Chapter 2: Signs of Devotion
After finishing her breakfast, Eleanor prepared for the day ahead, standing in front of the tall mirror in her room. Her dark, slightly wavy hair framed her delicate face, and her sharp amber eyes stood out against her fair, pale skin. Bruises covered her slender body; they were a result of her fencing classes and, in a way, made her feel tougher than she is. Eleanor always preferred wearing oversized clothes to hide her figure, and this morning was no different.
She pulled on her favorite thick-knit black sweater, its loose sleeves engulfing her hands, and paired it with black denim pants. Over this, she draped a long, heavy wool coat that provided both warmth and a comforting sense of concealment. A black scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, and gloves completed her winter-ready ensemble.
Satisfied with her practical layers, Eleanor grabbed her boots and headed downstairs, ready to face whatever Julian had planned.
Descending from the grand staircase towards the driveway, she found Julian waiting outside by the car, his posture as impeccable as ever. He offered a polite nod, his expression revealing nothing of the day's plans.
"Ready, Miss Sweeting?" he inquired.
“Lead the way, Julian” Eleanor replied with a small smile, stepping into the warmth of the car. Julian closed the door carefully before moving to the driver’s side and sliding in with practiced ease.
The car rumbled to life, and they set off, the towering silhouette of the Sweeting mansion shrinking behind them as they merged into the trees. The landscape shifted quickly—patches of meadow swallowed by thick groves of pine and oak, the trees leaning in as if eavesdropping. Eleanor gazed out the window, her thoughts wandering with the steady growl of the engine and the flicker of sun through the branches.
Nearly an hour later after driving in silence, Julian turned onto an unmarked dirt path veiled by hanging branches. The tires crunched over gravel and old roots as they descended deeper into the woods, where the light grew dimmer and the air cooler.
Finally, the car halted in a narrow clearing, “We’ve arrived,” Julian announced, stepping out swiftly. He moved to Eleanor’s side, opening her door with the same courtesy as before.
Eleanor stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. The air was cool and damp, tinged with the scent of pine and earth. A faint mist clung to the forest floor, curling around her ankles like smoke. Before them stretched a grove of towering oaks, their branches arched overhead creating a dome. The ground was thick with moss and fallen leaves, muffling her footsteps as they moved forward.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, Eleanor began to notice signs of something older. Half-buried statues emerged from the underbrush—stone figures with faded features, their surfaces worn smooth by rain and time. Some stood crooked but tall, like silent watchers; others had fallen, swallowed by roots and rot. Crumbling stone walls hinted at the outline of a forgotten structure, its purpose long lost to the forest. The grove felt solemn, almost reverent—like the trees remembered what once stood here, and mourned it still.
Eleanor stopped before one of the statues, her fingers brushing lightly against its worn surface. “What is this place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Julian stood beside her, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. “Little is known of it,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. “It seems to have been a small mausoleum, built as a token of love.”
Eleanor turned to him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Love?”
He nodded, his gaze shifting to a crumbled pillar nearby. “Some believe that a man constructed this place for his wife. He commissioned statues of her favorite figures and created a sanctuary here to honor her memory. When his time came, he chose to be buried beside her.”
A small smile touched Eleanor’s lips. “That’s beautiful... and tragic. To build something like this out of love, only for it to be forgotten.”
“Tragedy and love often walk hand in hand,” Julian remarked, his tone neutral. “But even in abandonment, there’s a certain... endurance. It remains, despite everything.”
Eleanor let her hand fall from the statue, her eyes scanning the ruins. “It’s comforting, in a way. A reminder that things can live on, even after loss.”
Julian watched her quietly, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps that is why you’re drawn to places like this.”
They continued walking through the grove, stepping onto the moss and damp earth beneath them. Eleanor marveled at the silence that wrapped the forest—broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant trill of a bird hidden in the canopy. The cool air kissed her skin, leaving her cheeks flushed, but she felt a quiet warmth settling in her chest. It was as if the grove itself remembered the hands that once shaped it—carrying, even now, a soft echo of the love that had lived and lingered here.
As they returned to the car, Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at the grove one last time. “Thank you, Julian. I loved this.”
He inclined his head slightly. “I’m glad it pleased you, Miss Sweeting.”
The drive back was quiet. Eleanor stared out the window, her mind lingering on the statues and the mausoleum’s story. She didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and neither did Julian. With him, silence was comfortable—a space that didn’t demand explanation or effort.
