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There was the twist of the knife. It was always the same. Whenever a discussion of Eloise’s future took place, it was coupled with an argument about her sister. Her father accused her of wasting time in search of her sister and that she had neglected to look to her own future, whilst Eloise retorted that her father cared nothing for Alice and had shown not an ounce of concern for her well-being in the years following her disappearance. His answer was always the same Alice had run away, and she was not coming back. He had made no attempt to find her, or so Eloise believed, and it was as though he had entirely washed his hands of his elder daughter, neglecting even her memory.
“And if I don’t seek to find her, then who will? You’ve never tried. I made a vow, Father. A vow that I’d never stop searching for Alice. Not as long as I live,” Eloise insisted.
“But it’s to your vows you should look now, Eloise. The vows you’re to make to a husband, whomever he might be,” her father retorted.
He stormed out of the dining room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Eloise alone. The butler had already made a hasty retreat. Eloise sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee. But she remained no less determined to do whatever it took to find her sister. Over the course of the years, Eloise had sent letters to every corner of the land, seeking information from whomever she could think of. But the answers were always the same. Alice had disappeared and there was no telling where she was or when she would come home.
“I won’t ever stop looking for you,” Eloise promised, turning to the portrait of her and her sister on the wall.
It had been painted when they were still very young, each of them dressed in a matching blue smock and bonnet. It made Eloise smile to look at it, even as she missed her sister more with every passing day. There was so much she wanted to tell her, and so much she wanted to ask her. But with every passing day, her hope seemed further diminished, and Eloise was beginning to despair of ever seeing Alice again.
CHAPTER2
“Breathe in, My Lady, and I’ll tie you up,” Eloise’s maid, Delphine, said, as Eloise stood in front of the mirror.
It was the night of the Mayfair Ball, and Eloise was dressed in a peacock blue ball gown with a purple sash and shawl. She was wearing a tiara that belonged to her mother and a string of pearls that her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday. She looked very pretty, or so her maid had told her. But as with any such occasion, Eloise’s opinion of herself was tempered by the absence of her sister.
“I wish I wasn’t going to this ball. It’s always the same, a procession of women all seeking a husband, and a collection of men who stalk them like wild prey,” Eloise sighed, as her maid tied up the last of her strings.
“But don’t you want to get married, My Lady? You’d make a beautiful bride, and it would please your father so very much,” Delphine said
“But I don’t want to please him. I’ve no desire at all to please him,” Eloise protested.
Ever since her sister’s disappearance, Eloise’s relationship with her father had drifted. They had been close when she was a child, and there was no doubting the comfort that her father had brought her in the wake of her mother’s death. But ever since Alice’s disappearance, Eloise had questioned how much he really knew.
His lack of concern on the day she had run away and his half-hearted attempts to find her had caused her to wonder if her father was keeping a dreadful secret. In the extremes of her imagination, Eloise wonder if Alice was dead – a terrible accident their father covered up – or if she had been abducted and a ransom so high it could not be paid had been demanded.
“And what about yourself, My Lady? You deserve the happiness of a husband and a family,” Delphine said, as she now began to comb Eloise’s long, golden hair.
But Eloise had vowed her denial. She would not be happy. Not with a husband, not with children, not with a grand estate, not with a title. Eloise would only be happy when her sister returns to her. Nothing else would do, and she vowed not to allow herself to even think of happiness when such a dark shadow hung over her.
“And what of my sister’s happiness, Delphine? Does she even know of it? I can’t bear the thought of living my life without her, even as I’ve been forced to do so these last ten years. If I’m to marry, I want her here next to me, as a sister should be,” Eloise maintained.
A knock now came at her bedroom door, and her father, dressed in his faded military regalia, entered the room.
“It’s time to leave, Eloise. Come now, we don’t want to be late,” he said, beckoning her.
The Viscount had served in the early years of the Napoleonic wars. Eloise could remember him leaving shortly after Alice had disappeared. She had been left with her governess, Martha, and had wondered if his departure was to be another abandonment. But whilst Alice had not returned, her father had, and whilst he would never speak of his absent daughter, he liked to be reminded of one more glorious military past.
“Why do you wear your faded uniform, Father?” she asked, as he led her downstairs.
He turned to her with a look of anger, as though even questioning such a thing was an insult.
“I’m entitled to do so, Eloise. I fought for King and Country against the Napoleonic threat,” he said, and Eloise grimaced in annoyance.
“Clinging to a past you no longer possess,” she muttered.
She was angry with her father that day and cared little about insulting him. They had drifted so far apart in the years since Alice’s disappearance that it was as though she hardly knew him anymore.
“You speak of clinging to the past, and yet you sat again this afternoon writing endless letters in the hope of finding your lost sister. She ran away, Eloise. And when a person runs away, they rarely return home. It’s been ten years. If I’m to stop living in the past, then you should do so yourself,” he snapped.
A carriage was waiting for them outside. Eloise put on a shawl held out by the butler, before making her way down the steps and climbing into the compartment. It was early summer, and the evening was bright and warm, with the sweet scent of the garden perfuming the air. Her father climbed in next to her, sitting rigidly as the carriage took off.
“You must miss her though,” Eloise said.
She was not usually this forceful, but she could not hold back, knowing what her father intended for her, too. Perhaps it was he who had forced Alice away. Perhaps he threatened to force her into marriage, too. But Alice had only been twelve years old when she had left, or when something worse had happened to her…
“It’s been ten years, Eloise. You’re always like this around the time of the anniversary. It’s like you can’t let go. We mourned your late mother, didn’t we? Well, we’ve mourned Alice, too. But there comes a time when we must no longer continue to mourn and instead look to the future,” he said, folding his arms.
