Echoes of Time

Chapter 3

The morning sunlight filtered through the delicate lace curtains of Elara’s room, casting soft golden patterns on the polished wooden floor. She stirred beneath the heavy quilt, the unfamiliar scent of lavender lingering in the air and tickling her senses. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy yet alert, only to land on the ornate canopy bedpost above her.

A bedpost? This isn’t my bed. She thought

Elara bolted upright, her pulse racing as she took in her surroundings which although was elegant but utterly foreign—the tapestried walls, the antique armoire, and the elegant gown draped over a nearby chair.

Her breath hitched as fragments of the previous night rushed back. The glittering chandeliers, the swirling gowns, Julian Montrose’s penetrating gaze. And then, the bombshell: Colin Bennett was her brother.

“No,” she whispered, rubbing her temples as though she could force clarity back into her mind. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be real.”

But it was real. The weight of the corset she’d worn, the whispers of the guests, the heavy gaze of the Duke—all of it weighed down on her like a second skin.

Her spiral of thoughts was interrupted by a knock at the door. Before she could respond, it creaked open, and a maid entered carrying a silver tray. The clinking of porcelain snapped Elara out of her daze.

“Good morning, my lady,” the maid said, her voice cheerful yet measured. “I trust you slept well after the excitement of last night?”

Elara froze. The woman standing before her wasn’t just any maid—her face, though younger, was hauntingly familiar. It was Professor Martha’s face, down to the sharp yet kind eyes and the slightly upturned nose.

“Professor?” Elara blurted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The maid stopped mid-step, her brows furrowing in polite confusion. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

Elara shook her head quickly, her heart pounding. “N-nothing. I just… You remind me of someone I know.” The universe was playing a cruel trick with her.

Elara shook her head quickly, her heart pounding. “N-nothing. I just… You remind me of someone I know. From… from a book, perhaps.”

The maid’s lips curved into a modest smile. “What a kind thing to say. I’ve often been told I have a familiar face.”

Elara forced a tight-lipped smile, her mind spinning wildly. Why would someone here—someone from this time—look like Professor Martha? Was this a coincidence, or something more insidious? The universe was playing a cruel trick.

The maid continued as though nothing were amiss. “Her Ladyship, the Viscountess, has requested your presence at breakfast in the dining hall. She’s most pleased with the success of last night’s ball in her honor.” She smiled.

Elara blinked. “Last night’s ball was… for her?” She mumbled but the maid heard her.

“Yes, my lady,” the maid replied, setting the tray down on the bedstand with practiced grace. “The charity event in honor of her birthday was quite the triumph. Your organizational efforts were instrumental.”

Organizational efforts? Elara thought, suppressing a nervous laugh. Sure, why not? Apparently, I’m not just lost in time—I’m also running galas now.

The maid curtsied and left the room after sorting out Elara’s outfit, leaving Elara alone with her spiraling thoughts. She dressed slowly, her fingers trembling as she fastened the ribbons of her gown. Her reflection in the small vanity mirror was almost unrecognizable. She was about to meet her supposed mother—someone she had never met before

By the time she reached the dining hall, her nerves were frayed. The room was grand but surprisingly warm, with tall windows that flooded the space with sunlight. At the head of the table sat a regal woman with silver-streaked blonde hair, her posture impossibly straight.

“Elara, my darling,” the woman said warmly, her voice carrying a natural authority. “Come, sit. You must be exhausted after last night.” Elara hesitated, her legs feeling like lead. This was her supposed mother? The Viscountess of Norwood exuded a maternal grace, but there was something sharp in her eyes that made Elara’s stomach twist.

“Good morning, Mother,” Elara managed, her voice unsteady.

The Viscountess’s gaze softened as she gestured for her to sit. “There’s no need for formality, child. Sit and eat.”

Elara slipped into a chair, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. Moments later, Colin entered, his usual swagger and easy grin lighting up the room.

“Sister!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with cheer. “You look remarkably well for someone who fled the ball as though hounds were on her heels.”

Elara shot him a glare, but her lips twitched despite herself. “Must you always tease, Colin?”

“Always,” he replied with a wink, pouring himself a cup of tea. “It’s my solemn duty as your elder brother.”

The Viscountess smiled indulgently. “Colin, leave her be. She worked tirelessly to make last night a success.”

“Indeed,” Colin said, raising an eyebrow at Elara. “Even Mother can’t stop singing your praises.”

Elara flushed under their combined attention, unsure how to play along. “I… I’m glad the event went well,” she said hesitantly.

Colin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I didn’t think you’d pull it off. Mother was sceptical too, but you proved us wrong. Even Julian seemed impressed.”

The mention of Julian sent a jolt through her. She kept her face neutral, but her heart hammered. “I was just… doing my best,” she said, her voice barely steady, all the while wondering how long she could keep up the charade.

Later, as she walked through the estate gardens with Colin and to her dismay, Eloise Pembroke, Elara’s nerves felt like they were stretched to breaking point. The latter’s lavender gown swayed as she walked, her every movement calculated for maximum elegance.

“You’re quite the marvel, Lady Elara,” Eloise said, her tone saccharine and cutting. “To take on such a daunting task and succeed so effortlessly… I’m impressed.”

Elara forced a tight smile. “Why? Thank you, Miss Pembroke. But it was a team effort.”

“Oh, modest too,” Eloise said, her eyes glinting with something sharp. “No wonder His Grace finds you so… fascinating.”

Elara’s stomach flipped. Before she could respond, Colin stepped in with a laugh. “Julian finds fascination in ledgers, Eloise. Let’s not flatter him too much.”

Eloise’s expression faltered for a split second, and Elara shot Colin a grateful look.

It was then that Julian appeared, his dark coat and tousled hair making him look like a storm rolling in. He dismounted from his horse with practiced ease, his intense gaze locking onto Elara.

“Lady Elara,” he said, his voice deep and deliberate. “Might I have a word?”

Oh wow, would you look at that? Just when I dodged a bullet. Elara thought.

Eloise stiffened, but Elara barely noticed. Numbly, she nodded and followed him to a secluded corner of the garden.

Julian stopped, turning to face her with an unreadable expression. “You’re… different,” he said, his voice low.

Elara swallowed hard. “Different, Your Grace?”

“There’s something about you... rather unfamiliar,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze bore into hers. “Something I can’t quite place. It’s… unsettling.”

Elara’s breath caught. She felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice wavering.

Julian studied her for a long moment before speaking again, his tone quieter but no less intense. “Be careful, Lady Elara. Whatever game you’re playing, know that this world has teeth.”

She held his gaze, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Grace,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

As Julian walked away, Elara exhaled shakily, her fingers trembling. She had survived the encounter, but she could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her. This world was watching her, testing her—and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep up the act.