A Pansy for Eleanor, part 5

Aboard the Transcontinental Railway, Omaha, Nebraska

Dec. 1876

The next morning went smoothly. The tracks had been cleared ahead, and they boarded and were on their way as the sun crested the horizon. The rhythmic chug of the locomotive and the occasional lurch of the train car normally unsettled Eleanor.

Instead, the motion of the steam engine, steadily carrying them across a continent, filled her with an unfamiliar sense of calm. Freedom. But she was glad they were leaving Omaha—further distance between her and Lord Rutledge.

She sat in the plush, high-backed seat of the first-class passenger car, the golden locket Henry had given her resting against the delicate lace of her traveling gown. The compartment was warm, the brass fixtures gleaming in the lamplight, in sharp contrast to the frozen land they were crossing.

Victorian rail car

Across from her, Henry sat with his long legs stretched out, one ankle casually crossed over the other. He looked at ease, but Eleanor knew better. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest—a sign of nerves.

"Stop that," she said softly.

His lips twitched as he stilled his hand. "Forgive me. It's not every day a man spirits away a duke’s betrothed and flees for the American frontier. I just want us to get there so we can disappear from Lord Rutledge.”

“Do you think he will send a man after me?”

“I can guarantee he will. Men like him don't like to lose their possessions.” He frowned.

Eleanor sighed, glancing out the window. The English countryside, so green and lush, was replaced by the raw, untamed beauty of the American landscape. They had left Omaha behind, and with each passing mile, the cities and comforts of the world they once knew grew more distant.

She had written no farewell to her parents. The scandal of her departure would undoubtedly ripple through London’s society for years to come, but she found she did not care. Her only regret was that her younger sister, Margaret, would be left to weather the worst of the gossip alone. But she had made her choice. And now, there was no turning back. Her name would be ruined, and if they did return, they would be shunned.

"Tell me about Thistle Creek," she said at last, turning her gaze back to Henry. "What sort of place are we bound for?"

He hesitated before answering. "A mining town," he said finally. "Not as lawless as some, but not the civility of London either." He met her eyes. "It will be a change, Eleanor. A difficult one."

"I am not afraid of difficulty." She felt the locket around her neck.

A flicker of amusement danced across his face. "No. I do not suppose you are."

She folded her hands in her lap. "What will you do there?"

Henry sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair. "My uncle owns a small mercantile in town. He’s offered me a place in the business, though I don’t expect him to be overly generous about it. He thinks I’m a fool, abandoning the opportunities I had in England."

"And do you think he’s right?"

Henry’s gaze was steady. "No. I think the only thing that would have made me a fool was letting you marry a man who would never love you."

Eleanor flushed, and for a moment, the clatter of the train tracks was the only sound between them. She reached for his hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and steady.

"Tell me something else," she murmured.

He arched a brow. "About Thistle Creek?"

"About us."

He smiled, slow and knowing. "We will build something there, Eleanor. It may not be the life we imagined, but it will be ours. No arranged marriages, no titles. Just the two of us, and whatever future we carve out of that town."

She exhaled, tension bleeding from her shoulders. "That sounds like a rather grand adventure."

His thumb brushed against the back of her hand. "Then let’s be adventurers, my love."

***

Arrival in Colorado Territory

Two Days Later

The train jerked as it pulled into the station at Thistle Creek, steam billowing from the iron engine. Outside, the town was bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon. A row of wooden buildings lined the dusty main street, and beyond them, the towering peaks of the Rockies stood like silent sentinels.

Cowboys sauntered past on the boardwalk across the street, and a teacher was saying goodbye to her students. Weary travelers disembarked around them, and the hustle and bustle gave Eleanor hope for this desolate town.

Eleanor clutched the folds of her cloak as she stepped onto the platform. The air was crisper here, untouched by the heavy smoke and grime of London.

Henry jumped down beside her, extending his hand. She took it without hesitation.

"Welcome home, Eleanor," he murmured.

She lifted her chin, taking in the rugged beauty of her new world. It was nothing like the drawing rooms of Mayfair or the manicured gardens of her childhood.

With Henry by her side, Eleanor Ashcombe stepped into the unknown.

Come back next Thursday to see how Eleanor and Henry settle into Thistle Creek.