The Throne of Broken Hearts

CHAPTER TWO

ÉLOISE.

Morning arrived without mercy, gentle streams of sunlight poured into the chambers, illuminating every nook and cranny of the otherwise dark room. I awoke quite early today and after taking a few minutes to replay the events that had happened since Annie's wedding which was comfortably about a week ago, my constant arguments with Papa, I stood up and began to get ready for the day.

The manor employes a few kitchen maids and the house governess to take control of the house,I did not receive special treatment like the daughters of other nobles in terms of having maids at our beck and call — Mama made sure of that and for as long as I can remember, I either dressed up myself or Mama helped.

I stood in front of the mirror to take a final look at my dress — it was a gift from André, a Black dress that had intricate designs that crept through its sleeves and bodice like little snakes. I heaved a heavy sigh and walked out the door.

I sat at the long banquet table, my posture stiff, I dreaded meal times these days but skipping meals was not an option in this household, I stared at the spoons and forks, my appetite absent. Sunlight spilled through the high windows, catching on polished silver cups, bowls and untouched bread. The castle had returned to its rhythm—maids whispering, plates clinking, voices measured and polite—as if grief had never passed through its halls - well it never had, it had only passed through me.

Breakfast passed uneventfully with Mama taking cursory glances at me.I suppose she felt guilty because Papa forbade her from speaking to me. At that moment, Papa spoke over the rim of his goblet “There is a matter we must discuss,” he said calmly, too calmly. My fingers tightened around my cup, the last piece of my bread slipped to the ground.

“A proposal has been made…”, he paused. “A favorable one.” He gestured slightly, as though this were a matter of trade. “ The duke’s household. Respectable Son of the Duke…You would be well placed”. The words struck me like a blade drawn slowly, my face blanching with horror and Mama's face mirroring mine.

“Harlow, listen to me…” Mama tried to appease him but he cut in brutally. “Clarisse, I am Marquis de Valnoir, I am of high standing in the society and my daughters must never go below what they were born into” he spoke so proudly I felt nausea well up within me.

“ I think we should give her some time Mon cheré, what do you think?” Mama spoke and for a moment it felt that the air had run away from the chill Papa emitted but at this point I couldn't care less. “I am not for placement,” I said,my voice thin but barely controlled.

Papa’s jaw hardened. “You are twenty. Your sister, Annie, is married. The court watches, they talk, Éloise. You will quit being stubborn, stay quiet and listen to me, you will not shame this house by clinging to a ghost”. Gasps came from behind the curtains where the kitchen maid stood while we had meals.

The words shattered what little restraint I had left. I rose abruptly, my chair scraping against the stone floor. “Do not speak of him.” I spoke my voice filled with anger and regret. I regretted not drowning myself in the tub a few days ago, I felt anger not at my father but at André who felt everything would remain the same if he decided to die. My heart pounded in my chest as if threatening to leave me.Silence fell heavy across the table.

“You will obey,” Papa said. “This is not grief. This is indulgence.”

I turned away before he could see the tears gathering, my skirts sweeping behind me as I ran out the hall. I did not dare to stop lest he sees my tears. I ran until the cold morning air struck my face and the stables came into view. Plené, my dark horse, stood there as if she had been informed of my arrival and between the next hour I was gone.

The road to the village curved through ash trees and low mist, making it hard to see beyond a few feet but I rode on anyway. I pulled my cloak closer to my chest, heart pounding — not from fear, but from relief from my father and the memories of André that he has constantly tried to strip from me. Here, beyond the walls of the manor, I could breathe, and think. Plené neighed softly,her sound calming me a little.

The orphanage stood at the bottom of the hills of Auvergne, on its outskirts far from the main settlement, its stone darkened by age and sickness. The orphanage served as both an orphanage and a small health center, both services separated by greying walls. The smell of boiled herbs and damp linens greeted me before the door even opened.

They did not ask my name. They never did.

I washed my hands, then tied my hair back, and knelt beside the cots as though this was where I had always belonged. Children slept fitfully. Others coughed softly into clothes already stained by fever. I took my time changing the nappies of the children and petting the children whose faces were scrunched up in pain— I felt for them, I always had but recently I feel connected to them…to him this was where he died at this settlement with pain and…. I stifled my sobs and continued my work.

I moved with deliberate quietude, my footsteps muffled by the softness of the worn carpet as I changed the linens on the clinic beds for what felt like the hundredth time that night. I pressed cool, damp cloths to the fevered foreheads of the patients, murmuring words of comfort that I wasn't even sure anyone could hear above the steady cries of the children and the soft sighs of the other patients.

Yet, I persisted, a quiet ritual of care in a place where chaos threatened to erupt at any moment. Each breath I took in this sterile place felt like a confession – a whispered admission of my own vulnerability, my own mortality – and a rebellion.

If father knew, he would forbid it.

If the court knew, they would whisper.

But here, among the sick and forgotten, I felt closer to life than I had in weeks, closer to him.

And I knew at this moment ,with aching certainty, that this was a secret I would keep, for him —even if it cost me everything.Time moved as fast as it could and I had to return, to the chilling manor I had to call home and as Penlé moved through the grasses I had a feeling that would be the last time I would visit this orphanage.