I spent all of last night tossing and turning in the lodging room, my mind unable to shut out Eloise's harrowing words. I do not know what I expected her to say to me after six years apart, but her dismissing absolutely any feelings for me was never a part of my expectations. At the very least, I had desperately wanted her to say that she had missed our friendship. The camaraderie before our love which had defined my life, the friendship that had become my very backbone. Has she forgotten its value? The endless times we spent together confined in four walls and under wide open skies, sheltered by the skies and all the twinkling stars that she tried to match up with the freckles on my arms. I wanted to her to admit that our friendship was still important to her. I suppose I thought that she would say that the simple friendship we shared still meant even a little to her.

I was wrong. I was ready to leave this morning, I had wanted to board a train and return to Southport and immerse myself in the breweries but the promise I made to Eloise would not let me even pack my case. After all that has happened, she still has my heart and soul clenched between her fingers and she is blissfully unaware of it. She is married and happy (I assume) with Emmanuel and here I am, with Eloise still flowing through my veins in the same way she was six years ago.

I will not allow Eloise to see the effect she still has on me. I will fight it. I will give her the impression that I did not spend two out of six years of my life without her slumped over bar tables, slurring through words I knew she would never hear. I will give her the impression that I did not spend two years without her finding women who resembled her and trying to court them but failing miserably because they did not have her spark, her kindness or her disregard of society. I will give her the impression that I was completely okay without her and that I functioned perfectly and didn't cry myself to sleep every night and didn't have dreams of her.

So now here I am, standing in the doorway of Eloise's living room, watching as our daughter runs over to her mother and excitedly babbles, "Mummy, Mister Damon is here to take me to the carousel. Please come, we will have so much fun!"

"Damon is here?" She asks as Ella wraps her arms around Eloise's legs.

"I am." I answer, giving her a well-practiced smirk. I hope she does not see the dark circles around my eyes. Eloise's kind nature will not allow me to do anything if she thinks I am sleep-deprived, she will put me to bed herself.

I do not know if that is a good or a bad thing.

I drink in Eloise's appearance and instantly, I feel tendrils of anger snaking around me. "You are making a living as a maid?"

Eloise instantly bristles at my tone, taking my anger for arrogance. "I am."

Do not show her you care, Damon. I have to make her think I am indifferent towards her and if that means I have to act cold, I shall do so.

I walk over to her, trailing my fingers down her arm, clenching my jaw at the electricity that follows, willing myself to go along with what I have started. "The irony of this is not lost on me. A good six, seven years ago, you were practically aristocracy and I was your servant. Today, you are a maid and I am a wealthy businessman."

Eloise's eyes narrow at me and she steps back, causing my arm to fall back to my side. "I have no shame for my employment. I will happily bathe cows for a living in order to provide for my daughter, if that is what it comes to."

I swallow. Maybe I have gone too far, judging by the expression on her face. Is she struggling?

"Do you need help? With providing for Ella?" I ask, tilting my head to look at her. What is the use of me earning the money I am earning when she is here, with my daughter, striving to survive? I will give her everything I have with me right now if I have to. She hasn't even told me anything about any financial woes. Eloise has such a bad habit of hiding her troubles from me.

Eloise frowns. "A second ago, you were mocking me. Now, you are asking if I need help."

"Eloise." I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you need help? A child is not cheap and I doubt Emmanuel contributes to the expenses. I have savings; I have never really had anything to spend my money on. I could help you. I could send money so that you do not have to work."

"I am fine. I get paid more than an average maid, it gets me by." Eloise says, turning away from me.

Ella tugs on my hand. "Come on, Mister Damon, I need to go to the carousel!"

I turn to Eloise. "Will you be joining us?"

"I need to get to work." Eloise says.

"Please, Mummy! Lady Arlington does not need you for an hour and the carousel is only fifteen minutes away from her home!"

I smirk. "Then you are most definitely joining us."

Mary chooses to walk in as I am saying this and develops a smirk of her own. "Yes, you are most definitely joining them, Eloise. I have cleaning to do here and you just get in the way."

Eloise huffs silently, folding her arms across her chest just like her daughter did yesterday.

I chuckle at the gesture before I can stop myself. "At least we know now where Ella gets that from."

