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.
YOU ARE READING
Through My Eyes
Historical FictionSet in the late 18th century, this saga of love and betrothal envisions how girls of supposedly 'noble' families were lured into a marriage they do not necessarily want to be a part of. Seventeen year old Eloise is the daughter of a Duchess, a widow...