As I enter the house, still carrying the bag of ingredients from syllabub, Eloise pushes Ella in the direction of the kitchen and then dashes up the stairs. I approach the door of the kitchen, looking up the stairs, watching her disappear around the corner.

Is she okay? The words of that old lady at the market were so brazen and bold. Is it possible that hearing that affected Eloise? Maybe it upset her to hear the possibility of my marriage to someone else. Maybe she was hurt to hear me say that I do not have a wife. Was I imagining it when I saw tears in her eyes at the market?

Hope swells in my chest. Maybe there is a chance. Perhaps she still cares for me. Of their own accord, my feet turn to the stairs. I rest my hand on the banister. I want to go and see if she is okay. I want to be the one to comfort her and hold her. It has been so long since I have felt her little frame leaning on me. My foot raises and takes one step.

I can hear a sound. A whimpering, as though someone is crying. Is Eloise crying? My heart drops into my boots at the sound. My feet are carrying me up the stairs of their own accord. The whimpering is growing in volume. I want to run up the steps as fast as I can, but I know I cannot alarm Mary and Ella. Slowly, I reach the top of the stairs and I can clearly hear crying and gasping.

It is Eloise, I can tell straight away. I must help her. Why is she so upset? She is marred to Emmanuel, why would it bother her that an old lady offered to present her daughter to me?

As I step onto the landing, a hand clasps mine.

I turn around to see Ella standing behind me, her blue eyes shining up at me.

"Is something the matter, Ella?" I ask, bending down to her level, still painfully conscious of the sound of Eloise's cries.

"Mamma Mary needs you downstairs." Ella says.

I peer behind me at the closed bedroom door. Behind that door is Eloise and she needs me right now. I must go to her.

"Ella, tell Mamma Mary I shall be there in a –"

"She said you must go right away. It is urgent." Ella relays.

I groan in frustration, running a hand through my hair. Throwing a final glance to the bedroom door, I turn to Ella and take both of her miniscule, fragile hands in mine.

"Ella, listen to me. This is very important."

Ella nods earnestly in response.

"Your mummy is in her bedroom and I think she is upset about something. Can you please see to her?"

Ella nods again, "It's okay, Mister Damon. Sometimes, Mummy just cries at night time. I will help her."

Eloise cries at night? Why? Is it to do with Emmanuel? There are too many questions swirling around my mind. I let out a shaky sigh and stand up, going back down the stairs even though all I want to do is rush into that room and wrap my arms around Eloise. I want to find out what upset her and protect her from anything bad happening ever again.

It is not your place anymore. The rational part of my mind reminds me. It is Emmanuel's and you know it.

Gritting my teeth and gripping the banister until my knuckles turn white, I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Mary turns as I enter and smiles. "Damon, just the person I needed. If I remember correctly, your business is to do with breweries?"

"Yes, Mary, why?"

"Well, I am trying to do too many things at once. I have the currant pie to make and the syllabub too. I would never ask you to do my work, but please could you sit at the table and just instruct me on how to make the syllabub?"

"Of course."

This is the urgent thing she needed me for?

Fighting the urge to groan in frustration and run back up the stairs to Eloise, I plant myself in a nearby chair and begin telling Mary how to prepare the drink. It is something I have made many times myself, so the instructions roll off my tongue and my mind remains stuck on Eloise. I hope she is okay. I hope Ella has managed to calm her. I wonder if something other than the old lady at the market has upset her. Could it be Emmanuel? Has he sent some sort of letter?

My eyes scan the kitchen, but I do not see any post. When we were married, Eloise would always leave the letters in the kitchen. If it is not Emmanuel, what else could it be? What is it that has upset her to such a degree? Once more, the possibility of Eloise being upset about the old woman's words flashes through my mind. It taunts me, whispering that maybe Eloise is crying because she does not wish for me to be married to another.

Stop it, Damon. I chide myself. You are getting yourself into dangerous territory.

"Damon."

I look up at Mary, who is hovering over me with furrowed brows. It seems that she has been calling my name for some time now.

"My apologies, Mary." I run a hand through my hair, frustration gnawing at me.

Mary's eyes soften and she sits down in the chair closest to me. "Tell me, what is troubling you, my child?"

I look into her warm eyes. They know me so well, those eyes. They have watched me grow from a spindly boy to a man, they have seen my tears and my sorry plight as a footman, they have caught every longing gaze I sent Eloise's way. They know me, perhaps, in ways that I do not know myself. Those eyes have the power to turn me back into the little boy that would follow Eloise's footsteps all around the estate.

"Nothing, Mary."

