✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 16

MATTHEW POV

The drawing room at Crawley House was bathed in the soft, golden light of the morning sun, filtering through the tall windows. The air was still, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden outside, mingling with the lingering aroma of the evening's fire. I sat comfortably on the plush settee, still dressed in my suit from the previous day, with Eden resting her head on my lap. Her presence brought an indescribable warmth, making the room feel like a haven of tranquility.

Eden, my beloved Eden, looked angelic as she slept. Her dark brown hair, usually so neatly pulled back, now cascaded freely across my lap and the cushion. The rosy hue of her cheeks, so soft and delicate, stood out against her porcelain skin. Her green eyes, now closed in peaceful slumber, often sparkled with determination and mischief when she was awake. It was these details, these little things, that had gradually woven their way into the fabric of my life, making it impossible to imagine a day without her.

As I gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, I marveled at the woman she was. Her heart was as pure as her beauty, filled with a strength that had often left me in awe. Eden carried herself with a confidence that belied her origins and position, a grace that made her stand out in any room. I remembered how, in our early encounters, her fiery spirit had both challenged and fascinated me. It was that very spirit that had shattered any preconceived notions I had, making it impossible to continue disliking her.

Eden stirred slightly, murmuring softly, a contented smile playing on her lips. We had spent the night in the drawing room, talking about everything and nothing, from our dreams for the future to the trivialities of daily life. There was something magical about the way the hours slipped by unnoticed, leaving us cocooned in our little world. The room, usually so formal and imposing, now felt intimate, the walls echoing with the faint sound of birds chirping outside.

Her dress, the same one from the day before, was slightly rumpled, a testament to our long conversation that had stretched into the early hours. I couldn't help but chuckle softly, realizing how unconventional this all was. Here we were, in a drawing room that had seen generations of Crawleys, yet it had never hosted a scene quite like this. It was as if the very essence of the room had shifted, embracing the quiet, profound connection we shared.

As I gazed down at Eden, my heart swelled with a mix of love and admiration. She had become so much more than I could have ever anticipated. The world might see her as just a maid, but to me, she was a force of nature, a beacon of light in my life. Her laughter, her wit, her unwavering support-these were the things that had drawn me in, the things that made me want to be a better man for her.

As the rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, gently illuminating the room, Eden suddenly bolted upright. Her eyes widened in realization, her sleepy haze quickly dissipating into a flurry of panic. The once tranquil atmosphere of the drawing room was instantly disrupted by her urgency.

"Oh no, I'm late!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of alarm and frustration. The calm, serene Eden from moments ago was now replaced with a whirlwind of motion. She quickly swung her legs off the sofa, nearly knocking over a side table in her haste. The rustling of her dress and the hurried tapping of her shoes against the polished floor broke the morning silence.

I, still seated, looked up in surprise. "Eden, wait!" I called after her, his voice filled with concern. I stood up, trying to catch her attention as she gathered her things, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and worry.

"I should have been at work an hour ago!" she muttered, more to herself than to me, as she hastily smoothed down her dress and patted her hair into place. The faint scent of jasmine still lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of polished wood and the slight musk of the early morning.