When the Love Fades

At forty-eight, lifelong spinster Eleanor Pembroke finally married. On their wedding night, her husband, the country's most celebrated seer, lifted her veil and spoke without warning. "Eleanor, the three fortunes I gave you thirty years ago were deliberately false." Her body went rigid. "First, I said you were born under a ruinous star and would destroy your family. In truth, your chart was exceptionally fortunate and perfectly matched mine. "Second, I said only years of hardship and self-denial could save your dying mother. I gave the medicine to your stepmother instead, and Harriet died within the first year. "Third, I said we would reunite after thirty years. You remained unmarried, while I had already married your older half-sister." Seeing her disbelief, Silas Wycliffe tried to comfort her. "Your sister once saved my life and asked three favors. A couple should repay debts together. "I have always valued honesty, so I didn't want to hide it from you. "Eleanor, don't feel wronged. I calculated that we have another life. I will make everything up to you then." Chapter 1 Silas Wycliffe spoke as casually as if discussing the weather, while tears already covered Eleanor Pembroke's face. She remembered him ending their engagement and her father driving her from the estate while strangers called her a walking curse. She remembered thirty years of wandering, farming, sewing, fasting, and grinding poverty. She remembered keeping her promise for half a lifetime while people laughed that no man wanted the aging spinster. Silas dismissed all of it with one weightless phrase: repaying a debt. But Cecilia Pembroke had not saved his life. Eleanor had. Blood sprayed across Eleanor's white wedding gown before she collapsed. ... When Eleanor opened her eyes again, someone was gently shaking her awake. "Mr. Wycliffe has come personally to give you gifts. How can you still be sleeping?" She froze. Harriet Vance stood before her, pale and exhausted but not yet gravely ill from the broken engagement, and not yet coughing blood on her deathbed. There was still time. Eleanor threw herself into her mother's arms and burst into tears. Her startled mother wiped at her face. "Are you crying because you're happy to marry the man you love?" Eleanor shook her head desperately and held her even tighter. Harriet had endured everything in life. She endured winters without coal and clothing withheld by the household. But when Margaret Pembroke tried to transfer Eleanor's engagement to Cecilia, her mother knelt in the snow for three days and was still refused. She believed Silas was Eleanor's destined husband. He once carried her mother through a rainstorm to a physician and stopped the family from withholding treatment money. He supplied coal to their small wing and ensured Eleanor no longer wore discarded clothes that did not fit. He even secured a publicly witnessed marriage compact from the King so Margaret and Cecilia could not exchange the bride. Yet in Eleanor's previous life, this was the day he declared her cursed and came personally to end the engagement. Eleanor dried her tears and made a decision. This time, she would not let history repeat itself. She went directly to the main house and curtsied to her father. "I will surrender my engagement to Cecilia and marry into General Harcourt's household in her place. "I ask only for a substantial settlement and permission to take Mother with me." Edwin Pembroke hurled a teacup at her. "A daughter who leaves through marriage doesn't get to take a woman out of my household. Absolutely not." Eleanor did not move. She lifted her head. "General Harcourt may be critically wounded and unconscious, but many officials still support him. "If they learn the Pembrokes despised him so much that neither daughter would honor the match, your political career will end." Her father's face turned livid. After a long silence, he ground out, "I agree. "But this can't become public. Both weddings will occur on the same day, and the carriages will be exchanged before departure." Eleanor exhaled in relief, but a steady hand caught her arm. Silas stood beside her in a pale silver coat, his expression distant and controlled. His cool gaze swept across Edwin with unmistakable warning. "Mr. Pembroke, I told you that if you mistreated Eleanor again, I'd petition the King to remove you from office." Edwin immediately smiled and apologized. Silas stopped looking at him. He turned to Eleanor and gently wiped the blood from her forehead. Eleanor stepped backward instinctively, resistance clear in her eyes. His hand stopped. He studied her calmly and asked in a low voice, "Were you reborn too?" Her heart tightened, but she forced her expression to remain natural. After watching her for two more seconds, Silas returned to his old gentle manner. "Are you angry because my proposal came late?" He stepped aside and revealed the servants behind him. Two lines of attendants entered while one read the gift register aloud. "A pair of gold-inlaid vases, a ruby-and-onyx jewelry set, ten bolts of imported silk, a chest of southern pearls..." White-wrapped gifts filled the courtyard, and the first two servants carried a pair of engraved silver eagles. "I commissioned the eagles myself. That delayed me." Eleanor looked at them, her fingers curling slightly. So this was what he meant when he promised another life and said he would compensate her. In her previous