Lies. Mary knows this and still, she is the epitome of patience. She reaches out and takes one of my hands into her own weathered, wrinkly ones, her lips lifting into a small smile. I fight the urge to pull my hand away. She is too close. She cannot get past the shields I have worked so tirelessly to build.

"Damon. My sweet child."

Mary's voice is soft and lilting and warm. I force myself to keep my gaze locked onto the table before me. If I look at her now, if I see that familiar loving expression on her face, I will break. No one has loved me for six years and I have survived. I need to keep it that way. Love will lead me nowhere but destruction. Eloise made sure of that.

"When you were young, there was one thing that endeared me to you more than any of your qualities. You were the most open little boy I had ever met. You wore your heart on your sleeve, you were so resilient despite all the deprivation and devastation that surrounded you. You cared for everybody, you could not bear to see another in pain. I know that boy, my boy, is hidden under this cold façade you put on."

She knows. She sees through me.

She continues, "Damon, you may pretend to care about nothing and no-one but I see your eyes. I see them fill with love for your daughter, I see them shine in Eloise's presence. I know that you still love her. I know that my child has a heart too big not to care. You have suffered so much heartbreak, so much anguish and yet, you are the same Damon I raised. I am so proud of you, darling. I am so proud that you have made yourself into such an upright man, a man with a business to call his own, a man who begs respect upon entrance to a room. Others may see a formidable entrepreneur, but I see my boy, I see my little Damon."

She has succeeded in overthrowing my defences. Her words have made my eyes well up with tears. Her words take me back to the days I have tried desperately to forget – days of running through the slums, holding up my sick mother, watching as every child she birthed after me died in her arms. I am transported back to days of being belittled by society's elites, chasing rabbits through the gardens with Eloise, taking vows with her to forever be by her side. Those bittersweet days which have led me here.

I meet Mary's gaze, allowing her to see my vulnerability for the first time. As ever, her eyes are warm like an embrace, but today they are also wet with emotion, similar to mine. How does she manage to see through every wall I build?

"Mary." I choke out. Rising from my chair, I kneel on the floor in front of her, clasping both of her hands in mine. "Forgive me, if I have ever been impudent towards you since I have returned. I hope I have not sinned so! You are the one who has nurtured every quality you say I have. Since my return, I have been nothing but callous. Do forgive me."

Mary runs a hand through my hair, chuckling slightly. "Do you think I could possibly hold anything against you? You will forever hold a soft spot in my heart. You cannot fathom how it hurts this old woman to see you and Eloise so close, yet so far apart."

At the sound of her name, all of my shields slam back into place. "Mary, please. I would rather not discuss those matters."

The hand on my hair falls back and my chest tightens with the rejection.

"Okay. If not that, there is one topic you might readily discuss with me."

I look at Mary quizzically.

She gives me a half-smile, "Will you be so kind as to continue showing me how to make syllabub?"

I chuckle at her. Mary is exactly the same woman I left behind six years ago, the mother that I never had the chance to have.

---

The next morning, I make my way from Rawtenstall Lodgings back to Eloise's home. Surprisingly, despite only being here for a short amount of time, I already have memorised the routes I frequent most.

The memories of all of the lanes and the alleys that I had drowned in alcohol are now reprinted in my brain. The roads that I had let slip through the cracks of my memory have crawled their way back out.

As I walk, I take in the crisp village air, a novelty that is rare in the city where my warehouse is based. It is nice to be in a place that is more laidback in nature, less systematic and restricted. Despite the circumstances, it is a welcome reprieve from my usual environment.

I approach Eloise's home and wade through the wild garden to the front door. They really must get round to taming those plants soon.

I enter the house to a calm scene. Eloise is sitting in the armchair by the fire, knitting away, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ella is at her feet, surrounded by a circle of dolls, all of whom have tea cups and saucers.

The homeliness of the image before me constricts my chest. If I had stayed, this would be what I returned home to every day. My little family. I would have had a wife to love and a daughter to adore. Eloise would have welcomed me with a kiss and Ella would have wrapped herself around my legs. In that perfect, ideal world, she would call me Daddy. She would know that her father is right in front of her.

I switch my gaze from Ella back to Eloise, who still has not registered my presence.

"Hello, ladies." I say with a smile on my face.

Both Ella and Eloise look up simultaneously.

Ella beams and leaps over her dolls, jumping into my outstretched arms. I pull her close to my chest, giving her a tight hug.

"Mister Damon, I missed you!" She exclaims, pulling away slightly to look at me.

"Well, I suppose it is a good thing I came then."

"It is very, very, extremely, so very good, Mister Damon! It's the bestest good thing." She says all in one breath, making me laugh.