When they pulled into the driveway of the mansion, the first faint glow of sunlight welcomed them back. Julian exited the car first, opening her door with his usual precision.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Sweeting,” he said, stepping aside as she moved toward the house.
Eleanor smiled faintly. “I will. Thank you, Julian.”
The low hum of the car’s engine signaled Julian and Eleanor’s return. By the time the vehicle pulled into the circular driveway, Teddy was already waiting at the door, grinning like a fox ready to pounce.
“Welcome back, Ellie!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing as Eleanor stepped out of the car. “You’re just in time! We’ve got a couple of hours before dinner, which means it’s the perfect time to binge-watch Thousand Years of Love! I’ve got the first season queued up!”
Eleanor rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re relentless, Teddy.”
“Relentlessly fun!” he replied, glancing at Julian. “You’re invited too, Juls. I know you secretly love this masterpiece of romance and fantasy.”
Julian’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Masterpiece" is a generous term, Thaddeus. That show is an insult to intelligence.”
“Oh, lighten up,” Teddy retorted as they walked inside. “It’s fun. Try it sometimes.”
Julian and Teddy’s voices echoed through the grand hall as Eleanor excused herself to change out of her outdoor clothes. By the time she returned, their argument had escalated.
“I’m just saying,” Teddy argued, flopping dramatically onto one of the plush chairs in the sitting room, “you can’t call it bad until you’ve actually watched it!”
Julian stood by the mantle, his arms crossed in that infuriatingly composed way of his. “I’ve seen enough to know it’s drivel. The premise alone is absurd.”
“The premise is brilliant!” Teddy shot back. “A thousand-year-old vampire falls in love with a human girl—what’s not to love?”
Julian’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Everything.”
Before Teddy could retort, Alistair stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. His sharp black eyes gleamed with mild amusement as he took in the scene. “What’s all this commotion about?”
Eleanor chuckled, settling into her spot on the sofa with an eager glint in her eye. “Teddy and I are watching Thousand Years of Love again. Julian’s less than thrilled, but honestly, I think it’s a masterpiece.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “That saccharine disaster of a show? The dialogue alone is enough to cause physical pain.”
“Thank you!” Julian said, gesturing toward Alistair.
Teddy leaned back with a smug grin. “And yet, here we all are, talking about it. Sounds like it’s got a staying power.”
Alistair sighed dramatically, turning to Eleanor. “Miss Sweeting, would you like any snacks while you endure this?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I’m fine, Alistair, thank you.”
With that, Julian exhaled sharply, muttering something about wasted hours as he strode toward the door. Eleanor and Teddy settled onto the sofa, the first episode beginning as Alistair disappeared back into the kitchen.
The cheesy music swelled as the protagonist—a brooding vampire with perfect hair—appeared on screen. Teddy was immediately engrossed, grinning and gasping at every twist, while Eleanor leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She loved this series. It was absurd, over-the-top, and completely addictive. The kind of thing she could lose herself in without needing to think too much.
“It’s so romantic,” she sighed, clutching a pillow. “A love that transcends time and tragedy. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“And the vampire is so dreamy!” Teddy added, pointing at the screen as the vampire delivered a tortured monologue.
Halfway through the episode, Teddy’s gaze flicked toward the hallway. His grin widened mischievously. “Julian! I see you lurking. You love this show, don’t you?”
“I am not lurking,” Julian said, stepping fully into the room with a scowl. “And no, I do not love it.”
“Oh, come on,” Teddy teased. “Admit it. You’re invested in the vampire’s tragic backstory.”
Julian, standing stiffly in the corner, pinched the bridge of his nose. “This show is an affront to both time and tragedy.”
Eleanor giggled, completely caught up in the vampire’s overly dramatic declaration of love. “Oh, come on, Julian. Don’t tell me you’ve lost all sense of romance.”
Still smiling from the playful exchange, she turned to Julian with a twinkle in her eye. “Since you’re here, could you please ask Alistair to bring us some snacks?”
Julian sighed heavily. “Very well.” He disappeared into the hall, returning moments later with Alistair, who carried himself into the room with the grace of someone vastly above it all.
“What snacks shall I make, Miss Sweeting?” Alistair asked, his tone as polished as ever.
“I trust your judgment, Alistair,” she said, turning her look towards him.
“And cookies!” Teddy added enthusiastically, grinning at him.
Eleanor chuckled softly, catching the energy. “And lemonade, please.”