life, she had once dreamed of receiving these gifts. Her mother's greatest wish was for Eleanor to become a respected wife. She had not wanted Eleanor to suffer as she had, displaced by another woman and reduced to dependence. Eleanor searched for years. The scholar next door spent his nights in brothels, and a distant cousin refused to work. Neither would do. Then Margaret sent Eleanor to a remote chapel to pray for her sick grandmother, where Eleanor found Silas gravely injured. She discovered that he met every standard she had imagined. He did not mock her limited education and taught her to read. He did not criticize her shyness and taught her how to speak in company. When women offered him flowers, he never looked at them. He spent every day studying and never became idle. When he left, he stood outside the chapel and said only four words: "Wait for my proposal." Her mother had been overjoyed, while her father cursed and said no low-ranking clerk would marry his daughter. But the man who arrived to propose was no poor clerk. He was Silas Wycliffe, the kingdom's greatest seer, trusted completely by the King. Eleanor was merely the unfavored daughter of a minor official, and the gulf between them frightened her into hiding. Silas personally taught her formal manners, correcting everything from the depth of a curtsy to the way she held a teacup. He brought her to a reception at the palace, introduced her to every important guest, and said, "This is my future wife." At the national cavalry review, he took her onto the honored platform before all the officers and seated her beside him. Step by step, he drew her out of the shadow of inferiority. People who once mocked her background began praising her composure. And later? She waited thirty years, buried her mother in a rough shroud, and learned that her entire life had been built on deception. "Miss Pembroke, have the gifts stunned you speechless? Mr. Wycliffe is waiting for your answer." The matchmaker's booming voice pulled Eleanor from her memories. She looked up into Silas's calm, gentle eyes. When the matchmaker tried to tease her again, one look from Silas silenced the woman. Eleanor smoothed things over. "Every gift is excellent. I was only thinking about the wedding date." Silas immediately ordered an attendant to bring the casting tokens. "Then we'll choose an auspicious day." He cast them seven times, and every result warned of disaster. His brows drew together. "Bring another set." Eleanor stopped the servant. "There's no need. Take the nearest date. A week from today is perfect." Silas paused, then warmth entered his eyes. "Then we'll marry soon. Don't worry about the signs. I understand astrology, but perhaps no one can calculate his own fate accurately. "With me beside you, every year ahead will be blessed." Eleanor smiled as though she agreed. Inside, she thought that Silas had finally calculated something correctly. In seven days, she would be traveling to General Harcourt's estate. There would never be another future for the two of them. Chapter 2 Edwin asked Silas to remain for dinner. Margaret served him attentively, while Cecilia made no attempt to hide her interest. She poured his wine, placed food on his plate, and told soft little stories with devotion shining in her eyes. Silas ignored all of it as though Eleanor were the only person he could see. He served Eleanor himself and, before the entire table, lowered himself enough to wipe broth from the corner of her mouth. Eleanor felt Cecilia's furious stare. Before she could turn, Silas made a small motion with one hand. A sharp crash followed. The food on Cecilia's fork and the bowl before her shattered together, splashing her dress with soup. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. Silas's voice turned cold. "I dislike anyone showing disrespect to my future wife. "If you cannot behave properly, leave." Edwin and Margaret rushed to apologize, desperate to calm him. The table descended into confusion. Only Eleanor, the woman he had defended, seemed not to notice. She quietly studied the shrimp Silas had placed on her plate. She was allergic to it. The dish he knocked from Cecilia's hand contained something Cecilia could not eat. On their wedding night in the previous life, Eleanor thought only that both of them had grown old and wrinkled. Only now did she fully understand that thirty real years separated them. During those lonely decades, she never bought peanuts because Silas broke out in a rash after eating them. She lived at the edge of the quietest village because he preferred silence during his studies. She even kept his habit of rising before dawn. She feared thirty years would erase his preferences, so she used those routines to remind herself again and again. But Silas had spent those thirty years with Cecilia. He understood Cecilia's habits far better than those of the woman from his past. A bitterness rose in Eleanor's throat, and she put down her fork. "The room feels close. I'm going outside." Silas assumed she remained upset and stood with her. "I'll walk through the shops with you and buy whatever you need." Eleanor hesitated, then nodded. Margaret rarely permitted her to leave the estate. Redstone Territory was dry, windy, and completely unlike warm Vanderwick, so Eleanor needed this opportunity to prepare. The streets were crowded and lively, with Silas always half a step beside her. Whenever her gaze lingered on a