"Wow, Ella." Eloise calls from her chair. "That was certainly a lot of words."

"It was." I agree, "Our Ella is a very intelligent young girl."

She gazes at me with her wide blue eyes, taking in my words. She is so sweet. I cannot believe she is mine. Taking the opportunity, I slide my fingers to Ella's ribs, tickling her, making her squeal and wriggle in my arms with delight. She kicks her legs, trying desperately to be free, but I hold on. Seeing her laughing with glee makes my chest swell with happiness. I hope that she can live her life just like this, smiling and yelling for all she is worth. I hope that I can return every day I have missed to her, I hope that the happiness she experiences now is enough to fill that void.

Will it be enough?

The thought makes my hands falter and Ella seizes her opportunity, wriggling out of my grasp and running out of the room into the kitchen. My gaze meets Eloise's and without warning, anger pulsates through me. She did this. If not for her insane love for Emmanuel, I would be with her. I would be with my daughter. I would have been dedicated and faithful and loving, I would be everything any woman wishes for her husband to be.

"Why did you do it?" My words are quiet, choked out.

Eloise furrows her eyebrows at me. "Pardon?"

"Why did you send me away from my daughter? Why did you rob us of a relationship? Why would you choose him over me?" My fury is palpable, running between the two of us like an electric wave.

She is staring at me, her eyes wide and innocent, pooling with tears. "Why are you – "

" – saying that? That was what you were going to say, was it not?" I accuse, stepping forward. "Why would I say something like this? Why would I treat you this way? How could I possibly think what I think? Eloise, am I not allowed to state the truth? You are the one who made the choice to leave me, you are the one who never even tried to contact me, you are the one who has done all of this."

Eloise rises to her feet, stepping past Ella's dolls, a tear rolling down her cheek. She opens her mouth to say something, but my anger has passed its bounds. I cannot control my words any longer. Before she can speak, I raise a hand to stop her.

"No. Let me speak. Since I have arrived here, I have not yet heard you apologise. You have never apologised for betraying me, for sending me away in such a callous manner! You did not even have the decency to tell me in our home, you sent me away at a railway station. You threw me away like one discards waste. You showed me exactly what you thought of me. Regardless of what happened with you and I, you could not even have the decency to tell me I have a daughter."

All of the emotions are pouring forth from me like a dam that has been broken and I cannot stop myself. I am shaking from the force of attempting to control myself, my mind registering somewhere that I am upsetting Eloise. At a deeper level, I know that I do not wish to make her upset but the rage within me has clouded the forefront of my brain and I cannot see past it. I want to rip this place apart, this home that harboured our love, this building that sheltered all the moments I am unable to forget. I want to go on a rampage and punch down walls, I want to make this house resemble the wreck I am on the inside.

Eloise glares up at me, rivulets of tears flowing steadily down her face, looking shattered and furious all at once. "Do you think I do not know that? Do you consider me blind to the sins I have committed? I know that I am to blame, I know I am the cause of my daughter's misery. I am the one who must live with that knowledge. I cannot change my actions, I cannot change what I have done. I know I broke you, Damon."

Her words have paved the path for my fury to trickle into sorrow. I let out a mirthless laugh. "Broke me? Eloise, you destroyed me. You left me with nothing to live for."

Despite that, I still love you.

Eloise hunches her shoulders, as though hearing my words causes her physical pain. "What can I do? Is there... anything... can I do anything to fix it?"

Take me back. Let me love you. Allow me to be your family.

Despite wanting to say all of that, brimming with cowardice, I instead say, "No. There is nothing to be done."

Eloise folds in on herself and I can hear her soft cries. The sound stops me in my tracks. I take in her small, defeated appearance. What am I doing? No matter what she has done, this woman is my Eloise. How can I hurt my Eloise to this extent? Am I insane? What is wrong with me? The fog of rage clears and I see things for what they are – me being insensitive and awful to the woman who has raised my child alone for all these years.

I am awful.

Before I can take control of my actions, I have stepped forward and I wrap my arms around her, enveloping her in my embrace, my chin against her head. She fits with me so well. Eloise shakes against me, her whimpers racking her body.

"Nothing is to be done, because you are already doing everything you can."

Eloise looks up at me, her teary gaze one of astonishment. I nod at her, regret pulsing through me at her vulnerable features.

"I apologise, Eloise. I have become too used to letting my anger control me. Forgive me, I forget that you are not like the others that I can afford to release my anger on. Truly, I believe that despite everything that has happened between us, you have still given me every chance to build my relationship with Ella."

"Then why..." Eloise trails off, understandably confused at the sudden change in my presentation.

