✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 44

A/N: Third try of publishing this chapter, please let me know if things are repeating again

The soft hum of conversation and the gentle clink of fine china filled the small sitting room, where the scent of freshly brewed tea mingled with the faint tang of lemon biscuits. I sat poised on the edge of the upholstered chair, my hands wrapped around the delicate porcelain cup. Across from me, Raphael settled into his seat, his polished prosthetic limb gleaming faintly in the afternoon sunlight that filtered through the lace curtains.

"It's so nice to see you again, Eden," Raphael said, his voice warm but tinged with something wistful.

I smiled, though the sight of his missing limb brought a familiar pang of sorrow. "I see you've adapted well," I said gently. "How have you been?"

Raphael shifted, adjusting the angle of his prosthetic with practiced ease. His footman approached, setting down a fresh cup of tea for him before discreetly retreating. Raphael took a small sip before answering, the lines of his face deepening.

"Well," he began, his tone resigned, "I was engaged to Mariam. But after she found out about this—" he gestured lightly toward his prosthetic "—she called off the engagement."

I inhaled sharply, the words striking a chord in me. "Goodness," I said, leaning forward instinctively. "Raphael, I'm so sorry to hear that. That's truly awful."

He shook his head with a thin, rueful smile. "You needn't pity me, Eden. I can't exactly blame her, can I? Who would want a cripple?" His words were said lightly, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. "Still," he continued, "I'm thankful to be alive. And for that, I have you to thank."

I frowned and waved off his gratitude, though my chest tightened at the memory of the battlefield. "You give me far too much credit," I said firmly. "I only cleaned your wound and arranged for your transport away from the front. That's hardly heroic."

Raphael chuckled, setting his teacup down with a faint clink. "Oh, Eden Barrow, always the modest one," he said, his smile deepening. "Still underestimating herself after all these years."

Before I could respond, his expression shifted to one of sly curiosity. "Now," he began, "do tell me—I read about your engagement to Mr. Crawley. Congratulations, by the way."

My cheeks warmed, and I glanced down at my hands, unable to suppress the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Thank you," I said softly. "I gave him my answer the day I returned to Downton. Poor Matthew had been waiting for more than four years."

Raphael leaned back, studying me for a moment, a wistful glint in his eyes. "It's a shame, really," he said.

I looked up, confused by the change in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he said with a low chuckle, "if I'd been first, I might've been able to call you mine."

The room suddenly felt warmer, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I laughed nervously, trying to ease the tension. "Raphael..."

He held up a hand, his expression softening. "Forgive me," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean to unsettle you. I just thought you should know."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he pressed on. "You, Eden Barrow, have always been a woman to admire. Even back then. The mysterious girl who never saw the inside of a school but could run rings around anyone with her wit."

I hesitated, the memory of my unconventional childhood flickering to life. "Well," I said finally, "I have Thomas to thank for that. He's the one who taught me everything. He's the real genius."