Chapter 5: Eleanor's Gambit
The grandfather clock struck midnight as Arthur walked into the grand library, where Eleanor was waiting for him. She had poured herself a crystal glass of amber brandy, her dark red sequin gown catching the flickering light of the fireplace. Despite the late hour, she held her chin high, though the slight tremor in her hand gave away her internal anxiety.
"Arthur," she said, her voice dripping with artificial warmth. "We need to talk about Clara. The girl is clearly unstable. Running down the stairs like that, making a scene... she is trying to manipulate you."
Arthur did not sit down. He stood near the door, his posture imposing, his dark blue suit making him look like a shadow in the dimly lit room. "Manipulate me, Eleanor? Or did she simply fear for her life after you shoved her?"
Eleanor laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Shoved her? Don't be ridiculous. I was merely trying to show her that she doesn't belong here. She is a commoner, Arthur. Julian made a mistake marrying her, and now she wants to use his memory to drain this family's assets. I was holding Cynthia's dress, and she attacked me for it. She tripped on her own lace gown."
"And the cyanide, Eleanor?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the room like a blade.
Eleanor froze, the glass of brandy hovering near her lips. Her blonde hair seemed to lose its luster under her sudden, paralyzing fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"A vial was found near your chambers," Arthur said, taking a step forward. "A vial containing traces of poison. Do you take me for a fool? You wanted Clara gone before she could give birth. You wanted Marcus to be the sole heir to the Vance empire."
Eleanor set her glass down with a heavy clink. "You have no proof of any of this. A discarded vial means nothing. If you try to drag my name through the mud, Arthur, I will drag Clara's with me. I will tell the board that she is mentally unfit, that she is suffering from postpartum psychosis before the baby is even born. I have lawyers, Arthur. Powerful ones."
"You think your lawyers can save you from me?" Arthur said, his eyes burning with cold fury. "You have underestimated my love for my son, and my duty to his child. You are a guest in my house, Eleanor. A guest who has overstayed her welcome. From this moment on, you are confined to the west wing. If I see you near Clara, or if I hear a single rumor about her health in the press, I will personally ruin you."
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Eleanor glared at him, her beautiful face distorted by anger. "This isn't over, Arthur."
"It was over the moment you touched her," Arthur replied quietly, turning his back on her as he walked out, leaving her alone with her empty threats and her bitter brandy.
