Eleanor
How could I possibly sleep, when everything is pressing in on my mind like this? The evidence, the man in the cloak, and now the matter of Lord Alexander's journey—he'll be gone for three weeks, and I won't see him at all. How long can I endure this turmoil inside me, with so many questions left unanswered?
I tossed and turned restlessly, curling up and pulling the soft goose-feather pillow over my head in a futile attempt to force myself to sleep. But the more I twisted about, the more my mind grew agitated. The questions in my thoughts simply refused to settle. I needed the truth; it wasn't in my nature to simply wait and be patient like this.
Last night, I never got a chance to ask Lillian what I'd intended. She had complained of dizziness and gone to her room before dusk, leaving Agatha to look after me in her stead. So my frustrations remained unresolved, just as before.
I sat up abruptly. 'I'm so thirsty.' My throat felt parched in the middle of the night, so I got up to pour myself some water from the jug Agatha had set on the little round table. I drained the glass in one go, but the thirst persisted. When I tried to pour another, I found the jug empty. The only solution was to go down to the kitchen and refill it myself.
I tried lifting the heavy silver jug, bracing it against my stomach for support, but my body was too slight and delicate to haul such weight, so I decided to leave it in my room and make do with a cup from the kettle in the kitchen.
The moment I stepped out into the corridor, I heard faint voices drifting down the hallway on the second floor.
"Why won't you believe me? He's a murderer, I'm certain of it. You have to believe me," said a man's voice, coming from one of the rooms.
"I don't know the truth of that, but I do believe His Grace would never kill Lady Chelsea! The autopsy proved it!" Lillian's voice snapped back, her words tense and uneasy.
'Those two are secretly talking about something deadly serious again,' I thought, but this time there seemed to be more substance to it than before—enough that I could scarcely believe my own ears.
'Is that man accusing Lord Alexander of being a murderer?'
The two of them were hiding inside somewhere in the house, their conversation slipping out through the cracks in the darkness. I crept after the sounds, following them down the dim hallway until I realized they were coming from the guest chamber Lillian had taken as her own for the time being. I pressed my ear against the edge of the door, straining to catch every word they said.
'He—that must mean His Grace. So the person I've been warned about, the one who wants to kill me, is Lord Alexander? Or does it mean I should watch myself after we're wed?'
'Is that why he's not recorded in the family annals—because he's a murderer? No, Ellie, you mustn't jump to wild conclusions. You need proof before you panic.'
'But wait… who is Lady Chelsea, and what is her connection to Lord Alexander?'
I forced myself to focus, to listen more closely.
"If you won't do as I say, I'll tell her the truth myself," the man said, voice steely.
"No, Leo! I can't let you do that. You'll be putting yourself in danger. My lord will never forgive you if you break his orders again. Please, don't pit yourself against him," Lillian pleaded, but her voice was met with silence—Leo must have slipped away already. Perhaps he climbed in through the window, explaining how he comes and goes so mysteriously. So this man's name was Leo, if I hadn't misheard.
I retreated to my own room to collect myself, trying to make sense of what I'd just heard. I gazed out my window, searching for this Leo, but outside was nothing but darkness—not even the silhouettes of flowers in the garden were visible.
'If Lord Alexander really is a murderer, I should be on my guard. And how does Lady Chelsea fit into all of this? Is she the woman Lillian mentioned—the former lover who betrayed him, whom he killed out of rage? Is that what happened? And what does the emerald-green dress have to do with this? That dress is here, in this house, so perhaps Lady Chelsea once lived here—and she must have been a Lady, from the way they referred to her.'
Everything was starting to connect: Leo's warning, the green dress that incited Lord Alexander's anger, the mysterious Lady Chelsea, the rumors of his heartbreak and betrayal. All of it was weaving together into a single thread. Yet one thing still made no sense: I had never harmed him, so why would he wish me dead?
Knock, knock, knock!
A sound broke my train of thought. I glanced at the door, half-expecting Lillian to enter, but there was no sign of anyone.
'Where is that sound coming from?'
I glanced around, then heard the knocking again.
Knock, knock, knock!
I spun towards the window. The sound was coming from the balcony. Looking closely, I saw the figure of a man in a dark cloak standing outside my bedroom window, motioning for me to open it. Leo must have come to fulfill his promise to tell me the truth.
"Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want?" I asked, feigning ignorance, unwilling to open the window for a stranger at this hour.
"My lady, please, open the window. There are things you must know."
"Who are you? Give me your name, right now." I demanded again, noting how he evaded giving it.
"You needn't know who I am—just heed my warning."
"How do I know you won't harm me? You're acting like a thief!"
"Please, my lady, believe me. I mean you no harm," he pleaded.
Creeeak…
The door behind me opened, cutting the conversation short. Lillian rushed in, looking stricken as she caught sight of Leo at the window.
"My lady, I must go. If you wish to know the truth about your past, seek out Lydia Fairchild. She works at The Boar's Head pub in Piccadilly, not far from Devonshire House. Farewell." With that, he vanished into the night.
"My lady, are you all right? What did Leo say to you—?" Lillian blurted, unable to stop herself from naming him—though I'd already learned his name by eavesdropping earlier.
"You know that man in the cloak, don't you?" I pressed her.
"Y-yes, my lady."
"Who is he? Why did you lie and claim he was a stranger before?"
"M-my lady…" she stammered.
"I'm sorry for deceiving you. I only wanted to spare you more pain."
I arched a brow. "What is it? Please, tell me the whole truth. What is Leo's connection to my past?"
Her face drained of color as she came over and grasped my hands tightly in hers.
"I'm sorry I lied, my lady. In truth, the man you saw is my twin brother."
I was shocked—I had no idea she had a sibling, let alone a twin. And why would he accuse Lord Alexander of murder?
