I am sitting in my armchair, cradling a sleeping Ella in my arms. As I stroke her hair, I smile. Soon, she will be much too big to sleep in my arms like this. Already, she has to awkwardly manoeuvre herself to become comfortable. My little darling is growing up much too quickly. I must cherish these moments, hold them close to myself before they become a thing of the past. They are much too precious, too fleeting to take for granted. Time is like sand slipping through one's fingers – no matter how hard one clenches their fist, it will eventually cascade away. These pure moments of peace and normality, they will all too quickly become nostalgic and dream-like. I can only hope that when she grows into a woman, she too will remember these tender moments.

Lost in my thoughts, lost in the little girl in my arms, I barely hear the successive knocks at the door.

I groan, knowing that there is no possibility of moving without waking Ella. I instead say, in a voice loud enough for them to hear but not loud enough to rouse Ella, "Come in!"

The door swings open and Damon strides in. His hair is ruffled and mussed, strands falling around his clear blue eyes. Those eyes rove the room and then latch onto me. He smiles and then shuffles further into the room, glancing behind him as he does. A woman enters my home. She glances around, similar to Damon however her gaze is more measured, taking an inventory of everything she sees and using that to formulate an impression. An impression of me, I suppose.

She finally switches her gaze to look at me, then at Ella still sleeping in my arms. I wait for a critical raise of an eyebrow, or the twitch of a discontent mouth. I wonder if she even knows that my child is without a father. Would Damon have told her? Her face remains unchanged. There is nothing in her eyes to betray her feelings, if there are any, towards myself or my child. I am confused, to say the least.

Who is she?

Damon steps forward and perches on the footstool before me. He strokes Ella's hair and then looks at me, saying, "This is Lillian. She is a seamstress from my town and I asked her to come here and help us."

I look up at Lillian, "It is very gracious of you to drop everything at such short notice and agree to come here."

Lillian smiles and says, "It is my pleasure. Damon speaks very highly of you. I am pleased to finally have a face to put to the name."

I glance over at Damon. He speaks of me to his seamstress? I wonder what he says.

"Lillian, what kind of dress do you think would flatter Eloise?" Damon asks.

Lillian springs into action. "Damon, take the child so Eloise may stand."

Damon reaches out and takes Ella from me. "I shall just put her down in her room and then be back."

I nod in agreement and then turn to Lillian, aware of the awkward atmosphere settling as Damon walks out of the room.

"Stand for me, dear." Lillian asks.

As she requests, I stand. She looks over me in silence, walking around me in a slow circle, observing me from all angles. I stand in silence, my hands clasped in front of me. This is a strange experience – getting dressed for balls and other high-class leisure activities is something that has not been a part of my life for many years now. It is a world separate to my own. Damon is intent on attending this ball together, but I am hesitant. If my village is judgemental, then the nobility that attend these balls will tear me apart like prey. I do not know if going to the National Ball is really the best thing to do. I do not know if it is the best thing for Ella. Will there even be other children there? If there are, will they want to speak to her? Will anyone recognise me as the shunned daughter of a Duchess who was stripped of her title?

"What storm is raging within you?"

Lillian's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look at her. She stares back, eyes slightly narrowed, eyebrows furrowed.

"Pardon?"

"I know that look – you are fighting against yourself. As a woman you have only just met, I will not ask for you to share your thoughts with me. I will just tell you this – do not let fear rule you. Take advantage of the opportunities that are sent your way, they have been sent to you for a reason. It is okay to feel afraid, but do not let that hold you back. Give your daughter memories, grand memories that she will treasure. If, by any chance, there is untoward events, let them occur but show her how to overcome them. Let your strength become hers. Teach her not to shy away from opposition, but to meet it head-on and leave it defenceless."

I stare at her. She has just encapsulated my thoughts so well, it is as though I said them aloud to her.

"Lillian, thank you." I say, "Your words are appreciated, more than you know. I will take your advice."

I will go the ball. I will enjoy myself. I will give my daughter one of the best nights of her life, regardless of what others may say.

At that moment, Damon enters. "So, any ideas for what Eloise will wear?"

"Of course." Lillian says, despite our conversation having nothing to do with dresses. "We were considering matching tulle dresses. Dusty pink, with three-quarter sleeves. Frills on the cuffs of the sleeves. Perhaps, a lavender bow to accentuate the waist. How do you think that sounds, Damon?"

"I think Eloise will look beautiful in whatever you choose." Damon says, his eyes locked with mine.

My cheeks redden under his gaze and I cannot help but to smile.

"Well, let's get down to business then." Lillian says, rubbing her hands together.

She takes my measurements, shows me dozens of swatches of materials and prints, scattering them around the room. We discuss cuts and trails and bows. I am most passionate about Ella's dress – she is the one who wants to attend the ball and I want for her to have the most beautiful dress. She deserves this much from me.

As we begin to bring our consultation to a close, Ella stumbles into the room. Her eyes are bleary, blinking slowly as she takes in all the materials strewn around the room.

"Mummy, what is this?" She asks, padding across the room to me.

I kiss her forehead. "Darling, this is all in preparation for the ball. Meet Lillian, she will be creating our dresses."

Ella stood up straight and curtsied to Lillian. "Hello, Miss Lillian."

"My, what a well-mannered little angel!" Lillian titters. "It is a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?"

"Ella."

"Well, Ella, I am most excited to make you the prettiest dress that this town has ever seen. May I take some measurements from you?"

Ella's face lights up and she nods vigorously, standing before Lillian.

Damon and I smirk at her eagerness, watching as Lillian takes her measurements. Ella stands as still as I have ever seen her, practically tingling with excitement. Lillian shows her what she has planned for the dresses and Ella gives her contributions, suggesting various ribbons and fabrics for her dress, practically thrusting them under Lillian's nose. To her credit, Lillian is incredibly patient with Ella, listening to all her outlandish requests and responding with tact. Soon, it is evening and I usher Damon and Ella into the parlour so that we may all eat with our guest.

Damon and Ella skip out of the room together and as I follow them, Lillian calls out to me from behind.

"Eloise!"

"Yes?" I turn to face her.

Lillian walks over to me and takes my hand in hers, clasping it between hers. "Pardon me, but I wished to say something to you personally. Thank you."

"Thank you? Whatever for?"

"For the light in Damon's eyes. For the spirit that I never even knew he had within him. I have known him for four years and I suspect that I am the only friend he has, apart from his business partner. When I met him, Damon was... well, he was someone completely different. He was drowning in drink to escape, he was a shadow of who I am seeing today. He would spend days in drunken stupor, stumbling from inn to inn until they tired of his antics. I never knew what he was running from, I could never get close enough to tell, even when he pulled himself from those pits of depression. He was so guarded and defensive. He would never speak of where he came from, his struggles, his pain. Now, he is different. I have my suspicions, dare I say, that this change is partly to do with you. Are you his undoing and his cure, Eloise?"

"Undoing and cure?" I stutter. "Lillian, you do speak in riddles."

"Yes, but you understand exactly what I am saying. I am correct, am I not? He was perhaps an old love of yours. I suspect you hail from nobility, so is it that he was sent away because your love trespassed on the norms of society?"

"I know not of undoings and cures, Lillian, no less how I can be one for him. Damon is an old friend. He is very special to me, so perhaps, yes, I have brought out the old him, if you would say it like that. You have helped me and my daughter immensely today and I appreciate that with my heart. Do not take my kindness for weakness and push your boundaries. Please, come and have supper with us."

With that, I turn and flee from the room, my blood pumping in my ears with the newfound knowledge I have just been given.