man and I finished our conversation, I realised that the victim's jacket was, in fact, wet with traces of sea salt. This led me to believe he'd been thrown overboard. To somehow return on the ship is rather odd, don't you agree?"
"And your conclusion is..?"
"That a third party was at play," She tells him.
Her eyes search his face. For a moment, he almost thinks that she sees right through his act of cluelessness. It's as if her eyes are searching his face for what seems like some kind of indication that he's lying and that with one look he'll fess up —that's what he's thinking for a split second.
Expression suddenly returning to its cheerfulness, Eleanor shrugs. "But that's all circumstantial."
She loops her arm back around his and continues as if nothing happened. Albert lets out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling nervous under his calm exterior.
"To be honest, I don't care how it happened, I'm just relieved a man like him got the ending he deserved."
"I couldn't agree more."
They turn another corner, up a cobbled walkway, walking alongside a building with ivy growing up the side.
"Were your parents glad to see you home from the trip?" He asks.
"An interesting question," She sighs. "My mother scolded me for being in your presence without any previous formality."
"Eleanor, I apologise—"
"Don't worry, she's fine," She continues. "My father was happy to see me home. He's been busy with work though. I know what I said the other day about my mother's wealthy upbringing, but my father built himself up before they met. He didn't have the luxury, or the conscience, to buy his way into his position. He studied and worked hard to become the man he is today and I very much admire him for that. He truly built himself from the ground up."
Albert agrees. "That's very admirable, not many can do as he's done. I find myself very fortunate to have been born into my title. Not so I can flaunt my money or reputation, but simply because of the position I've been put in. It's because of my father's name that I'm able to make a difference from a place that people will take more notice of."
"Your parents died in a fire, didn't they?"
He nods. "My brothers were all I had left. Our youngest brother Louis was adopted a few months prior, so the three of us had to rely on one another, even when another Lord and Lady took us in. I'd been in school to prepare to become the family heir, so as soon as I came of age, I took the family fortune, bought an estate and provided for my brothers."
"That's admirable, in it of itself," Eleanor smiles at him adoringly. "I'm sure your brothers appreciate that and always will."
Albert lets out a content sigh. "It's a strong bond that we share, a bond that will never be broken."
Stopping in their tracks, he sends her a confused look as she motions behind him. He follows her eyes, staring at a pane of tall glass, covered in dark green plants.
"Am I missing something?"
Releasing her grip on his arm, Eleanor bends down, sliding a loose brick from the stonework and yanking at a rope. The pane of glass shifts above her and Albert quickly reaches out a hand, Eleanor chuckling as she straightens up.
"Don't worry, that's just the secret door opening."
"Secret door?" He questions and she nods, pushing open the plant-covered glass door to reveal a nighttime botanical paradise.
"Welcome to the Barbican Conservatory at night."
The overwhelming smell of soil, sweet, fragrant flowers and refreshing water fills their senses to the brim, along with the sound of water slowly dripping.
Rows of palms line the walkway, large green leaves towering over them as they walk through the maze of plants. Pale blue petalled flowers and white flowers are planted in the soil at the base of the taller palms and in the centre of the large greenhouse is a circular pond with cream stone walls.
The bright moonlight pours through the glass ceiling, cast in the pond's calm surface as Albert peers in to see the orange and white Koi fish swimming around.
"This is amazing. How did you know about the secret door?"
She flashes him a grin. "I have my sources."
He nods to the large palms. "A Parlour Palm?"
"A Majesty Palm," She tells him, pointing up. "The leaves divide into fronds and do the best in bright light."
"And the flowers are Hyacinth and Jasmines?" He asks, Eleanor nodding in response. "I've never had the chance to visit so this is quite the experience."
Motioning for him to follow, Eleanor points to a set of metal stairs. "There's an even better way to experience it."
He follows after her, offering her a hand, placing her other on the stairway railing. Her heeled boots clang against the metal grating and the pair make their way to the top of the balcony.
Eleanor places her hands on the railing that overlooks the whole conservatory, the balcony being the same level as the top of the Palms. "It's beautiful. I can't help but say that every time I see it."
From afar, Albert smiles at her, watching as the moonlight playfully bounces off her skin, eyes bright in wonderment. He joins her at the railing, looking out at the plants. "It's an amazing sight to see."
A sigh escaping Eleanor's lips, Albert glances at her out of the corner of his eye.
"A problem shared is a problem halved." He tells her.
"Maybe this isn't what I should be doing?"
His eyes widen and he turns to look at her. "What?"
She rests her elbow on the railing, her chin in her palm. "Have you ever wished for something so much and for so long that the reality isn't what you'd hoped for?"
"Your career?"
She nods. "Part of me wonders if I'm just doing this to revolt against my mother, pursuing a career instead of the noble thing and starting a family. I've dreamt of becoming an actress for so long, hoping that the distant mother I had growing up would be proud of me, but it seems that the dream isn't what I'd hoped it would be."
Albert purses his lips, pushing his hair back. "I understand what you're saying. But not everything you dream of turns out to be a disappointment. Sometimes everything falls exactly into place like you've always wished but never quite realised."
"Well," She breathes a heavy laugh. "Maybe dreams don't always come true."
"Or maybe it's not that they don't come true, but that they evolve," He suggests. "We can't always have the same dreams as when we were children."
Eleanor sighs once more. "It's all so complicated sometimes."
"Can I speak out of turn?"
Raising her eyebrows, Eleanor stands up straight, hands on the railings as she nods at him. "Go ahead."
"You continue to surprise me, Eleanor."
"How so?" She asks.
His eyes stare into her own, searching for any kind of indication that she may be bluffing and putting on some kind of act, only to see nothing more than a genuine sense of authenticity. She's not concerning herself with being something she's not —everything she's said to him tonight has been truthful.
"You like politics, you're honest to a fault and you can handle your drink."
A laugh escapes her lips and she looks back up at him, her heart glowing.
"I feel I'm rather infatuated by you, Eleanor. I'd like to spend more time with you if you'll allow it?"
Her eyes widen and her heart skips a beat at his surprising choice of words. A hand to her chest, she opens her mouth to answer, with nothing more than a squeak coming out, and she takes a step back.
"Albert— I..."
She backs up until the heel of her shoe catches in one of the metal grates and she stumbles. His arm quickly catches her before she falls, a tight grip around her waist and his other hand under the back of her neck. Her arms grab his torso, chest breathing heavily in shock and she looks into his eyes.
Their faces are so close together they can feel each other's warm breath fanning their skin. Eleanor melts into his hold as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thank you." She mutters, her eyes scanning his plump pink lips as he smiles.
"I'll happily catch you anytime."
Tilting her head slightly, she places one of her hands on his warm cheek, gentle fingertips brushing against his wavy hair and she tentatively leans closer.
Heat radiates between them, a slight blush forming on her cheeks as he closes the gap ever so slightly more.
"Who's there?"
A faraway voice interrupts them and Eleanor's eyes widen. "Um, that might be a guard."
"I think you might be right." Albert agrees, gazing at her soft lips. "We'd better run."
She sends him a slow nod, dissatisfied with the turn of events. Pulling her upright and ensuring she's safely on her feet, he holds her hand as they hurry down the stairs and towards the door.
With a tug of the secret door, a shift of the brick, the pair are hurrying away from the conservatory and sharing a laugh at their secret almost being snuffed out by the nightguard.
"I think you're a bad influence, Eleanor. But maybe that's not a bad thing." He grins, holding her close as they walk back down the cobbled street together.
She smiles up at him as he pulls her closer and she watches as he looks around in hopes of navigating their precise location.
"I think you might be right."
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