The coach rumbles along, its wheels squealing in protest every now and then due to the combined weight of Tristan, Mother and I.
It is late afternoon - the day after the ball - and Mother has brought me home with her. She gave Lady Elizabeth the excuse of 'preparing me for the wondrous journey ahead'. Lady Elizabeth did not seem convinced, but she did not have much say in the matter. Emmanuel had protested against Tristan accompanying Mother and I, but a murderous glare from Lady Elizabeth silenced him abruptly. Now, I am sitting in a coach, being rocked from side to side as we return to the home that houses all of my memories, my thoughts and innermost emotions. I am returning to the home that I have sorely missed.
I look across at Mother, who meets my gaze and sends me an apologetic smile. I shoot one of my own smiles in her direction and then resume looking out of the window at the increasingly familiar sights. We have been doing this for the whole journey, Mother and I. I would look at her, she would smile in an apology and I would reassure her with a small smile in return. Some people might call me stupid and naïve for trusting Mother so easily, but she is my mother. I will trust her no matter what she does. The simple fact that she is my mother earns her my forgiveness. Perhaps she will betray me again. Perhaps she will sell me out to the Colletons' once more. At least then I know it will be my fault. At least I will not blame somebody else, because it will be me who brought this upon myself by trusting her.
I can only hope that trusting Mother will bear it's fruits in the end.
I peer out of the window and feel my breath catch. There is my house, a mere building rising above the trees. A blinding smile graces my face as I turn back to my mother and Tristan.
"We're here! We're home!" I say, clapping my hands in glee. I even jump in my seat but the coach sways threateningly so I quickly stop.
Mother smiles at me. "Does it feel good to be home?"
"It feels amazing. I never thought I'd see my home again." I say, leaning my whole upper body out of the window as we approach the house.
"I'M HOME!!" I yell to the stone building and immediately, the door opens. Peter runs out, his eyes shining. Mary stands beside him, a hand pressed to her smiling mouth as she gazes up at me. As the coach stops, I shove past Mother and Tristan to jump out of the coach.
Stumbling, I dash around the coach and leap into the waiting arms of Peter and Mary.
I let go of Mary so I can embrace Peter tightly. "How have you been, Peter?!"
"I'm good now you've returned." He says and then cranes his head to look at the coach. "Where is Chastity? I was told you'd bring her with you."
I glance at Mary, my cheerful mood quickly dissipating. I look into Peter's deep eyes. "Um, Peter, I... Chastity, she's..."
Understanding dawns on him and a single tear falls down Peter's face. "She's not coming back, is she?"
I shake my head, unable to meet Peter's sorrowful gaze.
Peter inhales sharply. "I'm glad you're here, Eloise. Welcome home." Then he turns and retreats into the house.
I glance at Mary, my gaze coloured with shame.
Mary puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Give him some time. He loved that horse just as much as you did."
I nod, trying to smile again. Mother approaches us and she steers me towards the house.
"Come on, you must be so tired!" She coos, throwing the doors wide open -
- into chaos.
There are dozens of people swarming around, lugging objects and dresses and boxes with them. The air is full of grunts and deep voices commanding others, the smell of manual labour is high and every so often, something is dropped, often onto other people's poor toes.
I look at Mother, who does not seem fazed by all of this at all. "Mother, what is happening here?"
Mother dives into the swarm of people, dragging me with her. "Preparations, honey."
"Preparations?" I yell over the noise. "Preparations for what?"
We emerge into the parlour, which is thankfully empty. I take a deep breath, relaxing when I see the familiar room. I sit in the chair I always sit in, wishing for it to just hold me and never let go, wishing I could be submerged into it's soft depths.
"Preparations for your departure, dear." Mother says, settling in her chair opposite me.
"My departure?" I repeat, astonished. Could it be? Is Mother returning me... Was it all just a lie? "I just got here, Mother."
"I know." Mother states calmly. "It is all part of my plan. Now, hurry, dear. I need you to write this letter for me."
Mother pushes a leaf of paper and a quill pen into my hands.
I stare at her in bewilderment. "Mother, a letter? To whom? I do not understand what is...."
"Eloise. Darling, I know I have wonged you." Mother confesses. "Please, trust me with this. I will not commit another sin against you. Trust me."
Cautiously, I nod.
"Okay. Just write what I say, nothing more, nothing less." Mother orders.
Half an hour, many hand cramps and dozens of crumpled papers later, I look down at the finished product with pride.
Dear Mother,
I cannot do what you all expect of me. I cannot provide the Colleton family with a heir. How can I be with a man whose face I despise? How can you ask this of me? I love Damon; everybody knows this. This whole marriage, this sham, it has been torture for me and I refuse to be a part of it any longer.
So I am leaving.