"I am angry." I acknowledge. "I have never truly dealt with my emotions about us. I have tended to drown those memories in alcohol. However, that is still no excuse for me to attack you like I have done. I do apologise, Eloise. My pain is real, the anger is real, but pay no attention to my words. I am ashamed to say that in the moment, I just want nothing more than for the person in front of me to feel the pain that I feel."

Eloise looks up at me, her eyes unreadable and I move one of my hands to her face, cupping her cheek and using my thumb to wipe away the tear track. She closes her eyes at my touch and without skipping a beat, I am entranced by her beauty. Her lashes are long and dark, her skin pale but smooth. Her lips are slightly apart, almost inviting me, calling me to meet them with my own. For as long as I can remember, Eloise is the only one who has the power to captivate me in this way. My eyes scan her face, wanting to make this moment last forever. I never thought I would be holding Eloise like this again. Once more, my gaze ventures to her mouth and then flicks up to her eyes, which are still closed.

Maybe she wants me to...

My lungs burning from the breath I have not released, I lower my face to hers. If it is only for the last time, I desperately want to kiss her. Eloise's breath hitches, as if she is aware of what is coming. My eyes flutter closed, my heartbeat pumping thunderously at the proximity between us.

"Mister Damooooooon!"

The shrill cry makes me jump and Eloise wrenches herself from my grasp, taking several steps back, breathing heavily.

Ella bounds back into the room, holding up a handful of berries. "Would you like one, Mister Damon?"

I smile down at her, "No thank you, angel. Your mummy may want some, though."

Ella turns to her and Eloise plasters on a smile for our daughter, shaking her head. She looks at me and when our eyes meet, she quickly blinks and shifts her gaze to a distant corner of the room.

Ella shrugs and then takes all of the berries into her mouth at once, her cheeks expanding to hold them all. I cannot help but to snort at her expression; she looks like a little squirrel.

Once she swallows, I look at Eloise, who is still seeming as though she is in a daze from earlier. Maybe she needs some time alone.

"Ella, may I propose something?" I look down at Ella, who nods, the sides of her mouth stained with the juice of the berries. "Shall you and I play together in your nursery with your dolls?"

"Oh, yes please, Mister Damon!" Ella squeals, rushing over to gather all of her dolls. "Come with me!"

I let her lead me out of the room and up the stairs to her nursery. As we leave the room, I feel Eloise's eyes on my back, but something tells me not to turn around and look. A feeling tells me that she is having a private moment to herself and to look would be to break that privacy. Besides, I have already hurt her enough today.

In Ella's nursery, she has me sit cross-legged on the floor, one doll in each of my hands. Ella has the same in her own little hands and is instructing me on the roles I must play.

"You have the mummy and the daddy. I have me and my little sister." Ella gestures to each of the dolls.

"Daddy?" I say, noting how the dolls reflect the missing members of her family. "Ella, who is your daddy?"

Ella's eyes meet mine and they fill with sadness. "My daddy is Mummy."

A breath hitches in my throat at her comment. "What does that mean, sweetheart?"

Ella looks down at the dolls in my hands. "I do not have a real Daddy, like the other girls at my school, so when I get sad about it, Mummy tells me that she is my mummy and my daddy."

"You get upset about not having a daddy?" My voice cracks. My poor daughter. I cannot imagine how she spent her life, always seeing other children with their fathers but never having her own.

"Yes. I want a Daddy like the other girls." Ella twists the hair of one of the dolls around her finger. "Mummy says I am just like her. Mummy's daddy died when she was little. Mummy only had Mamma Adeline and I only have Mummy."

My heart feels heavy in my chest, pounding against my ribcage. How can such a small child carry the weight of all these heavy concepts and not break? How is she able to show so much acceptance of her circumstances and never question them? There is only answer and deep within my soul, I know it. Eloise has given our child the best upbringing any mother could only dream of giving her child. Without a father to guide and love her daughter, she has stepped in to fulfil both roles.

"Ella, my sweet girl, you are different to Mummy."

"Why, Mister Damon?" Ella's voice is laced with curiosity as she leans in to hear my response.

"Your mummy might only have had your Mamma Adeline, but you have your mummy and your Mister Damon."

Ella breaks into a grin, her eyes crinkling with warmth. She leans up and wraps her arms around me and I hold her close, holding back the tears.

Guilt courses through me. I have been absent for so much of her life. I do not even know if I will be able to see the rest of it, if Eloise will allow me to.

All I want is for the little girl in my arms to live her life free of any strife. For as long as I am here, I will make sure of it.

Closing my eyes, I tighten my hold on her, wanting to shield her from the cruel world that is waiting just beyond the four walls of this home.