Eloise's jaw drops, glaring at me and Mary bursts into laughter. Ella giggles behind her hand, before taking my hand in her tiny one and dragging me towards the front door.

"Come, let's go!" She groans, opening the front door, allowing the sun to venture into the room.

"Coming, coming." I assure her as I look back to make sure her mother is following us. She is.

Ella skips down the street, all the while clutching my hand tightly. I cannot help the love already swirling in my chest for this little girl. She brims with innocence and light, happiness and beauty. Her eyes are so much alike my own, I feel as though I am looking into myself when I look at her. In the space of twenty four hours, she already has me wrapped around her tiny fingers.

Ella drags Eloise and I down several alleys and twisting paths before we find the carousel. It is painted red and white, with a number of horses ready to be mounted. A handful of children are already scattered around it, waiting for the ride to stop so they can have their turn. The carousel seems to be a popular activity. I suppose children could be entertained on this for hours. Ella certainly adores it. Of course, I myself never experienced the thrill of a carousel.

Ella squeals with glee and drops my hand so she can run right up to the carousel as it rolls to a stop.

"Not too close!" Eloise calls after her as we catch up to her.

Ella looks back at me, holding her arms out. "Put me on the horse, please."

I reach out and pick her up, marvelling at how light she is. I gently put her down on the horse and she wriggles until she is comfortable, grinning the whole time. I step back as the ride starts up, walking back to where Eloise is stood, putting my hands in my pockets. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and her gaze is fixated on the horses on the carousel. I know she is thinking of the horse she treasured more than her life until Emmanuel killed it, Chastity, out of cold blood.

I want to take her mind off of the morbid subject. If I know Eloise as much as I used to, if allowed to dwell in her thoughts now, she will be in a sour disposition for the rest of the day.

"Ella is amazing." I blurt, without giving my words much thought.

Eloise turns to look at me and blinks. She nods, "Yes. Of course, that is not just down to me. Mary has been almost as much of a mother to her as I have, she has a lot of Mary's mannerisms."

"Such as?" I probe. I want to know as much as I can about Ella. I have missed out on so much in the last six years and I owe it to her and to Eloise to know my daughter through and through in the few months that I am here.

"She has an old soul." Eloise chuckles. "Sometimes, I feel as though she is my mother, not the other way around. She is very perceptive and empathic towards others emotions and she is very intelligent."

"I trust she is being educated."

"I am looking for a tutor for her. I want her to be well-educated, I do not need her to be just another housewife." Eloise says, her eyes following Ella on the carousel, watching our daughter whooping with delight on her horse.

"Could I do that?"

"Sorry?"

"Could I find her a tutor?" I ask. "I would have offered to teach her myself, but you know my own education is very basic. I could find her a tutor or a governess, it would make me so happy to do something for her."

Eloise does not reply for a moment and I pray with all my might that she agrees. If she agrees, it will be my first contribution to Ella's life. I want to be a responsible father. I want to do something for Ella, I want to do this for her. I want Eloise to know that now, she is not the only one responsible for Ella's upbringing and that I will do my best to help her raise our daughter in the way that she deserves to be raised.

"I..." Eloise begins, frowning but I interrupt her.

"Please. As her father, let me do this for her."

Eloise deliberates for a second, glancing over at the carousel which is now beginning to slow. "Okay. I shall let you do this for her. However, the final decision will be mine and I can refuse the tutor's services if I do not approve of them."

"Of course." I beam down at Eloise gratefully.

She smiles back at me, the first real, albeit small, smile she has given me in six years. The sunlight bathes her face for a moment and I am thrust under her captivating spell. I gaze at her smiling mouth, the same mouth that has been pressed against mine countless times, the same mouth that has told me off for wearing my dirty shoes in the house, the same mouth that has whispered she loves me. My eyes slink upwards, towards her shining eyes. Her eyes have never failed to knock my breath from my stomach. She is so beautiful in this moment, so unguarded. My Eloise is shining through, the one I had thought lost under all that steely armour she has put up to shield herself.

"Mister Damon! Help me!"

My head snaps to the side to see Ella patiently waiting on the horse with arms outstretched towards me. I quickly walk over to her, my palms slightly clammy, lifting her off the horse and putting her down. She runs to hold onto her mother's hand and then points towards a stall as I catch up to them.

"What is that?" I ask as I take hold of her other hand.

