Episode 37

Elouise woke after only a short sleep.

Morning light was breaking. In the soft glow filtering through the curtains, she saw the man’s face in front of her and, for a moment, was startled—then sighed. The man who’d talked her ear off until dawn was now sleeping so deeply beside her that even the end of the world wouldn't wake him.

She tried to slip her hand free, only to flinch. Marcus was holding her so tightly that even in his sleep, it was difficult to pull away. Still, after a bit of effort, she managed to free herself. Elouise slowly sat up and looked down at him. That handsome, smooth brow, the elegant bridge of his nose, and his eyes—now closed in peaceful slumber.

The man she loved, and the man who left her in turmoil.

Yesterday, Elouise had been truly happy—and simultaneously unbearably melancholic. They say love is a demon that lifts you up just to drop you—and truly, that was what it felt like. In just one day, she had been tossed between the heavens and the depths, her emotions swinging so wildly she could barely think straight.

Even as she basked in the sweetness of a man confessing his love to her, moments of chill would pass through her, like cold water thrown over a dream. She couldn’t tell which feelings were real. She was rattled.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and gazed down at him for a long while. The early morning was quiet. No sound of maids bustling about—only the occasional chirp of birds through the slightly open window.

In the cold morning air, Elouise shed a few tears. They were the kind you could wipe away with a fingertip—barely there.

When did I become so quick to cry?

It had all started after meeting this man.

She had never once done anything that might tarnish her reputation—until Marcus Hanger entered her life like a whirlwind. Since then, she had done nothing that felt like herself. And yesterday was the pinnacle of that transformation.

Elouise hesitated.

The happiness Marcus had given her the night before had been overwhelming. Every time he told her he loved her, her heart fluttered with joy.

But behind that joy lurked a monster. It made her miserable that she couldn’t believe any of the words that brought her so much happiness. She reached out and brushed his brow. Even in his sleep, he smiled faintly. That smile was so enchanting, Elouise found herself smiling back—though her eyes were wet.

She’d always assumed she’d be punished for overstepping. She never believed the luck that had come to her would last. She never believed Marcus’s love would last any longer for her than it had for anyone else.

Elouise had always reminded herself:

I’m fortunate.

She was the daughter of a baronet—not a wealthy one, of course. Her father had squandered their fortune, so all they had left was the name. But she was decently pretty.

She was smart enough to read and write Toulous—the nobles’ tongue—by the time she was twelve.

She was agile and graceful. While her older sister, Louise, could barely walk ten steps with a book on her head, Elouise could balance five and still move like a lady.

Her nature was cheerful and gentle.

Her curly brown hair had a healthy sheen, and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth. Friends and nurses alike used to say she would marry far better than Louise. Her father had vanished after failing at a mining investment and wandering the streets drunk, but at least he hadn’t returned as a corpse. Her sister Louise had found love.

She had found it and…

Elouise sighed.

No. She hadn’t been lucky.

She was a noble in name only. Her father had lost everything. Her pretty face meant nothing in the face of debt, and despite her elegance and cleverness, she had never carried out that ideal marriage everyone predicted. Her cheerful nature had no place in the life she'd led.

Her father had gone missing. Her sister had eloped and shattered their family’s name, leaving Elouise to raise her difficult child alone. Telling herself she was lucky was the only way she could endure those years.

Last night, Marcus had said he would write to his family in the capital and marry her properly. Elouise looked at him once more, then rose gently and slipped on her robe.

She stepped out into the cool corridor. She couldn’t think clearly while staring at the man sleeping beside her.

Madam Noskina had said it would take at least three days for Marcus’s letter to reach the capital and get a reply. In three days, Elouise might truly have to prepare to become Lady Hanger.

...Or, I might need to prepare to leave him.

She smiled bitterly. After all, she didn’t know how long Marcus’s love would last.

She had already told him she loved him. The man who had whispered passionate declarations all night might open his eyes this morning and realize his feelings were gone.

Elouise was a quick thinker.

She knew that if she pretended not to notice his love fading, she would get to wear the title of Lady Hanger.

Even factoring in the time it would take to process documents from Maine to the capital, she could enjoy that title for a while.

Even if his love faded, Marcus wouldn’t throw her out. He was a fickle man, but in unexpected ways, he was also principled and kind—and Elouise knew it.

It was ironic. A man who seemed like the worst choice in the world could be, in many ways, the best.

If she became Lady Hanger, she would live in comfort for the rest of her life. She wouldn’t have to worry about finding a tutor for Juliet. They would always be warm, even in winter, without her needing to chop and haul firewood.

Elouise stopped herself before she could fully imagine that future. She had already once reached for a diamond beyond her station—and the result had been devastating.

She knew herself. She would spend each day anxiously wondering when his love would expire. And when it did—maybe in two months—she would be left watching his back as he moved on.

That title, Lady Hanger, might offer warmth and food, and a future for Juliet that she could never provide alone…

But it would also break me.

Elouise thought back to the man who had whispered sweet nothings to her the night before. Her heart ached with happiness—and with despair.

She had no doubt that everything he cited as proof of his love would eventually scatter into meaningless dust.

The life of Lady Hanger would be one of slow decay—sustained by comfort, eroded by memory.

Elouise opened a door. A small girl lay curled under the covers, the blocks she had played with still scattered across the bed.

She sat on the edge and brushed Juliet’s forehead. She had already lived through one life of slow, silent deterioration—clinging only to the faint joy of childhood memories.

She couldn’t afford to place false hope in this one. She was too tired for that. The tears she had cried the night before proved she’d reached her limit.

