“Mark my words, I’m a wealthy man now, and it’s time we part ways,” declared the husband with a haughty sneer, blind to the storm he was stirring.
“You cant fathom how your plainness grates on me,” snapped Edward, his eyes sharp with contempt. “Ive no need for a dull little thingI deserve better!”
“Do you truly believe coin makes you superior?” murmured Eleanor, her voice thick with sorrow as she fought back tears.
The soft glow of dusk warmed the cottage kitchen where Eleanor prepared supper. The air was rich with the scent of roasted beef and freshly baked bread.
Edward burst through the door, brandishing a letter, his grin stretching ear to ear.
“Ellie! Ellie! Youll never guess!” he cried, still in his boots. “Ive had word of an inheritancesome forgotten uncle! Were rich!”
Eleanor turned, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron.
“How wonderful, Ned,” she replied evenly. “But who was this relation? We knew of no one”
“Who cares?” Edward laughed, sweeping her into an embrace. “Now we want for nothing!”
Eleanor arched a brow but scarcely had time to speak before Edward launched into grand schemes, arms waving as he dreamed of carriages and fine estates.
Yet by morning, after a sleepless night of imagining his fortune, Edward was a man transformed.
He regarded Eleanor with scorn, barking orders as though she were a servant. Every word dripped with pride over his newfound wealth, as if hed been knighted rather than merely enriched.
“Listen, Ellie,” he said over breakfast, not sparing her a glance, “now that Im a man of means, we ought to reconsider our arrangement.”
Eleanor stiffened, staring in disbelief.
“What do you mean?” she whispered, her throat tight.
“Well, its plain, isnt it?” He took a bite of toast. “Ive risen above all this. And youyoure just too ordinary.”
Eleanor reeled as though struck. She hurried to meet her dearest friends, Margaret and Beatrice, at the village pub.
“Girls, you wont credit it,” she blurted the moment they sat. “Edwards come into money and now deems me beneath him!”
Margaret scoffed. “The devil he has! Whos this phantom uncle?”
Beatrice frowned, leaning in. “What will you do?”
“I dont know,” Eleanor sighed. “Hes become insufferable!”
Margaret shook her head. “Ellie, are you certain its not some mistake? Perhaps hes lost his wits?”
“I dont know,” Eleanor repeated. “This isnt the man I wed.”
Beatrices brow furrowed deeper in thought.
The evening ended thus. Eleanor returned home to find Edward poring over catalogues of fine horses. Dread settled in her chest, but the steadfastness of her friends kept her afloat.
Days passed, and Edward grew worse. Though the inheritance had yet to materialise, he strutted like a lord, treating Eleanor with cold disdain.
“Ellie, wheres my coat?” he bellowed one morn. “Ive urgent business!”
She fetched it silently, draping it over the bedpost.
“Edward, might we talk?” she ventured softly.
“Not now,” he dismissed. “Ive no time for trifles.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She couldnt fathom why the man she loved had become this cold stranger. That evening, she sought her friends again.
At their usual corner table, over steaming tea, Eleanor unburdened herself. “I cant endure this, girls. He speaks to me as though Im dirt beneath his boots.”
Margaret set her cup down sharply. “The blackguard! Ellie, you must stand your ground. He hasnt a penny yet and already acts the tyrant!”
Beatrice squeezed her hand. “Were with you, dear. All will be well.”
Days wore on, and Edwards cruelty knew no bounds. He sneered that she was grasping, waiting to profit from his fortune.
“You see, Ellie, Im a different man now,” he said one night. “Youve always been a simple creature, but now I see your gameyou covet my wealth.”
Eleanor gaped at him, wounded to her core.
“Edward, how can you say such things? All these years, Ive stood by you!”
“Aye, stood by,” he jeered. “Now the truths plainyou care only for coin.”
Her heart shattered. That night, she resolved to endure no more.
The next day, Margaret and Beatrice met her with grave faces.
“Ellie,” Margaret began, “weve a confession.”
Beatrice nodded. “Forgive us. We meant it as a jest, but its gone too far.”
Eleanor paled. “What do you mean?”
Margaret sighed. “The inheritance letterit was false. We devised it to show you Edwards true nature.”
Eleanor sat frozen. “You lied?”
Beatrice clasped her hand. “We saw how he mistreated you. We wished you to see the man hed become with wealth. And hes proved himself vile.”
Eleanors tears fell freelyanger, betrayal, relief all warring within.
“How could you?” she choked.
Margaret looked rueful. “We thought it would reveal the truth. We never dreamed hed be so cruel.”
Long silence followed. At last, Eleanor spoke.
“I dont know if I forgive you. But now I see Edward for what he is. And I see you, too.”
When Edward returned, he found Eleanor waiting, steel in her gaze.
“Edward,” she said coolly, “I know the letter was a sham. My friends orchestrated it to show me your character.”
He blanched, then flushed with rage.
“Preposterous! You take their word over mine? They envy us!”
Eleanor stood tall. “No. They helped me see the truth. Youve shown your heartand its rotten. Youre no husband of mine.”
Spluttering, Edward stormed out, chest heaving with fury. As the door slammed, Eleanor weptbut with the strange peace of a burden lifted.
Margaret and Beatrice arrived soon after, finding her drained but resolute.
“Ellie, are you well?” Margaret asked gently.
“It was hard,” Eleanor admitted. “But necessary.”
Beatrice hesitated. “Theres more. We confessed the false letter, but not why we did it. Shall I explain?”
Eleanor nodded warily.
Margaret took a breath. “Three weeks past, a London solicitor sought me out. Hed tried to reach youbut your ledgers are locked tight. He left his card, saying youve a true inheritance awaiting.”
Eleanor stared. “A real fortune? From whom?”
Beatrice nodded. “We tested Edward before telling you, lest the money ruin your marriage. We had to know if hed stay true.”
Eleanor swayed between disbelief and dawning understanding.
“So… this was for my sake?”
Margaret nodded. “Aye. And Edward failed.”
Tears of gratitude spilled forth as Eleanor embraced them. That evening, she rang the solicitor.
Minutes later, her face glowed. “Its true. The inheritance is realand vast.”
Margaret whooped. “Ellie, youre rich!”
“And free of that wretch,” Beatrice added.
Glasses of sherry were raised in toast.
“To new beginnings,” declared Margaret.
“To loyal friends,” said Beatrice.
Eleanor smiled through tears. “To you both. My thanks.”
They drank, laughter weaving through the cottage. Ahead lay uncertaintybut with fortune and true friends, Eleanor was ready.
