Chapter 7
Though much had changed at Hawthorne Manor, Rosewood Hall remained untouched. Familiar. Mine again.
Militery life had rewired my rhythm–at first light, I was already in the walled garden–turned–training ground, blade in hand, moving through each stance with purpose. The chill of dawn was sharper than ever, but it kept my body and mind alert.
A maid brought a modest breakfast. I ate quickly, then turned my attention to correspondence from the barracks reassignments, patrol rotations, requests for supply. There was never a shortage of things to do
Just as I sealed the last letter, someone knocked
“Lady Margaret is here, my lady.
Mother rarely sought me out these days. But I had expected this
“Let her in,” I said without rising
She entered with a smile too polished to be sincere, holding a tray passed from her maid. “Eleanor, I had these new gowns made for you. Took me quite the effort.” Her tone was warm, too warm.
One glance told me she hadn’t stitched a thing herself.
I didn’t bother to call her out. “Just leave them over there.”
She placed the tray down, ryes darting around the training yard as if the place offended her. “You’re keeping far too modest a staff, Eleanor. It reflects poorly on your station. Shall I arrange for a few more attendants?”
“No nood,” I replied curtly. “My guards will be arriving shortly.”
Her attempt at civility fizzled instantly
“Let’s not play games, Mother,” I said flatly. “Just say what you came to say.”
Mother gave a tight smile. “You always did see through me.”
She seated herself, folding her hands. “Your brother William is about to sit for the autumn trials. As his elder sister, surely you’ll lend him your support he’ll need allies at court one day.”
“And,” she added, almost too casually, “I beard His Majesty plans to host a victory banquet. It would mean a great deal if you brought Beatrice along. A young lady’s future rests on her marriage prospects. If she’s seen in noble company, it will help her secure a worthy match–which benefits all of us, including you.”
I gave her a slow look. “Hasn’t Beatrice already been promised to Lord Cedric?”
Lady Margaret gave a pointed cough. “Well, if a better opportunity presents itself, why not consider it?
So that was it. “Scheming for a better connection, and dressing it up as family concern,” I said coolly.
Her face tightened, but she didn’t dare contradict me
1 tapped a finger against the table. “I won’t say no.”
Mother’s eyes li
It with barely hidden excitement. “Truly?”
I offered a faint smile. “But I do have one small request. The storeroom key.”
Her face soured immediat ply.
“That key has been in my care for over a decade. Why would you need it?”
Pave a slight of my head Only what my father means to leave behind for me Surely you haven’t forgotten, Mother–this manor bears his name, not
yours.”
She hesitated.
pressed, “When Beatrice finds herself a suitable husband, you’ll be free to step back from such… responsibilities.”
Mother didn’t answer at first. Then, with great reluctance, she nodded. “Fine.”
Belore long, a footman delivered the storeroom key to my study
–
Topened the old doors myself. Dust clung to the corners, and the air smelled of parchment and iron. The valuables were stored elsewhere, of course this
Cloper?
place held only the remnants of what was once my father’s world.
But these remnants mattered to me.
I moved slowly through the rows of shelves, trailing my fingers across old leather–bound ledgers and war charts. So many cases of him, untouched for
years
And I was looking for something very specific.
The day of the royal banquet arrived
Beatrice was practically shimmering with excitement, draped in layers of embroidered silk and weighed down with jewelry. She had been waiting at the manor gates before the sun had fully risen.
I wore a simple riding dress of deep blue, understated and unadorned. No jewels. No fanfare.
As we boarded the carriage, Mother tugged at my arm for one final reminder. “Mind you take good care of your cousin tonight.”
The carriage rolled forward.
Beatrice, seated beside me, was all honeyed smiles and bright chatter, clearly eager to draw me into idle conversation.
I closed my eyes and leaned back, ignoring her entirely,
Eventually, she fell silent
We arrived at the palace gates just before sunset. As I stepped down from the carriage, I turned to her.
“Watch your words and behavior tonight,” I warned. “We’re guests of the King. Don’t bring shame upon Hawthorne Manor.”
She adjusted a loose curl near her temple, lips twitching in faint defiance, but she nodded all the same.
Then, as the grand palace gates creaked open and the golden light spilled across the marble floor, I saw her eyes flash–not with nerves, but with barely restrained delight
And I saw it clearly.
She wasn’t here to admire the nobility,
She was bere to climb.