Now Eloise and I are both holding Ella's hand, like a true family.

"Snacks!" Ella says. "May I have some?"

"I do not see why not." I reply and steer both of my ladies towards the stall.

The stall owner nods in greeting and I smile, perusing his wares. There are trays stacked with different dried fruits and berries; apple slices, pear slices, blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, all with their sharp colours gleaming up at me. The stall owner even has a tray of chilli powder and another of lemon slices, for extra flavour, I presume.

"Could we please have some dried fruits?" I ask.

The stall owner takes a piece of paper and folds it until he has made a paper cup. Ella claps at the display and the stall owner beams before asking, "What fruits would you like?"

I turn to Ella to ask her, catching her pouting. "Mister Damon, I can't see. How do I choose if I cannot see?"

Chuckling, I lift her onto my hip and watch as she scans the large variety of fruits, a finger thoughtfully tapping at her chin, her bottom lip jutting out in concentration.

"All of them." She finally decides.

The stall owner obliges and begins to scoop an assortment of fruits into a paper cup, pausing to ask Ella which flavouring she would like, lemon or chilli powder, to which Ella scrunches up her nose and declines both.

Once the paper cup is safely deposited into Ella's hands, I ask Eloise, "Would you like some?"

"Oh, no thank you." Eloise shakes her head adamantly. "I have had breakfast."

"No, Mummy, you missed breakfast." Ella says, frowning up at her mother.

"Could I have another cup of the same, please?" I ask the stall owner, who nods and starts the process over again.

When he is done, I hand the cup over to Eloise and pay the stall owner. She takes it reluctantly, pouting just like her daughter. I fight the urge to laugh and instead, reach down to pick Ella up, who wishes to be carried on my back.

I adjust her position on my back so she is secure, wrap my hands around her legs and then we all begin the journey to Eloise's work place. As we walk, I keep glancing over at Eloise, who has her nose buried in her paper cup, scrounging up her fruit rather enthusiastically for someone who did not want me to purchase them for her. Ella seems to have the same thoughts as me, for she keeps giggling and whispering "Look at mummy" in my ear. And so it begins. Ella and I begin a whispered conversation about her mother's apparent hunger and how she is much too overly polite and how she should learn to let go and let other people take care of her.

She should learn to let me take care of her.

The unbidden thought paralyses my mind and for a second, I forget where I am and what am I doing. Then, I walk straight into Eloise's back. She stumbles forward and I quickly let go of one of Ella's legs to grab her by the waist, securing her to myself, my fingers burning at the sensation of physical contact with her.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my arm still around her.

Her cheeks are reddened. "Yes. Um. Damon, please let go of me."

I realise I am grappling Eloise with quite some force and embarrassment heats my own cheeks as I hastily step back, slowly letting Ella to the ground so she is not at risk of falling.

She immediately walks over to her mother, holding her hand and walking around her in a circle, seemingly inspecting her for any injuries. Finally, she bends down and inspects her mother's feet, ensuring her shoes are not scuffed and that her feet are unharmed, running her small fingers across Eloise's feet. I can feel my heart thudding with appreciation at her show of affection. I have not seen someone be so openly caring to another human being in so long.

"You are okay, Mummy. Mister Damon saved you."

Eloise just tucks Ella's hair behind her ear, smiling warmly.

"I always do." I pipe up, unable to stop myself. "It's an old habit, you see."

Eloise refuses to acknowledge my words, or meet my eyes. She kneels in front of Ella, reminding her to be good and to ask Mary if she needs anything and to remember to eat lunch properly. Why is she suddenly saying all this? Then, she leaves, stalking off into the huge manor behind me. 

Oh. This is her workplace. 

The manor Eloise works at is red bricked, with ivy trailing up the walls and numerous windows and balconies dotted on its surface. It bears a striking resemblance to Eloise's maiden home, making me wonder if Eloise chose to work here because of this fact. It wouldn't surprise me if Eloise finds comfort in working at a place that reminds her of her childhood home.

As the heavy double doors swallow Eloise, I turn and begin the walk back to the home Eloise and I spent our short-lived marital life in, following my daughter's directions the whole way. It's amazing how a place can change in six years.

A warm wave of lemon scented air rushes to greet us as we bustle in through the front door, welcoming us inside with its pleasant aroma. I spot Mary, who is busy arranging some purple flowers on the oak table in the corner.

