The words sounded harsh, but Emma’s voice lent them a softness that left only truth.

Truth.

Elinor did believe him. She did forgive him. She did love him.

And she needed to tell him. Now. Before all truly was ruined.

She was out of her chair in a moment. “I need to go, Em,” she told her sister in a rush as she moved to the door.

“I thought you might,” came the amused reply.

Elinor smiled to herself as she dashed down the corridor and down the stairs, knowing there was at least one other person who would be awake, and able to help her now. She had ordered Hugh to leave as soon as possible, and she had to know if any preparations had been made.

She hurried towards the study and exhaled in relief when the door was propped open, light within shining through the crack.

She knocked softly, but firmly, on the door.

“Come,” her father’s jolly voice called, missing the booming aspect it normally carried.

Elinor wouldn’t think anything of that. It was, after all, still early in the morning, only just after sunrise.

She pushed the door open. “Papa?”

Her father was fairly casually dressed, sitting not behind his desk, but in his large and comfortable chair, a large book open in his lap. He smiled warmly as she entered.

“Elinor, my sweet. A merry Christmas to you, darling.”

Elinor curtseyed in a fond show of deference. “Merry Christmas to you as well, Papa.” Impulsively, she came over to him and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek.

In response, he patted her cheek and gave her a wink, the smell of pipe tobacco wafting into her senses. “You are up deuced early, my pet. It’s long since you have been so eager for Christmas morning.”

She blushed a little. “Not so, I always love Christmas, as you know.”

He hummed in satisfaction. “Yes, I know. How is your head, dove? Better than last evening?”

“Much,” she replied. “Perhaps excessive rest last evening left me eager to begin the day earlier than normal.”

Her father nodded his agreement with the suggestion. “True enough, true enough.”

The small talk was only heightening her anxieties, and she could not wait a moment longer. “Papa, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, pet.”

She nodded once. “Have any preparations been made for the departure of our guests? It’s just… I would hate for any of them to miss Christmas.”

It was a weak excuse, but her father did not seem to notice. His expression soured and he nodded, causing her heart to sink. “Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Sterling is leaving momentarily. He’s just taken his leave of me, come to think. Graciousness itself, he was, but said he must make his way to his own family.” He shook his head, suddenly appearing almost grumpy. “Wouldn’t even stay for Christmas breakfast.”