shop, he gave the slightest nod. His attendants entered, purchased every object she might have admired, and carried it to the waiting carriage. Jewels, imported cloth, and polished silver passed before her in an endless stream. Eleanor gave them only a distant glance. She no longer held each item against herself or eagerly asked whether he thought it beautiful. Silas studied her peaceful profile and felt an unfamiliar discomfort. He picked up a gold hairpin set with a large pearl. "Try this." Eleanor stepped away. "Not in public. It would be improper." His hand remained suspended. His face revealed nothing, but his lips tightened. He did not begin another conversation for the rest of the street. Then Eleanor entered a fabric shop. Silas stopped and examined the practical items she had selected. A heavy fur coat, a windproof face covering, sturdy leather boots... "Eleanor, why buy cloth this heavy? Vanderwick is warm. Only the Redstone frontier requires things like these." Chapter 3 Eleanor held the supplies, and her fingers stiffened. "They're for Cecilia. She's marrying far from home, so I'm preparing warm things for her." Silas raised an eyebrow, surprise entering his voice. "I thought the two of you had never been close. "After her behavior today, you're not jealous, and you're still buying these?" Eleanor answered calmly, "With the weddings approaching, those small conflicts no longer matter." Silas heard a different meaning. He took the bundle from her arms, gentle and certain. "You've become more thoughtful. "You remember that Cecilia saved my life. Because you love me, you're willing to tolerate her too. Isn't that true?" Something flickered behind Eleanor's eyes, but she offered no explanation. When they separated, Silas wanted to escort her home, but Eleanor invented an excuse. She still needed durable cloth from the west market. Her mother was weak, and ordinary fabric would not survive frontier weather. As she turned the corner, her maid Poppy rushed toward her, stumbling and white-faced. "Miss Eleanor, something terrible has happened. It's your mother..." Eleanor's heart seized, and she ran. She burst into the room and found her mother on the bed, face colorless, lips blue, both hands pressed over her abdomen. "Mother." Eleanor caught her icy hand. "What happened? Where is the physician?" "Where is the physician?" Her voice shook. Poppy dropped beside the bed, crying. "I tried, but Miss Cecilia summoned every household physician and said her old condition had come back. "I finally brought a doctor through the side gate, but Cecilia's servants took him too." Eleanor would not watch her mother die from delayed care a second time. She rose, seized a pair of scissors from the table, and strode out. She rushed into Cecilia's wing, where several doctors stood around the bed examing Cecilia. "Come with me. Someone is dying." Eleanor grabbed one man's sleeve. The older servants swarmed her. During the struggle, the scissors cut her wrist, and blood ran across her hand. She seemed not to feel it and refused to release the physician. Shouting, pleading, and the sounds of bodies pushing together filled the courtyard. After an unknown amount of time, everything became quiet, and the servants opened a path. Eleanor turned and saw Silas approaching quickly. Poppy whispered, "The gate boy was clever enough to call Mr. Wycliffe. He'll protect you now." Whenever Eleanor's mother became ill in earlier years, Silas had arrived with the best physicians and medicine. Eleanor caught his sleeve and relaxed almost instinctively. "Mother's in terrible pain. Send a physician to her now." Silas squeezed her hand reassuringly and ordered, "Go attend her." His guards moved forward with enough authority to clear the way. Then Cecilia appeared, supported by a maid and swaying weakly. "Silas, I know Eleanor is frightened for her mother, but my old injury is unbearable. "A year ago, I dragged you through a frozen mountain after you were wounded and saved your life. "My knees were permanently damaged by the cold. Whenever the weather changes, the pain is excruciating, and the doctors say it'll never heal." She held one knee, staggered, and pleaded, "Please leave the physicians with me." Chapter 4 Silas stopped. After a moment, he turned to Eleanor. "Since Cecilia's treatment has already begun, let the doctors finish. Don't worry too much about your mother. I've sent for one of the royal physicians." Eleanor panicked. "Mother doesn't just look ill. She looks poisoned. She'll be dead before your physician arrives." No matter how she pleaded, Cecilia's servants blocked her, and Silas's guards stood between her and the doctors. "Order them to move." Silas spoke as though soothing an unreasonable child. "You were sensible earlier. Cecilia saved my life. We can't abandon her." Eleanor stared at him, both fists knotted in her skirts, and forced out each word. "What if I told you it was me who saved you?" Silas froze. Cecilia coughed weakly. "Eleanor, fear for your mother doesn't justify a lie like that. The entire household knows I rescued him." The surrounding maids and servants immediately agreed. "That's right. I here helped carry Mr. Wycliffe into the house that day." "Miss Cecilia rewarded every servant with ten silver coins. I remember it perfectly." "She was covered in blood, and her knees were swollen, but she still dragged him home." A helplessness settled over Eleanor that she could