Through My Eyes

Chapter Thirty

Sorry to say this, but we are very near the end. We have one more chapter left and then the epilogue.

Chapter Thirty

Damon sighs and I look at him over my wicker basket. "What is it?"

Damon's shoulders are slumped and he wears an expression of self-pity. He says, "I'm tired. Can we go home now? My legs are aching, Ellie, I don't know how you do this all day long."

We are standing in a marketplace, surrounded by various stalls selling anything you could dream of. Stall owners scream out their wares, luring customers in. People barge to and fro, determined to get the best deal for their items, pickpockets linger here and there but Damon steers me clear of them, having the knack to recognise them due to his days in the slums. The air is filled with smells of incense, cooking, raw meat, rotting food and animal waste that all coalesces together to form an eye-watering stench. The cobbles are uneven beneath my feet and even after a month of coming here nearly every week, I still stumble on them sometimes, needing Damon's support so I do not fall to my feet in a heap of embarrassment.

"Practice." I reply simply. "Luckily for you, I think we've got everything we need. Mary said she'll pick up some meat from the hunters when she goes shopping, so that means you can have some chicken for tea tonight."

Damon's face instantly lights up and he takes my hand, dragging me along with him. "Well, let's get home quickly then! Maybe Mary's already home..."

"No, Damon, I doubt it. She was still home after we left." I say, twisting out of the way as a soot-covered child runs past.

Damon pouts childishly. Ever since our marriage, he has become more and more content with life and much more youthful and free. It's a side of him that I have never seen before and a side that I discover more of each and every day. At times, he can be so childlike that I feel like his mother, instead of his wife. Then, in the evenings, when we sit in front of the warm fire in each others' arms, reminiscing about 'old times', I know that my Damon hasn't changed at all. He's just learned how to love life.

An intoxicated man stumbles past, his body staggering to one side and he nearly falls, but he grabs onto my arm. Damon immediately stiffens and pulls me to him, watching as the poor man falls to the ground. He looks up dazedly, his accusing eyes fixing first on Damon and then on me.

When he looks at me, he stands up unsteadily and his eyes go from hazy to clear. "You're the girl. The one on the poster."

I gasp and Damon puts an arm around my shoulder, his hand shaking. "We have no idea what you are harping on about - go home, you are extremely intoxicated."

"I know a Duchess' daughter when I see one!" He says and then points a yellowed fingernail at Damon. "And you! You're the footman who abducted her! The vermin, the scum!"

The man spits at Damon, but in his intoxicated state, he just manages to dribble down his chin.

"Hey! You had better not talk to my husband in that way again, old man." I say, clenching my fists.

"Husband?!" The man cries. "He abducted you! He has manipulated you, brainwashed you! You come with me and I will take you to your mother."

"Eloise, we're leaving. I think this man is crazy."

I turn back to look at Damon. He is deathly pale and fear flickers in his eyes. I walk over to him and he puts an arm around me, leading me away from the now screeching man, who promises to free me and to get me home to my mother.

Damon does not say anything the whole way home. As we walk into the main room, Mary stalks in from the kitchen, her cheeks rosy and full, presumably from cooking in the kitchen.