"Welcome back." She says, without pausing or looking up. "There are snacks in the kitchen, if you would like some."

"No, Mamma Mary. Mister Damon bought me and Mummy some fruit cups on the way home."

At this, Mary turns to face us and raises an eyebrow at me, trying but failing to hide an all knowing smile. She glances down at Ella and beckons her with a flourish of her hand. Obediently, Ella saunters over and Mary stiffly kneels before her. Her age must be catching up with her, I note. I might have to call on Doctor Erikson, my friend from two towns over, to send some remedies for the effects of aging. Mary does not look comfortable at the moment.

"Little Clara and her mother came looking for you." Mary says, smoothing out the wild stray hairs on Ella's head. "Little Clara desperately wished to see you. Her mother told me to send you as soon as you returned."

"Oh dear." Ella smacks her hand to her forehead. "I promised Clara that I would play with her from breakfast until lunch time! I will be back soon, Mamma Mary."

"Okay, sweetheart." Once Ella has closed the door, Mary focuses her attention on me. "I think it is high time that you and I discuss a few things, Damon."

I swallow nervously, her determined gaze shattering through my carefully erected disguise.

***

I sit opposite Mary on the dining table, my hands clasped on the table. Memories of my childhood, where I had committed some mischief or the other and Mary had caught me, loop through my mind. I feel like a child again, caught under the intensity of Mary's all-knowing gaze, the one Eloise and I would fear so much.

"Do you still love her?" Mary wastes no time in getting to the point.

"Who?" I ask, even though I know precisely who she is referring to. I try not to clench my fists together, but if I do not, I know that I will begin fidgeting and that will be an even bigger sign that I am lying. Mary knows my old habits.

Mary scoffs, rolling her eyes, letting me know that she is aware of what I am trying to do.

"No. I do not." I say, with as much of a straight face as I can. I struggle to keep eye contact with Mary, all of my nervous habits resurfacing.

"Liar."

"Mary, as hard as it may be for you to comprehend, it is true. I have moved on."

"Damon, it is not hard for me to comprehend what you are saying, it is downright impossible! Do you think I do not see the way you look at her? It is the exact same way you looked upon her six years ago."

"Before she sent me away so she could have Emmanuel. " I curtly remind Mary.

"Sometimes the people we love the most hurt us in unimaginable ways. Sometimes, we still love them regardless. We cannot help ourselves, even if we do not want to feel for them. The heart is a stubborn thing; once it knows what it wants, it rarely lets go."

"That's all well and true, Mary, but my heart let go a long time ago. I do not entertain any foolish thoughts or emotions when it comes to Eloise, I assure you."

"Hardly." Mary snorts. "You are pulled into an emotional whirlwind every time she enters a room. Do not assume I am blind because I am old, my child."

I shake my head, refusing to let Mary scratch the surface. It took me three years to be able to think of Eloise without unleashing my wrath on innocent pieces of furniture and alcohol. I will not let Mary storm through my defences so easily. I have worked too hard on my defences to allow them to break from the weight of a few words. A few words spoken by the woman who knows me, perhaps even better than Eloise.

"Look, Mary, I am sure you have noticed the changes in me." I fold my arms across my chest, shielding myself from her penetrative gaze. "No longer am I the puny servant boy, no longer am I the poor boy from the slums, no longer am I the weakling Damon who followed Eloise around like a faithful dog. I have made a name for myself, I have become something from nothing and why? Because she left me. If I feel any emotion for Eloise at all, it is gratitude, for by throwing me aside like a rag doll, she gave me the opportunity to become a person I could never become in all the years I spent by her side."

"You and I both know you love her today just as much as you did the first time you laid your pretty blue eyes on her."

I lean forward, my hands on the table, wincing inwardly, hating myself as I say, "I despise her."

Unable to digest the words I have just spouted, I excuse myself, dashing into the garden. My fists tighten of their own accord and my chest heaves with breaths. I look around at my surroundings, needing to divert my mind from its self destructive path. My whole body is shuddering with anger.

To my left, there are beautiful rose bushes, blooming in a blood red. The rose bushes are accompanied by a number of flower beds, all of them bedded with fresh soil, the colourful buds blossoming and flourishing under the tender hands of the women of this home. In my mind, all I can think about is ripping those buds from their homes and catapulting them across the garden, as though that will alleviate the strain in my chest and the tightness in my stomach.

To my right, there is a small dirt path which leads to what appears to be a small opening. Deciding to explore it, I walk through the path, ducking under overhanging branches and emerging in the opening. It is simple; a square piece of land untouched by plants but surrounded by strong trees, with benches barring off all four corners. The sun filters through the trees, casting orange glows and grey shadows in the opening. I can hear insects buzzing, rejoicing in their paradise. I sit at a bench, wanting to rejoice with them, wanting to immerse myself in the timeless peace that seems to exist here in this little enclosure, wanting to be somewhere that I cannot destroy.

Eloise must have gotten this haven made after I left, for I do not remember it being here during our time together.

The thought of Eloise makes my fists clench painfully so I exhale and remove her from my mind, leaning my head back and closing my eyes, focusing on the exotic call of a bird instead. Birds. I have always had a secret fondness for birds. I find them to be elegant creatures of the sky, breaking through the clouds with their seamless wings, diving face first to the ground to scoop up their meals, scavenging for fragile twigs to make up their simple yet stable homes. I envy them, in a way. They have so much power in their small wings. If they do not like a place, they can simply run, leap and fly off into the sunset, dipping through clouds until they find a place they like. If that place fails to suit their fancy, why, they can simply take off again. I suppose it is not the birds themselves I envy. It is the power they have over their freedom. That is what I envy.

Before I know it, I have drifted off and I dream. I dream of women with chestnut hair and eyes beautiful enough to mesmerise me, I dream of the laughter of little girls, I dream of songbirds tweeting their tunes. For once, in a long time, I dream.

I am sharply awoken by something prodding me in my shoulder. Groaning, I brush it away, but the thing is persistent. Muttering something incomprehensible even to myself, I brush it away again but to no avail. Finally, annoyance tugging at my senses, I grab ahold of the thing and yank it towards myself, my eyes shooting open when I hear a girl squealing.

Eloise's face is inches from mine.

Eloise's face is inches from mine.

She leaps back, her eyes wide, her mouth slack. I look down at my hand, which is grasping on to a twig. She was poking me with a twig?

With a sobering consciousness, I put my mask into place and raise an eyebrow. "Wow. You must really want to avoid touching me."

"Pardon me?" Eloise's forehead furrows in confusion.

I point the twig at her and then throw it onto the ground. "This twig. If I am correct, you were prodding me with it to wake me. You really do not want to touch me, do you?"

Eloise looks away. "It's not that, Damon, I just..."

"Eloise, please." I stop her, suddenly feeling the embers of anger lighting up in me once more. My sense of peace has left me. "You made your feelings towards me quite clear yesterday."

"Damon, I don't hate you." Eloise says softly.

"But you don't love me either."

No reply.

"That is perfectly okay, because I have no feelings for you either. I am merely here for my daughter." For a moment, I regret saying it, but then I change my mind. If she can say it to me, why can I not say it to her? If she does not love me, it should not make a difference to her, no matter how untruthful my words are.

Without meeting my gaze, Eloise whispers, "Tea is ready. Would you like some?"

"No." I say.

Eloise looks up at me, then down at the ground, at the chasm of space between us. "Damon, we would appreciate it greatly if you joined us."

"I think it is best for me not to."

"Damon... you must be hungry, even a little. From what Mary tells me, you have not eaten all day."

"It would be greatly appreciated if you refrained from worrying about me." I say. "I am not hungry at all."

"Okay." Ella acquiesces, biting down on her lip. I fight the urge to touch her. "Would you like to stay, anyway? Ella would very much like that."

"Eloise, what is it? What do you want to ask me?" I ask her, rubbing the knot in the back of my neck, frustrated. "You are beating around the bush. Simply tell me what you want to know."

"Are you married?" Eloise blurts and then seems to realise what she has just said, turning and darting away into the house.

I stare after her, blinking in shock. Did she just ask me if I... 

Clearing my throat, I compose myself and straighten my clothes, running a hand through my hair.

Maybe I will stay for dinner tonight.

Hello lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Today, I am going on holiday for three weeks so unfortunately Fighting Our Flame will be updated only once I'm back. 

Thank you for your patience, Lightness.