not shake off. She had dragged him through the snow. Her knees had been injured. She had nearly frozen to death. But she collapsed the moment she brought him inside, and when she woke, Cecilia was feeding him medicine. Eleanor had never mentioned her own condition because she did not want him to worry, never imagining someone would steal the credit. She opened her mouth and realized she possessed no proof. Silas's expression cooled, disappointment entering his voice. "Eleanor, I dislike liars. There won't be a second warning. "The royal physician is already coming. You..." Before he finished, a guard hurried over and whispered into his ear. Silas's expression sharpened. "The Queen Dowager is ill, so the royal physicians can't leave. He's ordered me to the palace as well." He turned to Cecilia and softened his tone. "Release one doctor to Eleanor. I will repay you generously." Cecilia nodded obediently. Silas looked at Eleanor as though he wanted to speak, but finally turned and left. The moment he disappeared, most of Cecilia's weakness vanished, replaced by triumph and contempt. "Do you see? Silas believes me. As long as I hold the debt of saving his life, I can control him forever. If I refuse a physician and your mother dies in bed, he'll blame you for delaying treatment. "But perhaps I'll spare one doctor if you beg me and make me satisfie." Eleanor's nails cut into her palms as she walked away quickly. "There's no need." She had been deceived too many times. Every time, she knelt and begged, yet her mother's treatment was delayed and her father never cared. Silas had once known her whole history and sworn that no one would ever deceive or harm her again. Today, he believed someone else. When Eleanor returned to the small wing, her mother's face had already turned gray. Grinding her teeth, she found paper and wrote a letter in desperation. Using her future title as General Harcourt's wife, she begged Dr. Amos Wilder, the physician retained at Harcourt Residence in Vanderwick, to come. She pawned every jewel Silas had given her and all the embroidery she had made over the years, using the money to purchase rare medicine. After hours of desperate work, Dr. Wilder stabilized Harriet's pulse near midnight. Color slowly returned to Harriet's face, and her breathing became steady. Relief overwhelmed Eleanor, and she fell asleep beside the bed. Splash. A basin of cold water struck her, and she woke violently. Before Eleanor could react, two women dragged her by the arms into the main hall. Her father and Cecilia stood there, and with them stood Silas. His face was white with fury. He held an embroidered handkerchief, and a box at his feet contained every gift he had bought her. Margaret shrieked, "These are all courtship gifts from Mr. Wycliffe, yet Eleanor gave them away while conducting an affair and sent her personal embroidery to another man. How could a woman like this marry into the Wycliffe family?" Chapter 5 Silas stared at her. "Eleanor, I want an explanation." She started to answer, then saw her father deliberately glance toward the door. Her heart sank. That morning, she had used the Harcourt name to arrange her mother's departure. If anyone discovered her contact with the Harcourt family, the exchanged marriage would be exposed and her mother would remain trapped. She lowered her eyes and forced her voice to remain calm. "I wasn't meeting anyone. I sold them to pay for Mother's medicine." Disappointment and fury churned in Silas's eyes as though she had told an absurd joke. "You pawned them? Do you think I'm some green boy you can talk in circles? "You treasured everything I gave you. You embroidered handkerchiefs and purses only for people close to you." Before meeting him, she sold embroidery to support herself, but stopped afterward. Silas appeared restrained and distant, but was possessive enough to hate seeing anything made by her on another person. During the thirty years of her previous life, Eleanor carried bodies for local officials and washed clothes through winter until her hands split. Selling embroidery had been the most respectable work she found. "No answer?" Silas's jaw tightened. "Do you understand what an accusation of improper relations means? "Under the law, you'll be punished heavily. Our engagement could also end immediately." Eleanor only shook her head and remained silent. Cecilia moved closer. "Silas, Eleanor has hurt you. Let me discipline her for you." Edwin added coldly, "The girl's unfit for Mr. Wycliffe. We should replace her in the match openly." Eleanor closed her eyes and waited for punishment, but a warm hand steadied her arm. Silas wrapped his dark coat around her soaked shoulders, his voice hard. "Take my future wife inside and give her dry clothes. Prepare the carriage for the royal banquet." Everyone froze, and Eleanor looked at him in disbelief. Silas avoided her gaze and looked instead at Cecilia when she tried to interfere. "She's under my protection. I decide what happens to her. "No one in the Kingdom has authority to challenge my decision." An hour later, Eleanor sat inside the carriage in clean clothing with her hair arranged again. They traveled toward the palace. She finally asked, "Why?" Silas rested with his eyes closed and did not answer. After they arrived, he never spoke directly to her, yet remained as attentive as always. He took her hand and seated her in the honored gallery beside him, where officials