Lady Eleanor Stilworth had not planned on staying the afternoon in her sunroom, but something about the soft warmth pouring through the glass called her to surrender. The light refracted through the high arched windows, bathing the marble floors and overstuffed pillows in a honeyed hue. She reclined on a divan draped in muted gold fabric, her vibrant blue cotton top contrasting vividly with the earthy tones of the room.
The early autumn air teased the curtains, shifting them gently with every breeze, but Eleanor barely noticed. She closed her eyes, toes brushing the edge of the rug beneath her. Around her neck lay a delicate gold necklace, catching the sunlight in subtle glimmers as it moved with the even rhythm of her breath. Her long, dark locks spilled over the suede cushion, like cascading rivers of ink, framing her serene expression.
The afternoon wore on, broken only by faint sounds of horses’ hooves from the courtyard and a far-off bell tolling in the village. That peace was shattered, however, when the butler, Weston, appeared in a fluster at the doorway.
“My Lady,” he began, his deep baritone voice wavering, “a letter has arrived. It bears the seal of The Invermere Society.”
Eleanor opened her eyes slowly, her tranquil demeanor abruptly sharpened by the mention. She held out her hand, and Weston stepped forward to place the envelope carefully between her fingers. The wax seal—a crimson mark with the society’s intertwined ‘I’ and ‘S’—stared up at her ominously.
As she broke the seal, her pulse quickened. The letter contained only a single line: “Come alone at twilight.” No name, no signature, yet she knew who had sent it. It was the specter from her past, the man who had disappeared five years ago and stolen not only her youth, but many considered her future as well.
Eleanor rose, smoothing the folds of her skirt as gravitas overtook her earlier lighthearted air. Weston eyed her carefully, sensing the change. “Shall I ready the carriage?” he asked. She hesitated before giving a single, firm nod.
Whatever awaited her at twilight, she would face it with the same composure she wore now, her elegant form balanced between brightness and shadow. But as she glanced out at the sprawling fields beyond the sunroom’s windows, she could not shake the thought: Was this to be a beginning—or an end?
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Bask in Effortless Elegance: The Blue Ribbed Top Trend You’ll Want to Ship ASAP
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Get Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
Post Comment