I have run away with Damon. He has returned and we will lead a happy life together. I wish that things did not turn out like this, but I cannot give Emmanuel what he wants. Especially, now that he murdered my poor Chastity in such cold blood. She meant everything to me and he killed her out of pure, unbridled jealousy.
And you expect me to lay down with such a man and produce a life with him? No, you ask too much. I will not do this, no matter how many times I am caught and brought back to the Colletons. I will never give them what they want.
I will never give you what you want, Mother.
I hate you.
From Eloise.
"Is it not too hateful?" I ask, looking up at Mother.
"It is good." Mother replies, taking the paper from me. "Hateful is exactly what we need. We need for the Colleton family to believe that you are at the end of your tether. We need them to believe that I did not help you in any way and that you despise me as much as you despise Emmanuel and Lady Elizabeth."
I nod, exhaling loudly.
Mother smiles sadly. "It may seem excessive right now, but honey, it is very necessary. This is the only way you have a chance at a future and leaving the inmates of this house secure at the same time."
I sigh. "Mother, what exactly is the plan?"
"The less you know, the safer you will be."
I smile, my thoughts straying from the matter at hand. "That's what Damon said to me too."
Mother winks conspiratorially. "We are more alike than you assume us to be, Eloise."
Mary strides into the parlour. "Tea has been prepared. Would you care to enter the dining room, please?"
"Wonderful!" Mother claps her hands, beaming.
All through tea, my thoughts continuously return to Damon. I wonder where he is? What is he doing? Is he thinking of me? Is he keeping well or is he dismissive towards his health? I very much hope that he takes care of himself. If I find he has not tended to his health well, I intend to punish him severely when I see him. I mean, I will be seeing him soon. What use would all these preparations be if it was not Mother's intent to reunite me with Damon soon?
It turns out, we have ate tea rather late. Mother is tired and wishes to return to her chambers soon after the sun shoots out its final rays of the day.
Before that, however, Tristan is sent away on horseback. Mother does not tell me why, she merely disregards my questions with a wave of her gloved hand and the noncommital promise of 'he will be back in the morning'. Despite only having known Tristan for no less than forty-eight hours, I feel bereaved now he has left. His presence was comforting. Not to mention, he had the most amazing French accent. I did not even have the ability to imitate it accurately and believe me, I had attempted it on the journey home. Tristan and Mother had simply guffawed with laughter in response so I had huffed and given up. Only a chosen few can be handsome French people and I am evidently not one of them.
Mary leads me up to my chambers and I am delighted to see that it is exactly how I left it, albeit with freshly polished furniture.
I squeal and dash over to my bed, jumping up and down on it excitably, my face painted with glee. Then, I flop down on my stomach, laying spread-eagled, hugging the bed tightly.
"My bed! My lovely, comfortable bed! Oh, do not judge me so! Let this promiscuous wench have one more night with you!"
I hear Mary chuckle and then I am dragged from the love that only my bed holds for me.
"Come on, Miss Eloise." Mary says. "Let's get you ready for bed."
I cross my arms over my chest. "No, Mary! I am much too excited for bed. Let me tell you of some of my adventures in these past six months."
I spend the next few hours telling Mary of how I used my creativity to frustrate Emmanuel to no end, how I found solace in batting Lady Elizabeth's taunts back in her face, how I drew on Richard's horse with chalk just for the simple purpose of infuriating him, how I slouched and burped at balls just to mortify Lady Elizabeth and most of all, how I lorded my purity over Emmanuel's head.
Mary had been chuckling so much by the end of my stories that there were tears in her eyes.
"Alright, my dear child. You must sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day so you must be fully rested in order to welcome it."
Mary leaves once she has tucked me into my familiar bed.
It is clear quite quickly that sleep will elude me tonight. My thoughts run rampant, despite my eyelids lying heavily on my eyes. My mind keeps running away, caressing the memories of a certain Damon, prodding at the mystery of what the morning will bring with it. Hope or defeat? Redemption or surrender? Love or capture?
The notion of this alone has me jolting up from the bed and pacing the darkened room in a state of restless anguish. It is almost as though the night is teasing me, stretching its inky skies to a curfew that is not permitted nor deserved.
I pull at my hair in frustration and walk over to the window, looking out into the garden below.
The last time I was here, in this room, Damon had embraced me, he had held me in his arms, danced with me, talked to me. We had said what we thought to be a temporary goodbye. I was not supposed to be in this situation, with tension shrouding my every move, with Emmanuel becoming the torturer to my existence, with Damon absent for months on end.
I can only hope that Damon comes soon; I am tired of submitting to Emmanuel, I am tired of being taunted, I am tired of being betrayed, I am tired of feeling numb, I am tired of everything. Life itself has begun to tire me. I do not know long I can stay without Damon any more.
I need him.
Pulling a chair over to the window and settling in it, I do not realise when I finally fall asleep...
