1715, The City of Lynchens, Devereaux
"Are you waiting for his reply?" Madame Lovett said nonchalantly as she kneaded the bread dough in a bowl.
Eleanora, who had been absent-mindedly watching the biscuits cooling down abruptly looked up, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Whose reply?" she questioned, feigning ignorance.
"You know who I'm talking about," Madame Lovett chided gently. "That patron of yours."
"Oh, him," Eleanora mumbled, her cheeks burning brightly. "Our correspondence is strictly business, mother. He wants to commission a painting, and we are still discussing the details."
"Is that so?" Madame Lovett chuckled. "Then you seem very restless waiting for a letter that is of business purpose. If it were me, I would've hoped that the letter had gotten lost."
"I cannot help it, mother. He has promised me such large sums for each of my paintings. If I can earn enough, then you and Father won't have to continue working anymore. We can hire workers to run this teahouse," Eleanora said earnestly. "And besides, that patron of mine has spectacular handwriting. It is a joy to read his letters."
Madame Lovett did not reply, and instead, she wordlessly transferred the dough into the baking tin. "Well, don't you sometimes wonder who he is?" she eventually said.
"I do," Eleanora confessed. "The thing is, I can hardly picture what he would look like. Is he an old man, or is he a young man who likes to squander money on pretty things?"
"Perhaps you should find out for yourself, dear," Madame Lovett suggested. "After all, you might be pleasantly surprised once you do."
Eleanora gave her a look, her gaze suspicious, but before she could say anything else, she heard a loud knock on the front door of the shop.
"I'll get it," she mumbled under her breath as she left the kitchen and headed to the front of the shop. It was still in the early hours of the morning, and the teahouse was not yet open to customers. She opened the door, revealing a familiar face that she had been looking forward to seeing for these past few days.
"Miss Tilly!" she greeted, smiling sweetly at the raven-haired maid who stood on the other side of the door. "How wonderful it is to see you again!"
Tilly returned her smile politely as she stepped inside, closing the door behind herself with a quiet click.
"Good morning, Miss Lovett," she said in greeting. "I have come here with a reply from my master." She reached into the satchel at her hip and pulled out a small envelope sealed with wax, handing it over to Eleanora.
"Thank you, Miss Tilly," Eleanora said, glancing down at the envelope with curious eyes.
"You are welcome, Miss Lovett. I will return for your reply in two days. Now, if you will excuse me," Tilly said, bowing her head gracefully and turning to leave.
Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, Eleanora suddenly called out for her, "Wait!"
She turned around to see Eleanora rushing towards her, her fingers wrapped so tightly on her crutch that her knuckles turned white. "Wait, there is something that I must ask!"
The maid blinked, startled. "What is it, Miss Lovett?" she replied, frowning slightly.
"I notice that your master's letters arrive very quickly and frequently, Miss Tilly. I receive his letters once every three days, sometimes even two. That means that lives here nearby, doesn't he? Perhaps, here in Lynchens?" Eleanora questioned.
Tilly bit her lip hesitantly. "Miss Lovett, I was told not to disclose any information regarding my master."
"But why?" Eleanora persisted, narrowing her eyes at the dark-haired maid. "It's not like I intend to bring him harm."
"Even so, I cannot risk exposing my master," Tilly said firmly. "Please leave the matter alone."
Eleanora scoffed. "Even if you hide it, I can figure it out myself. Either you tell me now, or I will go and investigate it myself. Your choice, Miss Tilly."
Tilly hesitated a moment, her eyes darting from side to side uneasily, before letting out an exasperated sigh and giving in. "Very well, Miss Lovett. My master indeed lives here in Lynchens, but that is as far as I can tell you. Please, I beg you not to pursue this matter any further."
With that, Tilly bowed and hurried away, leaving Eleanora standing alone in stunned silence. She could not understand why Tilly had to behave in such a way, and why her patron's identity had to be hidden so carefully. Was he a war criminal? A smuggler, perhaps? Why did he conceal his identity? What was there to hide?
"Who are you?" she whispered to herself.
Two days have passed since that peculiar incident with Tilly, and Eleanora continued to muse over her new discovery. Ever since she discovered that morsel of information regarding her patron, she kept questioning herself about the mystery surrounding him.
Was he some kind of criminal? Had he committed some heinous crime against society? Did he steal something from someone? There was no telling the answer to any of these questions, as Tilly never disclosed anything beyond the barest minimum about her employer's whereabouts. All Eleanora knew was that he lived here in Lynchens, and that his letters always arrived within three days.
That day, after leaving her reply on one of the tables at the teahouse, Eleanora left to explore the streets of Lynchens with Maude, one of the kitchen helpers that Madame Lovett had hired. They had both donned their fur-lined cloaks and gloves as they walked through the streets, the crisp winter air nipping at their skin, chilling them to the bone.
"I heard that you lived in the south before, miss," Maude began. "What was it like down there? Is it any different from the north?"
"No, not really," Eleanora answered. "The only difference that I can tell is the weather. It is so much colder here."
Maude grinned. "I guess it is, yes. It is cold year-round over here, and I wonder what it is like to live somewhere that is not cold."
"Well, let me tell you about my hometown. In Raevigny, it is warm and cosy, and the sun shines every day and there are all kinds of flowers blooming in every corner. The water in the streams was as clear as crystal, and the air smelled sweeter than honey," Eleanora began recounting her childhood memories fondly, her eyes sparkling bright with affection.
Maude listened eagerly as they walked along. "Sounds like quite a nice place, miss," she commented with a smile.
"It truly is," Eleanora replied dreamily.
They had just made a turn into the main street when Eleanora was greeted by the imposing sight of a castle looming in the distance, its walls a deep grey colour; its towers, turrets, and battlements rising high into the sky. She stared at the majestic sight for a while until Maude finally broke her reverie.
"What are you looking at, miss?" Maude asked curiously.
"That castle..." she murmured softly. "Who lives there, Maude?"
Maude gasped in disbelief. "You didn't know, miss?"
"I'm afraid not."
"That is the home of Lord Nicholas, the Grand Duke of Devereaux. He rules all of the north, miss, and they say that people of the north revere him more than the king himself," Maude replied excitedly. "He is the greatest general that this world has ever seen, and if it weren't for him, the conflict between us and Amaris would've never been resolved."
Eleanora's face turned pale. That was a name that she had not heard in a long time. How long has it been? Three, four years? He had left her alone in the wolf's den that autumn evening, and they devoured her. He did not save her then, nor had he spared a second thought as to how much pain and suffering she had endured at their hands. He left her without another word and never bothered to even ask if she was still alive.
The longer she stared at the castle, her heart began to fill with more and more disdain. So this was where he was while she rotted away in prison, suffering in agony all alone. How dare he? After all the sweet words that he had given her, how dare he?
"I see," she said to Maude. "Let us finish our business and return quickly, Maude. The teahouse will be opened soon."
Her eyes skimmed through the rows of street vendors, trying to find one that sold flowers. She needed to purchase lavender, to make lavender syrup for the scones. Finally, she spotted it: a small stall near the corner of the street.
Just as she was about to head there, however, a familiar figure walked past her, but he did not seem to notice her there. Eleanora turned around, following the figure with her eyes.
"Father?" she murmured under her breath. Eleanora debated calling out to him to get his attention, but he walked in such a way that it was clear that he did not wish to be disturbed.
"Isn't that Master Lovett, miss?" Maude's voice rang out next to her. "He seems to be in quite a hurry."
Eleanora did not answer, and instead, she continued to stare at Master Lovett's retreating figure as it grew more and more distant, curious of where he was heading. She took a step forward, intending to follow after him, but was stopped abruptly by Maude, who tugged lightly at her sleeve.
"Where are you going, miss?" Maude asked in confusion. "We need to do our shopping today!"
Eleanora grunted in exasperation as she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a coin purse, stuffing it in Maude's hand. "Then go. I will go after my father."
1715, Devereaux Castle
Nicholas restlessly paced back and forth within the walls of his study, a frown marring his usually stoic features. Every so often, he would glance at the last letter that Eleanora had sent him. He had done so much to protect her, to shield her from the ugliness of the world. After much deliberation, he finally had the courage to send her a letter, though he did not dare to show himself in front of her just yet. Their correspondence, no matter how mundane, was like a lone star in the dark night sky, the only bright thing in his life.
He longed to call her his Nora instead of Miss Lovett, and that she called him Nicholas, instead of being a nameless, faceless patron. As he read Eleanora's letter recounting of the pigments she had purchased and the oil paints she had ordered from Calacia, Nicholas could already imagine her beaming from ear to ear as she wrote the letter, sitting comfortably in her art studio.
But now, a threat had arisen, one that he feared would take her away from him forever.
"Your Grace, your guest has arrived," the footman announced as Master Lovett stepped through the doorway.
Nicholas' pacing came to a halt, and his gaze swept over Master Lovett before he gestured towards a nearby chair, saying "Please be seated."
Master Lovett did as he was told, taking a seat opposite of Nicholas at the table. "This is rather unusual, I must say. If I may ask, why did you summon me here, Your Grace?"
"There is a serious matter that I must discuss with you," Nicholas replied anxiously. "I have made myself quite some enemies, to no one's surprise, but now, I hear that they are already here in Lynchens."
"Enemies? And who might they be, Your Grace?"
Nicholas shook his head with worry. "Soldiers. We do not know whether they are Amarisians or from our side. There are not many of them, less than ten in all, so I do not worry about a riot. However, they have come here to seek revenge against me, though it will not be easy for them to come at me. Eleanora, however, is an easy target. I fear that they will want to hurt her, and I will not allow that."
"What should we do, Your Grace?" Master Lovett inquired, his tone grave. "Should we leave the city? It will make it harder for them to find her, wouldn't it-"
"You shall not leave the city," Nicholas cut in firmly. "If they were to ambush your carriage in the middle of the journey, no one would hear your screams. I will have my soldiers guard the teahouse instead, and all you and your wife need to do is to ensure that Eleanora never leaves until these men are caught. That is all that I ask of you."
Master Lovett bowed deeply. "As you wish."
"I was also meaning to ask... is she doing well now? Has she been eating well?" Nicholas inquired carefully.
"She is getting better by the day, Your Grace. If you had not known beforehand, then you wouldn't have guessed that she had gone through so much pain," Master Lovett reassured him. "Perhaps, it is time that you showed yourself to her. She never talks of you, but I believe that deep down, she will want to see you again. Besides, it is unfair for us to keep her in the dark forever, Your Grace."
"True enough. But I am uncertain about revealing myself to her," Nicholas explained. "I fear that she hates me."
Master Lovett frowned. "Why would she hate you?"
"Because I abandoned her," Nicholas muttered darkly. "I promised that I would help her, that I would look after her, that I would protect her from the darkness of this world. Instead I abandoned her in the clutches of those monsters. If only I had listened to her, then none of this would have happened."
Nicholas cleared his throat and forced himself to smile. "It seems like it is going to rain soon. You should take the carriage."
"No, I couldn't possibly-"
"I insist," Nicholas interjected. "I will not allow my guest to return home in the rain. Come, I will escort you downstairs."
Master Lovett did not argue further. He stood up from his chair and followed Nicholas down the hall, the latter leading the way. As Nicholas had said, it was indeed about to rain. The skies were dark grey, threatening to spit at any moment.
"You should take the hackney coach. It is the only one that does not bear my crest," Nicholas instructed as they entered the courtyard.
Master Lovett nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Your Grace."
The carriage was brought out, with two white horses pulling it in tow. Just before he was about to board it, he saw a familiar face amongst the servants bustling around in the courtyard. She would have blended right in with them, if it were not for her bright red hair.
"Nora?" he muttered softly, his eyes widening.
His mind reeled with shock and confusion as soon as he noticed Eleanora's presence here in Devereaux Castle. What was she doing here? How did she get here in the first place?
Eleanora gripped her crutch tightly and began to walk towards him as fast as her legs would allow her, her right leg dragging limply behind her. A lump formed in her throat as she recognised Nicholas standing behind her father, staring back at her with eyes as wide as hers. What was her father doing here in his castle? What was going on?
"Father," Eleanora greeted, her voice laced with distaste. "What are you doing here?"
Master Lovett stammered incoherently, his eyes darting between his daughter and the Grand Duke of Devereaux. "His Grace simply wishes to inquire about our business, that is all. Oh, you insolent girl, hurry and properly greet the grand duke-"
"I will not," Eleanora interrupted sharply, glaring angrily at her father. "I will ask this one time, Father. Is this your first time meeting him? Tell me the truth, and only the truth."
"...yes."
"No."
Eleanora turned to glance at Nicholas, her eyes filled with rage and frustration. He looked so different; the last time she had seen him, he looked as cold as ice, nothing but coldness filling his dark blue eyes. But what she now saw in his eyes, was something far warmer, something that she could not describe. His blue eyes were soft, warm, comforting; like melted snow.
She stared back at him defiantly, her heart hammering in her chest. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nora, I-" he began, and as if he had been possessed, he reached for her hand, holding it tightly in his. Oh, how he had missed her, how much he ached to have her near. But she did not feel the same.
Eleanora ripped her hand away from him, and with that same hand, she delivered a resounding slap on Nicholas' face. She had never hit anyone in her entire life; even her own mother had always warned her that violence was not the answer to any situation, that it would bring harm and misery upon herself and everyone else in the vicinity. But now, she felt nothing but pure hatred for this man who had the audacity to touch her, after all that had happened.
"Don't you ever touch me!" she snapped, her words laced with venom. "The nerve that you have, Nicholas de Lavilliers. You left me alone in that hellhole, and for four years, I desperately awaited for your letter. Yes, how stupid I was, waiting for a letter from someone who never cared! From this day onwards, I am dead to you, Nicholas, and don't you dare reach out to me ever again!"
After delivering these words, she turned around and grasped Master Lovett's hand, storming off with him in tow.
Nicholas could only watch, helpless, as her figure disappeared through the gate, hoping that she would turn around to see him one more time. Just one more time. But Eleanora never did.