So she would enjoy exactly three more days of happiness.

And then, with her own hands, she would pop the bubble before it could burst on her.

She wouldn’t look back.

---

She kept busy all morning.

Marcus kissed her on the cheek after shaving, and when he asked where they might go to enjoy a good time, Elouise smiled.

“Today’s for Juliet.”

Marcus bowed, overly formal and clearly sulking.

“But may I at least join you for tea this afternoon, Elouise?”

“…You can call me El. But no—I already have plans.”

“Is that so? With whom?”

Elouise only smiled.

“It’s a secret.”

She dressed in her best outfit: a cool-toned blue dress with a clean silhouette.

As she changed, Marcus grumbled beside her, “Who are you dressing up for to look so lovely?”

“Where are you going?” she asked playfully.

“Unbelievable.” Marcus grumbled. Then he stepped close and kissed her twice on the cheek.

“Listen carefully, El. Right now, I’m fighting the urge to keep you locked in this room and not let you go anywhere. And these cheeks—too pretty—”

He kissed her forehead.

“—this forehead too—”

Then her eyelids.

“—and these eyes, sparkling like stars!”

At that, Elouise laughed and pushed him away. Marcus looked disappointed but let go when she insisted.

He truly was the gentlest man in the world when in love. Even when she kicked him out of the room, he left quietly, only mildly sulky.

She braided her hair, ate some snacks, stroked Juliet’s hair as the child laughed and brought her random flowers—and all the while, Elouise was thinking furiously.

I’ll have to return to Maine…

She had decided: in three days, she would go back.

But would he let her go so easily?

Everyone in Cliff knew she was from Maine. In that small town, anyone who heard her name could walk you to Starwood Manor from memory.

Perhaps I’ll travel a bit first...

She carefully mapped out her escape.

The first thing to take care of: the diamond. It was rightfully hers—payment for services rendered, even if the mission had failed. No one could say otherwise.

She had long since given up on asking Marcus to help sell it. She couldn’t risk him catching on. She didn’t have the means to sell such a gem now, but eventually, she’d figure something out.

A year of travel—surely by then, he’ll have moved on...

Elouise chose time over uncertainty. Rather than worry daily about whether today was the day his love would fade, she would distance herself entirely.

Marcus had given her quite a bit of money during their outings—claiming she might need it. But he hadn’t guessed it would fund her escape.

She emptied her coin pouch. Juliet, lying across the bed, scanned the coins with sharp eyes and reported instantly:

“Two thousand one hundred and fifty-two shings.”

“My, did you count all that already?” Elouise gasped.

Juliet grinned and rolled across the bed. Elouise began counting quickly.

“Wrong, Juliet. It’s two thousand two hundred and fifty-two.”

Juliet frowned, then promptly plucked a 100-shing coin and handed it over.

Elouise tilted her head in confusion. Juliet declared sternly:

“It’s bad.”

“…Money being ‘bad’ is a common theme in history, but Juliet—”

“No, it’s just bad.”

She threw the coin into Elouise’s lap. Curious, Elouise inspected it. It wasn’t rusty or dirty. What made it “bad”? Then she had a thought.

“Wait—Juliet, are you saying it’s a fake?”

“{Little frogs, funny little frogs! No ears and no noses!}”

Juliet was humming a children’s song in Toulous but answered anyway. Elouise quickly grabbed another 100-shing coin to compare. Juliet’s “bad” coin was thinner. A counterfeit.

To have counted so quickly—and spotted a fake too?

Elouise was impressed, and then troubled.

Juliet was always on her mind.

If she were alone, Elouise could run off anywhere, for a year or even ten. But with Juliet… could she really do that?

No. When it came to Juliet, she always stepped back.

She had never married, never had children. Juliet was more Louise's child than her own niece. But remembering all Louise had done for her, she always wanted to do everything for Juliet.

And yet now, she was preparing to put Juliet in a situation no respectable lady’s child would be in—all for her own selfish desires.

She couldn’t assume Juliet would simply adapt. That was naïve.

“Juliet. What if you had to say goodbye to Miss Abigail?”

Juliet paused mid-play, then fell backward across the bed, staring up at Elouise upside down.

“Like with Mommy?”

Elouise flinched. She knew “Mommy” meant Louise.

She quickly shook her head and smiled.

“No, like with Aunt Karen. Just for a little while.”

Karen had watched Juliet while Elouise worked in Maine. Juliet thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“No.”

It was unusually firm and clear for Juliet. She rolled her eyes, then sat up and added again:

“No.”

“…"

"When asking for something, speak quietly and politely. Look the other person in the eye. Use good posture.”

Juliet recited, word for word, what Elouise had once taught her. Then she stood up straight, hands folded in front of her—awkward, but imitating a formal greeting.

“With good posture.”

“Juliet…”

“No.”

Elouise pressed a hand to her forehead.

Juliet really didn’t want to leave Abigail.

She said nothing when she was happy—but when something upset her, she always made it known. Elouise sighed. Juliet, watching her closely, added:

“I like home.”

“…”

“I like going home. Starwood house is okay.”

It was clear.

Juliet never voiced what she liked. She was only trying to make Elouise feel better.

Elouise pulled her into a hug.

How pathetic am I, to have even this little girl worry about me?

As she held her, Elouise remembered the handkerchief she’d tucked away in her drawer.

She still had mountains of things to settle. That handkerchief was just one. She decided to start with the second-hardest task first.

The most difficult one… would come later.

When she thought of that person, Elouise steadied her breath.

Compared to that frighteningly kind old woman, even the Duchess of Bellona would be easy.

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