Alistair nodded, his gaze briefly flicking to Julian, who stood there with a noticeable frown, without missing a beat, he poured him a generous glass of whiskey from a nearby decanter. The motion was so fluid and seamless that Julian didn’t even notice until the glass was in his hand.
“Thank you,” Julian said automatically, raising the glass to his lips.
Teddy snickered. “Smooth as ever, Alistair.”
Alistair gave a faint smirk. “I do try.” He left the room to fetch snacks, his absence leaving the three of them in an awkward sort of triangle: Eleanor engrossed in the show, Teddy fully immersed, and Julian sipping his whiskey with quiet disapproval.
When Alistair returned with an assortment of snacks—Chocolate chip cookies, buttery popcorn and a chilled pitcher of lemonade—he paused in the doorway, his dark eyes gleaming with faint amusement. “I’m surprised to see you still here, Julian. I thought this series offended your senses.”
“It does,” Julian replied curtly.
“Then why are you watching?” Teddy asked, barely suppressing a laugh.
Julian’s only response was a sharp grunt before he stood, clearly fed up. “I’ll leave you to your... enjoyment.”
As Julian stalked out, Teddy and Eleanor burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the room.
“Finally,” Teddy said, wiping his eyes. “Now we can watch in peace.”
Dinner would be ready by 6 p.m., but for now, Eleanor was content. Between Teddy’s infectious energy and the cheesy romance of the series, the day already felt lighter than she had expected.
As the afternoon wore on, Eleanor and Teddy stayed glued to the screen, engrossed in the increasingly absurd plot twists of their loved series. Meanwhile, Alistair returned to the bustling kitchen, where the staff were diligently working under his quiet but exacting supervision. The clatter of pots and pans mingled with the faint aroma of roasted vegetables, fresh herbs, and rich sauces simmering on the stove.
Alistair moved through the chaos like a conductor leading an orchestra, issuing sharp yet measured instructions that the staff executed without hesitation. His attention to detail extended beyond the kitchen, as he directed preparations for the grand dining room.
“Polish the candlesticks until they gleam,” he instructed a maid with a pointed look. “And ensure the china is set perfectly—no fingerprints, no misaligned plates.”
One of the gardeners entered, holding a vibrant bouquet of roses in full bloom. “From the garden,” he said, setting the flowers carefully on the table. Their deep crimson petals seemed to glow against the light streaming through the windows.
Alistair’s gaze lingered on the roses, his expression unreadable. They were undeniably perfect—rich in color, delicately formed, and utterly flawless. As much as it pained him to admit it, they were a testament to Teddy’s skill in the garden, as he was in charge of it.
The only tolerable thing about Teddy, Alistair thought bitterly, is his ability to coax beauty from the soil.
Still, knowing that the flowers might draw a compliment during his meticulously crafted dinner was an irritation Alistair could barely stomach. Yet, their beauty was undeniable. The crimson roses, deep and velvety, stood as the centerpiece of the garden’s offerings, but they were not alone. Teddy’s efforts had yielded a surprising array of winter blooms: elegant white snowdrops, their delicate petals drooping like tiny bells; pale lavender hellebores; and clusters of fragrant witch hazel, their bright yellow tendrils like tiny bursts of sunshine against the gray of the season.
With a faint sigh, Alistair gestured toward the arrangements being laid out across the dining room. “Use all of them,” he said coolly, his tone carrying an air of resigned authority. “Every vase, every corner—make it dramatic. If nothing else, they’ll distract from the company.”
The staff moved swiftly, arranging the flowers with precision. The crimson roses dominated the centerpieces, their bold color drawing the eye immediately. Around them, the hellebores were woven with care, Snowdrops were scattered in smaller vases along the length of the table, Witch hazel sprigs were artfully placed at the ends of the arrangements. The result was a winter wonderland of elegance, perfectly complementing the pristine white tablecloth and gleaming silverware.
Alistair stepped back, surveying the finished room with a critical eye. Despite the irritation of having to use Teddy’s work, he couldn’t deny the effect. The flowers elevated the atmosphere, making the dining room look as though it belonged to royalty rather than a grieving family in an empty mansion.
He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as the table had taken shape. Every detail was coming together flawlessly—just as he intended. With the flowers placed, their rich colors providing the perfect accent to the pristine white china and gleaming silverware, Alistair returned to the kitchen to resume his work.
Disclaimer:
All characters, events, and content in this chapter are the original creations of Natalie Hunt. All rights are reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, distributed, or adapted in any form without explicit written permission.