Chapter 3: Love Each Other

Isolde stood in the corridor's shadow outside the main hall, hearing voices from within. “Matilda, you’re Eleanor’s aunt. I leave this matter to you. My mother wishes to settle Eleanor and William’s marriage before my father returns to the Royal Court.” The speaker was Agnes Valen, William’s sister and Lord Felton’s wife. Isolde could never forget that voice, not in ten lifetimes. Matilda offered a gracious smile. “Oh, Lady Felton, you’re too kind. For Eleanor to marry into the Marquis’s estate is a great blessing. I will ensure it happens.” A cold smile played on Isolde’s lips. Before her time travel, she hadn’t heard these words. She’d foolishly believed everyone acted in her best interests, that such was the virtue of noblewomen.

Drawing a deep breath, she entered the hall. Her eyes immediately found William. The cruel visage from her memory flashed before her—her tearful pleas, kneeling on the cold ground, the blinding fire, Lady Prudence Blackwell’s stony face. The memories overwhelmed her, choking her with bitterness. William turned, startled by her presence. He’d seen her only twice before—garish in red and green, gold ornaments glittering in her hair, her painted face more frightening than beautiful. Today, simply dressed, she was a vision of quiet beauty.

“Isolde, you’re just in time!” Matilda called warmly, her satin gown embroidered with curling vines, her demeanor gentle as she beckoned Isolde closer. Isolde’s gaze moved past William to Eleanor. Eleanor’s pale cheeks were stained with shame, her reddened eyes brimming with tears. She wore a white gown delicately embroidered with green bamboo at the cuffs, her frail form trembling. She glanced at Isolde, then dropped her gaze, her tears falling harder. William took her hand and spoke softly. “Do not fret, Eleanor. I am here.” Eleanor’s lips quivered, a shy blush blooming on her cheeks as she leaned into him, her movements soft and demure. Isolde watched with icy detachment. A perfect pair—what envy they must inspire.

Agnes turned to Isolde with feigned warmth. “Isolde, I trust you know why we’re here. Your mother always said you were gracious and understanding. You and Eleanor are cousins, after all. Surely you will honor that bond and allow her to join the household.” Isolde seated herself calmly. Agnes, resplendent in crimson silk and golden embroidery, pearls and jade gleaming in her hair, radiated haughty elegance. Isolde’s voice was smooth but pointed. “And what matter might that be? I seem to know nothing of it.” Matilda’s smile tightened. “Isolde, do not play coy. Eleanor is carrying William’s child. She must be brought into the family.”

“Is that so?” Isolde’s sharp gaze shifted to Eleanor. “Is it true?” Eleanor’s cheeks burned crimson, and she whispered tearfully, “Isolde… forgive me. We… we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Couldn’t help yourselves? Isolde’s voice cut like frost. “In Windermount, we call that disgraceful conduct. Such offenses are dealt with by drowning.”

“Mind your words!” Matilda snapped. “Eleanor and William have long loved each other. If not for your interference, they would already be wed.”

“Love, is it?” Isolde turned her glare on William. “Then why agree to marry me? Your so-called love reeks of nothing more than base indulgence.” William’s face darkened. “Watch your tongue! No respectable woman would speak so shamelessly. Have you no dignity?”

Isolde laughed, cold and bitter. “Dignity? At least I haven’t brought shame on my family with a bastard child. Perhaps such behavior is acceptable here in the capital, but in my lands, we call people like you adulterers.”

Matilda blanched. “Isolde! Such vulgar words do not befit a daughter of the Duke’s house!”

“Vulgar? You’ve yet to hear me call her what she truly is—a whore.”

Eleanor’s sobs broke the silence. “Isolde, I know you won’t forgive me. I cannot live with such disgrace. I’d rather die here and now.” She stumbled toward a pillar. William sprang after her, catching her wrist. “Eleanor, no! Ignore her. I swear I will marry you.”

“No, William!” Eleanor wailed. “Let me go! I’ll take our child with me to the grave!”

Matilda turned on Isolde furiously. “Look at what you’ve done! Apologize to her right now!”

Isolde’s voice was sharp and unwavering. “Apologize? For what? Am I the one carrying a bastard? Am I the one who brought shame to my name? No—she hardly deserves an apology.” She rose, striding before Eleanor. Leaning in, her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Didn’t you say you’d die? Then do it.”

Eleanor sobbed harder, clinging to William. “William, let me go! Please, let me go…” William’s face twisted with rage. He raised his hand to strike Isolde. Isolde caught his wrist, twisting sharply to send him stumbling backward. He glared at her, stunned. Isolde stepped before him, her expression cold and unyielding as she glared at Eleanor. “Well? No one’s holding you back now. Go ahead—die if you must!”

Eleanor froze, staring at her in shock. “What are you waiting for?” Isolde’s voice rose to a sharp roar, jolting Eleanor into uncontrollable sobs. “Why are you doing this to me, Isolde?” Eleanor wept, her voice shaking with hurt. “If I’ve done wrong, you can scold me or strike me—but must you go this far? Why treat me with such cruelty?”

Isolde’s response was swift—she slapped Eleanor repeatedly until the girl’s cries faltered. Then she stopped, her voice low and merciless. “You wanted me to hit you? Then I’ll grant your wish.”

Humiliated, Eleanor collapsed, feigning unconsciousness. Matilda hurried to her side, anger darkening her features. “Isolde Langley!” she thundered. “You are a lady of the Duke’s estate, yet you act like a common savage. To strike someone publicly—have you no respect for me, your own mother?”

Isolde’s reply was scathing. “Respect for you? Do you even regard me as your daughter? You side with these disgraceful people against me, yet dare call yourself a mother?”

Agnes shot to her feet, her face ashen with fury. “If you cannot bear Eleanor’s presence, then this engagement ends here. The Estate of Eldermere will not tolerate such vulgarity. To think we would wed my son to a woman so coarse of tongue and temper—it is unthinkable. I’ll have the betrothal contract returned at once. William, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, cancel the engagement!” William said eagerly, seizing the opportunity. He had never wanted the match. As the commotion unfolded, Isolde’s sharp eyes flickered to Eleanor, who had “fainted.” She saw her eyes snap open for a moment, a spark of triumph glimmering within them.

“Wait!” Isolde’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension.