RECAP:

Mary smiles, "You're such a wonderful person, Miss Eloise. You've been through so much and yet you don't show a hint of bitterness. I just wish I could do something to help you."

"There's nothing you can do. I just have to... accept my fate. It's time to give up, Mary. I've fought as much as I can, but I lost. I have nothing left now, nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. I surrender. Will you help me dress? I need to speak to Emmanuel."

Chapter Eight

“I have taken a decision.” I say, my hands clasped, my shoulders back, my back straight, “I will no longer oppose you. I shall marry you without any fuss or bother. I am prepared to be your wife.”

A hand rests on my shoulder. I look to my side to see Emmanuel gazing down at me. He spins me around to face him, “You're... ready? You're prepared to accept me?”

I swallow, “Yes.”

He cups my face in his hands and bends down to kiss me. I close my eyes and stay relaxed; I do not fight, I do not struggle. I realise this kiss is very different to Damon's kiss; I do not feel a thrill or happiness, just a blank and numb feeling. 

Emmanuel embraces me but I do not return it. I just stand there with my limp arms by my side. Once he lets me go, Emmanuel bounces away like a drunk rabbit. I watch him leave and then see a shadow behind a tree. The shadow steps into the light and I see who it is.

Damon.

“Damon...”

He stalks off.

“Please! I can explain!” I call after him, to no avail. Running a hand through my hair, I stare after him, desperately wishing I could take everything back, if only he would look at me, if only he would talk to me.

My Damon. My poor Damon...

The next week is spent with hectic arrangements, tedious fittings, collecting rings, pining for Damon and putting up with Emmanuel's excited rambling. 

When the day of the engagement comes around,  I am thoroughly fed up.

My eyes are puffy from having cried the whole night before and a stranger fusses over me with powder, “Just a little here... and here... stay still, please. And I think...”

“I do not wish to wear so much powder.” I say, pulling my robe around me. Mother pinches me from behind so I sit still, allowing the stranger to suffocate me with her various powders. Then she begins braiding my hair into a painfully intricate bun, piercing grips through my head, pulling strands this way and that. 

By the time she has finished doing my hair, it feels like pins have been pierced through my head, knocking themselves into my skull. My scalp is red and sore; I long to itch it terribly. 

Mary helps me up and orders everyone to leave the room. After squeezing me into my corset, Mary begins pulling that dreadful pink dress over my head. I hold my breath as the material settled on my body, clinging and smothering.

I wince, “Mary, this dress is awful.”

Mary sighs as she ties the lace at the back, “Well, you did not protest at the time. Now behave, darling, do not sulk. It is the day of your engagement. This crest-fallen face does not suit a bride-to-be. Smile for me?”

I send her a forced smile.

Mary chucks me under the chin, “Come on now, darling. It is time for Mistress Adeline to see if all is well with your appearance.”

We glide down extravagant corridors until we approach Mother's room. I take a deep breath to steady myself before knocking.

Mother's cheerful voice trills, “Come in!”

I turn the knob and walk into the room. The walls are painted the same pink as my dress, the wooden floor is bare. A huge bed dominates the far wall, a glass screen leads to the balcony outside and Mother stands in front of the mirror, preening herself like a cat.

She is wearing a turquoise gown, studded with beads and sequins. Upon my arrival, she twirls around, gasping and clasping her hands to her chest. “Eloise!” She squeals excitably, “You look captivating, my darling! One second, I know what will complete this whole look.”

She waves a pair of silk white gloves at me. I look at them with disdain and Mother is not slow to chide me, “I have warned you, do not make faces like that! These are lovely and you shall wear them. Now put them on.” 

I slide my fingers into the gloves, looking back at Mary, who just nods imperceptibly.

“Right, now you look absolutely wonderful. The way a Duchess's daughter is supposed to look. Emmanuel will be under your spell when he sees you.”

I look away, trying to hide my disgust, “I am no witch that he will be under my spell, Mother.”

“Oh, Eloise! Do not be so prim and proper. You know what I was attempting to say. Now, hurry up. We must go downstairs at once.” 

She puts her arm around my waist gently, as though hesitant to hurt me, like I'm sort of fragile creature, not the daughter she's never thought twice about slapping every now and then. 

We float effortlessly down the stairs and I hear the raucous chatter of the village all gathered in the parlour. Above all the voices, I hear the pretentious warble of Lady Elizabeth, boasting and prattling on about her husband's achievements in the Navy and how her eldest son is planning to follow in his father's footsteps. Ugh.

Mother turns to me, “Remember, when we enter, keep your eyes downcast. It shows demureness and that is always required in a bride-to-be. Understood?”

“Yes, Mother.” I say, aiming my sight at the floor already. Mother opens the door and we walk in. The room goes silent as everyone turns their heads toward me. I feel my cheeks heating from the attention and focus on not tripping over the tedious dress. We walk past the sea of people until we arrive at two throne-like chairs. Emmanuel occupies one of them.

Mother lowers me into the chair and moves away to let everyone admire us. I finally let myself look up at the crowds of people gazing at us. Amongst them, I cannot spot Damon. I look around, waiting to see his face. And then I see him.

Well, his back. Leaving the room.

I stand up immediately and Mother is at my side, “What are you doing?”

“Mother, I need to do something. I... I need to use the restroom. I shall be back.” I run out of the room before Mother has the chance to say anything else.

I spot Damon heading in the direction of our old meeting place. I hitch my dress up to my knees and run after him, my shoes getting dirty in the mud.

I have just entered the closure when a hand grips my elbow and spins me around to face him - Damon.

“What are you doing, running with your dress held up like that?!” His face is like thunder.

“Damon, I have to talk to you.” I plead, “Please.”

“Do you know how inappropriate this is? You're supposed to be getting engaged. Leave. Now!” He pushes me back but I step forward again.

“No. Not until you listen to me. And you will.”

Damon narrows his eyes but says, “Go on.”

“I'm sorry.” I admit, “I am so sorry for not running with you but I do not have a choice. My mother does not have a lot in her world apart from money and honour. She needs me. I cannot let myself do this to her, I cannot run. I hate Emmanuel, I really do. I do not wish to be married, especially to him, but I do not have an option.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Damon asks, “I am, after all, just your footman.”

“Damon.” I whisper, “You are not. You are so much more than just my footman. You are my best friend, you are my first love, you are my first kiss. You are my life and I cannot live without you. Please talk to me.”

“Have I been mute this past few minutes?” Damon says bitterly.

I shake my head, “Damon, please. I want everything to go back to the way it was.”

“The way it was? You mean, when I followed you around like a lost dog?”

“No, Damon...”

“No thank you. Now, leave. I have a job to do and you have an engagement to attend.” Damon saunters away. I turn and trudge back to the parlour, my shoulders slumped in submission. Maybe this is how it will be, maybe this is how it was meant to be, but my heart and I shall fight it until the end. If there is nothing left to lose, then perhaps it will be easier...

“This is my husband, Phillip.” Lady Elizabeth says.

I turn to the grey-haired, uniformed man and curtsey, “Pleased to meet you, Mr Colleton.”

“My son, Richard and his wife, Rose.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” I curtsey again. 

“As it is with you, Miss Eloise. What do you think of my brother?”

“He is kind and sentient. He and I share a love of horses so I am sure I will be very happy with him.” I lie through gritted teeth.

Emmanuel's father, Mr Colleton stands slightly taller, “I knew from the first moment I saw you, just over a decade ago, you were the one for my Emmanuel. He is a clever lad, with a high level of maturity and respect for women. He shall treat you very well.”

I am very tempted at that moment to tell him that Emmanuel had already tried to slap me, but some how I hold myself back, “I'm sure he shall, Mr Colleton. How are you finding my home?”

“It's a beautiful home; just like our holiday home in Dover. Such a lovely place, with the cliffs and the landscapes. So much history there, too. We always have a smashing time when we go. You and Emmanuel really should go down there sometime after the wedding. Maybe as a post-wedding thing.”

I am saved from replying when Mother interrupts, “Mr Colleton, I would like to make an announcement. Please could Elizabeth and yourself join me?”

“Yes, of course, my dear. I must say, your daughter is amazing. Just like her mother.”

“Oh, stop, please.” Mother giggles, fluttering her eyelashes at my future father-in-law, “Come, Elizabeth is waiting, Mr Colleton. Richard, Rose, please, you two also join us.” 

All four of them walk off, talking and chuckling. I sigh, turning around, nearly bumping straight into Emmanuel.

He smiles down at me, “Have you met my father?”

“Yes. In fact, I was just having a conversation with him. He seems very proud of you.” I avoid making eye contact with Emmanuel, opting to just look around at the crowds of people in our parlour.

“I hope he is. Can we talk outside?”

“Of course.” I say, linking my arm with his reluctantly. We venture outside, past all the crowds of people eager to congratulate us. We walk all the way to my favourite enclosure and sit on a bench.

“I wish you were more open about your feelings with me.” Emmanuel says casually.

I look at him, “I don't understand.”

“You are so... engrossed in yourself. Some of the time, it is almost as if you are lost in a world of your own. I always wonder what you think about.” 

“I... I have always been this way. Ever since my father died.” I say, looking at my clasped gloved hands.

Emmanuel loosens his collar, “When you are my wife, I will have certain standards.”

“Standards? What do you mean?” I ask.

He has caught my attention suddenly. “I mean, I will not tolerate you being so aloof. You will have to talk to me; tell me your feelings; your thoughts; your experiences. You will do all of that because that is what a wife does. If you do not comply with me, there will be consequences. Consequences I am sure you do not want to occur.”

I pull my arm away and stare up into his sunken eyes, anger pooling in veins, “I will not do any of those things, especially not after you have talked in that manner with me. I may be your future wife, but I am my own person and I will do what I wish to do.”

I stand and Emmanuel follows my lead.

“No, you won't.” Emmanuel grabs my forearm, squeezing it, “You are mine. You hear me? You're mine!”

“I am not your toy, that you can treat me however you like.” I push his hand away, “I am not going to obey you or your rules until you respect me, like I have been respecting you all this time.”

“Listen to me – ” Emmanuel growls.

“No! I am going inside.” I turn and stride rapidly into the house, smiling calmly at people who glance at me despite the rage broiling inside me. Mother is beating a fork against a champagne flute delicately. Everyone in the room turns to face her and I can sense her basking in it. She has always loved attention. Ever since I was a little girl, I remember her feeding on attention like one feeds on food. She seems to thrive on it. 

“Well, as you all know, the three of us have called you here to aid us in celebrating the engagement of our children, Emmanuel and Eloise. Now, both of you, come here.”

I walk hesitantly towards Mother, my gloved hands clasped in front of me. I can sense Emmanuel right behind me. I stand beside Mother and Emmanuel stands on the other side, facing our audience.

“We shall begin the exchanging of the rings.” Mother says, manoeuvring herself past me and taking a velvet cushion with a ring box resting on it from Lady Elizabeth. They both gracefully float over to us, Mother standing next to me and Lady Elizabeth next to her son. I avoid his probing gaze and his sneering smile that tells me he knows he's won, choosing instead to burn a hole in the floor. Lady Elizabeth props the cushion on one hand and opens the lid of the ring box. 

The cerulean ring catches my eye. It looks more beautiful than I'd hoped. The ring band is gleaming in the light, aiding the gems to shine brighter than any object in the room. The ring catches the light and glistens even more. 

There are appreciative murmurs around the room and I can't help the pride that swells in me. I chose this ring. Me, Eloise, who knows nothing of fashion and the like.

Emmanuel takes the ring and Mother nudges me. I raise my hand, taking the glove off. Emmanuel slides the ring on and everyone coos irritatingly. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and ignoring my dismissive body language, Mother removes the lid of our ring box to reveal an engraved ring band. 

I take it out, gazing at it. The engraving is in Latin; a language I was taught, but have long forgotten. A rustling captures my attention and I look up to see Damon's face among the rabble. 

He is red-cheeked and looks almost child-like. His eyes are staring into me, his mouth is pursed tightly and his hands are in his pocket.

He looks defeated, an expression I have never seen on him before. It makes me feel lost, as though I'm stranded in a desert without a guide, as though I'm in a foreign universe where strange men suck the very soul from you, where your own mother betrays you, where no one is ready to help you. 

Mother nudges me again, breaking my reverie, “Put the ring on him!”

I look at her, suddenly panicked. “Mother...”

“Do it!” She hisses, glaring at me.

I bow my head and rapidly sling the ring onto Emmanuel's finger. The room erupts in cheering and applause. Lady Elizabeth kisses my cheek and Mother proceeds to do the same. I attempt to smile as people rush forward, shaking my hand and congratulating me. 

I nod and smile at the right intervals, all the time fighting the urge to cry. When I finally get a chance to look back to where Damon was standing, he has already left...