"Madame? Madame Eloise? Réveillez-vous, Madame!" An unmistakeable French accent says.
I shift a little, grumble but make no move to awaken.
The French accent persists, shaking me, stringing a few words of French into his muddled English.
I sigh and sit up in bed, my eyes still glued shut with wordless dreams and colour filled darkness that only a deep slumber brings.
I slowly open my eyes to a dazzlingly bright room; the curtains have been opened to allow the sharp rays of sunlight to slice into the room, cutting through my sleep.
I rub my eyes and then he comes into focus.
Tristan. He has returned.
I leap from my bed and stride over to him, squeezing his cheeks in greeting. "You've come back! When did you arrive, Tristan?"
"Erm, il ya une heure. Not long ago, Madame. Your mother instructed me to wake you." Tristan says, walking away from me to the door. "Mary has errands to run, so your mother has ordered for you to dress yourself. Est-ce que ça va? Will that be okay, Madame?"
I nod, smiling. "Of course. Must I join Mother for breakfast?"
Tristan hesitates before answering. "Elle aimerait ça. Your mother would prefer it that way, yes. However, do you wish for me to make separate arrangements, Madame?"
"No, Tristan. I will enjoy having breakfast with Mother. I have not seen her for six months, this will be good for us."
Tristan nods in response and smoothly leaves the room.
I stride calmly into the restroom, washing myself with the lavender scented water that is daily replaced by Mary.
She must have done it before leaving.
I wrap my robe around myself and go over to my dresser.
I have the strangest urge to dress up today, goodness knows why. Going along with my urge, I take out a midnight blue gown. It is plain, apart from a thin band of crystals lining my waist, just above where the skirt flows downwards freely. After tightening my corset, I spill myself into the gown and then take a seat before the mirror. Using a clip, I pin half of my hair up and let the other half ripple down my back.
When I am satisfied, I leave my room and head to the dining room.
Mother is already seated, waiting patiently with Tristan sitting off to one side.
As I enter, Mother smiles and greets me. "Good morning, Eloise. Did you sleep well?"
"At first, it was a little difficult to sleep but eventually, my slumber ceased eluding me and I fell into a deep sleep." I reply truthfully.
Mother nods in understanding and then calls in the direction of the kitchen, "Chef! Eloise is awake! Please serve breakfast!"
The kitchen door opens and an extremely flustered Chef stumbles in, carrying dishes of steaming hot crab cakes.
I rub my hands in gleeful anticipation, suddenly feeling ravenous. As soon as my plate is lowered before me, I tuck in, ignoring the scalding heat on my tongue.
Mother just chuckles at my eagerness, which bemuses me for a moment. Normally, Mother would have scolded me for eating like a scrounger and demonstrated how a real lady should consume her food.
Tristan just glances at me, amused and nibbles at his share of crab cakes.
I focus on devouring the rest of my crab cakes, savouring the taste of the food running down my throat and lining my stomach. It feels good to eat in peace; without taunts and insults flying my way, without at least one person making a fuss, without noise and chattering. There is just quietness and the scraping of cutlery against plates as we all relish a good breakfast. My Father always said a good breakfast was a good start to the day.
I smile slightly into my empty plate, then push it back a little.
Tristan stands up and hovers over me. "Terminé? Are you finished with your breakfast, Madame?"
"Yes, thank you, Tristan." I say and then stop him as he begins to pick my plate up. "No, Tristan! This is not your job. The maid will be here soon. You put this down, please!"
"Non, non, ça va." Tristan mutters as he lifts it and takes it away. "Toujours m'arrêter ... Je peux faire un peu de travail ..."
I shake my head after him as Mother turns to me, bemused.
"Do you know what he was saying?" Mother asks.
I just laugh. "No, Mother. He was speaking French. It's one of the most beautiful languages, Mother, don't you think?"
Mother nods softly. "It is. When you were younger, around six, you met a Frenchwoman. She was the wife of one of.... your father's friends. Erm, you took an immediate liking to her and pretended to be French the whole day! Damon laughed and teased you, but you were intent on being French. You've always had a weakness for French people since then."
"Really?" I gape. "That is where my love of everything French originated from?"
Mother nods, beaming.
I chuckle to myself, my mind reflecting how peaceful and stress-free this morning has been, unlike any morning in the past six months. It feels as though I have been here for weeks; I could really become accustomed to this. Maybe I was wrong about Mother. Maybe she really does love me. Maybe I misinterpreted her for most of my life. Maybe there will be something good that will come out of this retreat.
I sigh inwardly, fighting off that familiar desolate feeling that threatens to swallow me whole.
The door opens and Peter walks in, talking to himself.
"Yes, and then I felt extremely bad because she was not to blame...."
Wait.
He was not talking to himself.
Behind him.....
Damon walks in.
I shoot to my feet, my eyes widening, my mouth forming an astonished 'O'.
Damon?