The days that followed my unexpected encounter with Alexander were a blend of anticipation and trepidation. Ashford, with its familiar sights and sounds, felt both comforting and suffocating, like a warm blanket that threatened to smother. I found myself wandering the village, heart racing each time I caught a glimpse of the manor on the hill, a grand reminder of my past.
With every brushstroke on canvas, I poured my emotions into my art—landscapes of the rolling hills, portraits of the villagers, and, inevitably, pieces that evoked memories of a boy who had once captured my heart. Painting had become my solace, a way to channel my feelings into something tangible. But the shadows of my past lingered, no matter how brightly I tried to express my newfound independence.
It was on a particularly sun-drenched afternoon that I received an unexpected invitation. The note, delivered by a breathless footman, bore the unmistakable crest of the Duke of Sandringham. My heart raced as I unfolded the parchment, reading the elegant script that danced across the page:
Dear Eloise,
I would be honoured if you would join me for tea at Sandringham Manor this Saturday at four o'clock. I hope to speak with you further about our last conversation and perhaps explore the beauty of the gardens together. Please let me know at your earliest convenience.*
Yours sincerely,
Alexander
I read the note several times, each word sending a fresh wave of emotion coursing through me. An invitation to the manor felt both thrilling and terrifying. The gardens, once a haven of childhood dreams, now loomed as a backdrop to my heartache.
That evening, I sat in the drawing room, my mother knitting by the fire, while my father read the newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration. The air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread. I hesitated, the invitation clutched tightly in my hands.
"Eloise, dear, what troubles you?" my mother asked, glancing up from her work, her kind eyes searching mine.
"It's nothing, Mama," I replied, attempting to sound casual. "Just an invitation to tea."
Her expression brightened. "How lovely! Who is it from?"
I hesitated, the weight of Alexander's title resting heavily on my tongue. "It's from... Alexander."
My mother's eyes widened with delight. "Oh, how wonderful! You must go! It's a splendid opportunity, dear. The Duke's son is a fine gentleman."
"Is he?" I asked, forcing a smile as I recalled the boy who had caused me so much pain. "I suppose he has changed."
"Change is often for the better," she replied, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "You should give him a chance. You might find that he has grown into a man worthy of your affection."
I swallowed hard, the word "affection" hanging between us like a fragile thread. "I hardly think it's that simple, Mama."
"Perhaps not, but it's an opportunity to rediscover each other."
Her words lingered in the air, stirring a flicker of hope within me. Could I truly allow myself to believe that things could be different? With a deep breath, I made my decision.
The day of the tea arrived, and I found myself standing before my mirror, anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. I donned a soft green gown that complemented my height, my hair pinned in elegant curls, and I allowed myself a fleeting moment of pride as I inspected my reflection.
As I approached the Manor, its grandeur loomed larger than life. The ivy-clad walls and sprawling gardens were a breathtaking sight, but I felt a flutter of unease as I ascended the stone steps. Would the beauty of the place eclipse the painful memories buried within its walls?
Upon entering the drawing room, I was greeted by the warmth of the sun pouring through the large windows, illuminating the fine china and delicate pastries laid out on a silver tray. Alexander stood near the fireplace, looking every bit the gentleman, his deep blue coat accentuating his stature. He turned as I entered, and for a moment, our eyes locked, a spark of recognition passing between us.
"Eloise," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I'm so glad you could join me."
"Thank you for the invitation, My Lord," I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. "It's lovely to be here."
He gestured toward a comfortable sofa. "Please, take a seat. I wanted to show you the gardens. They're in full bloom this time of year."
As we settled into conversation, the initial tension began to dissolve. We spoke of art, literature, and the beauty of the countryside. Alexander listened intently, his gaze unwavering, as I shared my thoughts and dreams. I found myself laughing—truly laughing—for the first time in ages. It felt surreal, the connection rekindling like a flame long extinguished.
After some time, he rose, extending his hand to me. "Shall we take a stroll? The gardens are best enjoyed in the afternoon light."
I hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, and together we made our way outside.
The gardens were a riot of colour—roses in shades of pink and white, lilacs swaying gently in the breeze, and the sweet scent of jasmine hung in the air. Alexander led me along the winding paths, pointing out various blooms and sharing stories of his childhood adventures amidst the flora.
"Do you remember the willow tree?" he asked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "The one by the pond?"
I nodded, a smile breaking through my apprehension. "I spent hours drawing there. It was my sanctuary."
"Your sanctuary," he repeated softly, his gaze fixed on me. "I often wondered what you saw in those drawings."
The moment stretched, and I felt the gravity of his words. "I saw beauty, but I also saw... heartache."
"Heartache that I caused," he said, his expression earnest. "I can't express how deeply I regret those words, Eloise. I was foolish and blinded by my own insecurities."
I took a breath, the air thick with emotion. "I've spent a long time coming to terms with that pain. It's not easy to forget."
"I wouldn't ask you to forget," he replied, stepping closer. "But I hope you can see that I've changed. I want to show you the man I aspire to be."
We paused beneath the branches of the willow, the sunlight filtering through the leaves like shards of gold. I could feel the tension between us shifting, the air charged with unspoken feelings.
"I'm willing to give you a chance," I said, the words spilling forth before I could reconsider. "But trust is fragile, My Lord. It will take time."
He smiled, a genuine warmth illuminating his features. "Time is all I ask. I want to earn your trust, Eloise."
