❝𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦𝐬❞

A Turning Point

In the third year of their cold and unspoken union, tragedy struck in the shadows of Wintermere Manor. News arrived one gray morning, borne on the lips of a shaken messenger: Marguerite was dead.

Eliza heard the details from the hushed voices of the servants. Marguerite had died in childbirth in a brothel near London, far from the elegance and comfort she had once known. The child—a daughter—did not survive either.

When Charles was told, he locked himself in his study for two days. No food, no drink, no company. The man who had always carried himself with an air of aloof indifference was suddenly broken. His grief was private and raw, but Eliza could see its weight in his hollowed eyes when he finally emerged.

Yet, for all the change that Marguerite's death brought to Charles, it altered little for Eliza. Her days remained quiet and unremarkable, her loneliness unbroken. What shifted was William.

The young gardener, who had become a bright moment in her dreary existence, had begun to grow distant after Marguerite's passing. His smiles were sadder, his words fewer. One morning, as Eliza walked the gardens, she found him standing by the old oak, a letter in his hands.

"I cannot stay, my lady," he said, his voice low and full of sorrow.

Eliza felt her chest tighten. "Why, William?"

His gaze fell to the ground. "Because my heart cannot bear this any longer. I care for you, more than I ought, and I know it will never be returned as I wish. Staying here—it only hurts us both."

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she wished she could reach for him, tell him to stay, to say the words that might make them both happy. But she couldn't. She was Lady Harrington, bound by her vows, her station, and her pride.

"I will miss you," she said softly.

"And I will miss you," he replied. "But this... this is goodbye."

When he left Wintermere that afternoon, Eliza felt the weight of his absence keenly. She wandered the halls of the manor like a ghost, her solitude now a hollow echo of the life she might have had.