Chapter 234: Right Here and Now Part 2
Saturday morning arrived beneath an unclouded sky, crisp with the scent of early autumn.
The platinum ring, set with a clean, brilliant diamond flanked by two smaller stones, felt like a lead weight in the left pocket of Ernest’s coat. He had spent an hour choosing it, another hour second-guessing the setting, and had returned to the jeweler twice before accepting that it was understated, elegant, and uniquely suited to Eleanor’s practical grace.
When his carriage pulled into the Valemont courtyard shortly before ten, Lord Adrian was standing near the gravel path, inspecting the estate roses with his hands behind his back.
Ernest stepped down from the carriage. "Lord Valemont."
Adrian turned, looking at Ernest with a calm, penetrating gaze. "She is pinning her hat upstairs, Ernest. Walk with me toward the orchard for a moment."
Ernest followed the older man past the high boxwood hedges until the house was shielded from view.
Adrian stopped on the path, turning to face him. "You are going to ask her today."
It was not a question.
Ernest paused, caught off guard. "Did Eleanor—"
"You are wearing the exact posture of an officer preparing to lead a cavalry charge," Adrian said with a dry, knowing smirk. "And my wife spent twenty minutes this morning acting with suspicious nonchalance. You intend to propose."
Ernest straightened his shoulders, meeting Adrian’s gaze directly. "I do."
"And did you intend to seek my permission first?"
Ernest considered the question carefully. "No, Lord Valemont. I did not."
Adrian’s eyebrows rose. "Indeed?"
"I hold you and Lady Cecilia in the highest regard," Ernest said evenly. "And I respect that Eleanor is your daughter. But Eleanor is an independent, brilliant woman of twenty-two years. The decision to share her life belongs entirely to her. I would not insult her autonomy by treating her hand as property to be transferred between men."
The silence stretched between them for several heartbeats, the leaves rustling softly overhead.
Then, a slow, deep smile broke across Adrian’s face. He extended his right hand. "If you had asked for my permission, Ernest, I would have told you precisely that."
Ernest let out a quiet breath, clasping Adrian’s hand firmly.
"You have my blessing, Ernest," Adrian said softly, his voice thick with genuine affection. "I have watched my daughter over these past months. She argues with more passion, she laughs without restraint, and she looks toward the future again. Take care of her."
"I will," Ernest promised.
"And allow her to take care of you," Adrian added, clapping him on the shoulder. "You are a formidable builder, Baron Teucher, but you are terrible at tending to your own hearth."
"I am learning," Ernest smiled.
When they returned to the drive, Eleanor was descending the portico steps. She wore a tailored traveling coat of dark sapphire wool over a simple day dress, her chestnut hair gathered neatly beneath a small velvet hat.
She looked at Ernest, her gray eyes lighting up with that immediate, private warmth that made his entire world tilt on its axis.
"Good morning, Baron," she said, taking his offered hand as she boarded the carriage. "Are you going to tell me where we are traveling today?"
"To the railway," Ernest replied, climbing in beside her.
"Willowbrook again?"
"Perhaps."
Eleanor leaned close, her shoulder brushing his as the horses moved. "You are completely incapable of keeping a secret, Ernest."
"I kept the destination confidential for eight full minutes," he defended himself.
She laughed, lacing her fingers through his. "A triumph of corporate discretion."
Belfast No. 1 brought them to the quiet valley of Willowbrook just as the midday sun reached its zenith.
They saddled the two horses waiting at the platform, riding up through the gold-and-crimson beech woods until they broke out onto the high ridge overlooking the river.
The valley below was bathed in warm, amber light. The great oak tree stood proudly against the sky, sheltering the wool blanket and the picnic hamper that had been prepared for them. Far below, the river wound like a bright silver ribbon through the pastures, spanned by the massive steel-and-granite railway viaduct Ernest had built years before.
They ate lunch at an unhurried pace, talking of the hospital, the estate harvest, and the absurd adventure novel Ernest had finally finished reading.
"The protagonist survived the firedamp explosion through sheer authorial convenience," Ernest complained, resting against the roots of the oak. "It was an affront to chemical science."