bowed to them together. When a careless attendant rushed too close, Silas pulled her safely against his side. He had cold wine removed from her place and replaced with hot tea. Something rose in Eleanor that she could not name. Silas ordinarily tolerated no stain on trust and never let a suspected betrayal pass. Yet he forced down his anger and behaved as though nothing had happened. Perhaps he truly meant what he said in the previous life. Perhaps he wanted to compensate her. As the thought formed, every candle in the banquet hall went dark. Guests cried out, guards shouted to protect the King, and even the King turned pale. Only Silas remained composed. He walked slowly to the platform and ordered the candles relit. He closed his eyes, meditated, and then spoke calmly. "Do not be afraid. Someone carrying a destructive fate entered this gathering and disturbed the harmony of the palace." No one dared breathe as every face turned toward Silas. Eleanor suddenly felt dread. Chapter 6 As expected, Silas opened his eyes and looked past everyone directly at Eleanor. "She is the source," he said calmly. "She was born under a solitary star that destroys family and self. Her presence disrupted the fortunate signs surrounding the King." It was exactly the judgment from her previous life. The guests reacted at once. "A ruinous star? Then surely Mr. Wycliffe must end the engagement." "I've heard people with that fate destroy everyone who comes near them." People moved away from Eleanor as though avoiding disease, leaving a wide empty circle around her. She drew a breath and defended herself. "I wasn't born cursed. Ask any other qualified seer if you doubt me." Someone laughed coldly. "Mr. Wycliffe is the greatest seer in the Kingdom. How could he be wrong?" Silas sighed suddenly, his voice mixing helplessness with devotion. "Eleanor is the woman I love. I can't bring myself to give her up. "I will transfer part of my own fortune to dissolve the curse, but she must endure purification to wash away the corruption." "However," he continued, "even after purification, some danger will remain. "No one except me should become close to her. Those with weaker charts may suffer illness or even death." A gasp went through the room. Eleanor went cold while Silas appeared righteous and deeply loving. Once the judgment spread, she would never again be treated as human. She tried to protest, but attendants forced her from the hall, unwilling to touch her and pushing her forward from a distance. For the next three days, she was locked inside a freezing wing and secured in a massive stone bathing trough. The trough was filled with ice water and bitter herbs while attendants scrubbed her skin with rough brushes. They concentrated especially on her hands. They pierced her fingertips with fine needles and squeezed out blood they called contaminated. Each time, pain and cold drove her unconscious. When she next surfaced from the darkness, someone was gently working ointment into her torn fingertips. Silas spoke in a low voice. "No more immersion tomorrow. The wedding is close. Return her to Pembroke Residence. "Did you resolve the issues on the royal banquet?" A guard answered, "Yes. Do you still want the story about your future wife's cursed birth spread publicly?" "Continue." Silas's tone was calm. "Spread it as widely as possible. Let everyone know." The guard hesitated. "Her reputation will be destroyed." "I understand what I'm doing." Silas paused. "After this, no one except me will dare approach her." Pain entered Eleanor's chest. He had done it deliberately. He wanted the whole world to reject her so she would have nowhere except his side. She refused to live that life again. Silas personally carried her home, and she opened her eyes only after he placed her on the bed. He tucked the blanket around her and said with gentle seriousness, "Don't be afraid. I handled what happened at the palace. "Once you marry me tomorrow, the servants won't dare speak against you. Stay beside me, and I will never let anyone hurt you." Eleanor turned her face away. Silas assumed she was sulking, sighed, patted her shoulder, and left. Before dawn the next morning, Eleanor changed into the bridal dress and slipped into Cecilia's carriage through the side gate. The carriage had barely lifted when hoofbeats sounded outside. "Wait." It was Silas. Eleanor's heart tightened, and her fingers closed around her sleeve. Through a gap in the curtain, she saw him mounted in a formal black wedding coat with several guards behind him. He bowed toward the carriage. "Miss Cecilia, I can never repay the debt of you saving my life. Since you marry today, I came to add a gift to your settlement." A guard carried forward a velvet box and passed it through the small window. Eleanor knew Silas believed she was Cecilia. She did not risk speaking and only nodded. Morning light outlined the blurred figure inside the carriage, and Silas suddenly felt it was familiar. Unease moved through him, and he opened his mouth. "Mr. Wycliffe, the appointed hour is near. You must collect your own bride," the ceremony official urged. Silas suppressed the feeling and smiled. "Take care. I hope the two of you grow old together." He turned his horse and rode away. Eleanor watched the dark figure disappear around the corner and lowered the curtain. "Please go quickly." The old life was finished. She was traveling toward a new place and a new lifetime.