"He was rescuing his companion, Ernest," Eleanor laughed, leaning her head comfortably against his shoulder. "Not every narrative requires a ventilation shaft."
The afternoon drifted on, peaceful and golden.
Yet as the shadows began to stretch across the grass, Eleanor sat up, turning her keen gaze upon him. "You have touched the left pocket of your coat sixteen times since we dismounted."
Ernest froze, his hand hovering near his lapel. "I was verifying my pocket watch."
"Your watch chain is pinned to your waistcoat, Ernest." She tilted her head, her gray eyes dancing with intense amusement. "And you have checked the alignment of that railway bridge four separate times without uttering a single technical complaint."
Ernest looked down at her, feeling his carefully planned words begin to scatter like dry leaves in the wind.
"Come with me," he said, rising and extending his hand.
"Down to the river?"
"Down to the bridge," Ernest corrected softly.
She looked at him, sensing the sudden, deep shift in the air, and placed her hand in his.
They walked down the winding footpath through the autumn trees until they reached the stone riverbank beneath the soaring central piers of the viaduct. Above them, the dark steel girders reached across the gorge, massive and immovable, holding the high track against the sky. The river rushed clear and cold over the limestone shelf at their feet.
Eleanor looked up at the towering structure, then back at Ernest. "Why did you bring me down here, beneath the spans?"
Ernest turned to face her, taking both of her hands in his.
"The first time we came to Willowbrook," Ernest said, his voice quiet and steady against the murmur of the water, "I told you that when Belfast Number One crossed this gorge for the first time, I was terrified."
Eleanor watched him, her breath catching.
"I had calculated the tensile strength, the foundation settlement, and the wind shear down to the smallest decimal," Ernest continued. "Every formula indicated the bridge would hold. But standing there watching fifteen tons of steel roll out over the drop... I realized that calculations only take you so far. Eventually, the engineering ends, and you simply have to trust what you have built."
He reached into his coat pocket, his fingers closing around the velvet box.
"I spent the last five days attempting to calculate this moment," Ernest said softly, pulling the box into the light. "I had a three-page itinerary. I had six different speeches prepared. I had a schedule that said I was supposed to ask you beneath the oak at three o’clock."
Eleanor pressed both hands to her mouth, a breathless, tearful laugh escaping her lips as tears pooled in her eyes. "Oh, Ernest..."
Ernest opened the velvet box. The diamond caught the afternoon light, gleaming brilliantly against the dark velvet.
"None of the speeches matter," Ernest whispered, stepping close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath. "Because you cannot calculate love, Eleanor. I don’t know what the next thirty years will bring. I don’t know if we will live at Oriel, or how many battles we will fight against the council, or how often you will have to drag me away from the drawing boards."
He looked straight into her luminous gray eyes, his voice trembling with fierce, unshakeable devotion.
"I don’t want an alliance, and I don’t want a quiet life," Ernest said. "I want you. I want your sharp mind, your laughter, your courage, and your dreams. I want to build a home where you never have to stop being Eleanor Valemont to be my wife."
Ernest lowered himself onto one knee on the river stones, holding the ring up between them.
The great iron bridge stood above them, an enduring monument of steel and stone, but in that quiet river gorge, the entire world narrowed to a single question.
"Eleanor Valemont," Ernest said, his heart laid completely bare. "Will you marry me?"
Eleanor stared down at him, tears spilling over her lashes, her hand pressed against her heart.
She didn’t hesitate.
"Yes," Eleanor whispered, dropping to her knees on the stones before him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes, Ernest! A thousand times, yes!"
Ernest pulled her tight against his chest, lifting her off the ground as her tears soaked into his collar, feeling a joy so profound and total that every empire and machine he had ever built paled into absolute insignificance.
He slipped the platinum ring onto her finger, where it caught the sun, fitting as though it had been forged for her hand since the dawn of time.
Eleanor pulled back, laughing through her tears as she framed his face with her hands, kissing him with all the fierce, unreserved love in her soul.
"No more schedules?" she whispered against his lips.
"No more schedules," Ernest smiled, resting his forehead against hers. "Just you and me."
And above them, high on the mountain line, the whistle of an oncoming train blew long and clear across the valley, signaling the start of a journey that would last a lifetime.