She led me to sit in the nearest chair, kneeling on the floor and holding my hands.
"My twin brother's name is Leopold Woodward, my lady. We both once served in this house. Lady Vivienne took us in as children of five, giving us a home, food, and an education. She entrusted us with the care of her daughter."
"So why is he no longer working here?"
She looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, my lady, but my lord forbade me from speaking of the past."
'So Father knows everything, then.'
"Is he connected to this Lady Chelsea?"
Lillian's eyes widened in alarm at the name.
"How did you know that name, my lady? Did Leo tell you?"
"Yes, I heard it from him. Please, tell me the truth. I promise I won't become as I was before—I've changed."
She seemed to consider this.
"What's the point in keeping secrets now, when I know so much already, and my life is in danger? The one Leo warned me about… it is Lord Alexander, isn't it?" I asked her directly.
"I—I will tell you everything, my lady. But please, promise me you won't hurt yourself again."
"Why would I do such a thing?"
"It's nothing, my lady…" Her words sounded suspicious.
"Leo was Lady Chelsea's personal attendant. Lady Chelsea was your elder sister, who died eleven years ago. She was once engaged to His Grace as well."
"What!?" I was stunned. Lord Alexander had once been betrothed to my sister? How did I end up as his fiancée, too? None of it made sense.
"Yes, my lady. When my brother and I first came here, Leo and Lady Chelsea became close friends as children, and their intimacy later became the subject of rumors. Because of their closeness, people whispered about an affair while she was engaged to His Grace."
"So Lord Alexander killed her out of jealousy when he learned of this—was Leo warning me because my fiancé is a murderer who killed my sister?"
"That… I cannot say, my lady. Leo and Lady Chelsea were close, but I never believed there was anything improper between them. I never saw her favor any man. As for her death, I know only that she died suddenly of illness. The autopsy said she died of malnutrition, but there were rumors His Grace forced her to drink poison as punishment."
"I see," I nodded.
This truth brought no conclusions—only rumors, and Lillian's account was only hearsay. But at least I understood the root of Lord Alexander's coldness—because I was the sister of the woman who had betrayed him.
"The green dress you had me wear to visit Lord Alexander—that was my sister's dress, wasn't it?"
"Why do you ask that, my lady?"
"At the garden, he mentioned it."
"I—I suppose it must have been Lady Chelsea's. I'm sorry if I gave it to you by mistake."
'She's lying. I can tell Lillian deliberately meant for me to wear that dress, perhaps to test if my memory had returned.'
"So that's why Lord Alexander lost his temper. He must truly hate my sister."
"I don't know what happened between them, my lady. Lady Chelsea lived at Chatsworth for most of her engagement. Her grave is in Derby."
"Then I suppose I must ask Leo."
"I doubt he can tell you much more. He was forbidden to serve Lady Chelsea in Derby, as His Grace William disliked her having a male attendant."
"His Grace William, the sixth Duke of Devonshire?"
"Yes. His Grace William was His Grace Alexander's brother by blood, but he died of illness nine years ago."
'Wait… the records say William Cavendish, sixth Duke, didn't die in 1838, but in 1858. Is this a different world from the one I left? No, Ellie, hold on—history is often written in error. What I'm experiencing now could simply be a truth distorted by time.'
"It's strange that so many people fell ill around that time."
Thinking back to the years 1837–1838, there were indeed many deadly illnesses in England: smallpox, influenza, measles, whooping cough in children, and tuberculosis was probably the worst of all. But none of that explained why there was a Duke named Alexander in the Cavendish family. Traditionally, the Dukedom of Devonshire had always passed from William Cavendish the first to his descendants—always the eldest son named William. The seventh Duke, too, was called William, but was not a direct heir; he inherited from another branch of the family because the sixth Duke had no children. The historical records say Her Grace Georgiana Spencer, the first wife of the fifth Duke, had only one son.
"I've heard from His Grace William's attendants who once visited us that he suffered from a strange illness from birth. But Lady Chelsea's death was more unusual than anyone's. She died in a manner that seemed almost unnatural."
"Unnatural? In what way?" This was starting to feel like a mystery—a supernatural occurrence that might tie into my own journey across worlds.
"I only know so much, my lady. The rest, I cannot say."
"Thank you for telling me. I promise, there's no need to worry I'll harm myself again. I'm not the person you once knew—believe me."
"I'm glad to hear it, my lady. If you are at peace, then I can be at ease seeing you wed to His Grace."
'So that was it. She feared I would be devastated to learn of Lord Alexander's engagement to my sister, and the rumors of his guilt—that's why she tried to hide the truth and was so uneasy about the marriage.'
"Thank you, Lillian, for always taking care of me."
She smiled.
"It's very late, my lady. Please, get some rest. And… may I ask permission to go into town tomorrow morning? I need to fetch yeast from the brewery so Mrs. Barker can bake loaves for the coming week."
"Of course. When will you go?"
"Around eleven o'clock, my lady."
"Then please ask Agatha to prepare the afternoon tea set in the garden for me."
"Yes, my lady."
October 31st, 1847
It was now 11:03 a.m. Lillian had left the house about fifteen minutes ago, so I saw it as the perfect opportunity to sneak into her bedroom and search for the key that would unlock the sealed room. I was convinced it was Lady Chelsea's room, not Lady Vivienne's as Lillian once claimed. The same went for the room on the third floor—there had to be some hidden truth inside, something about Lady Chelsea's death that Lord Barnett was intent on keeping secret.
I opened every drawer in the room and searched every corner of the mattress in detail, hoping to find the key hidden somewhere. But I found nothing. There were two other places it could be: Lillian's quarters in the servants' wing, or the pocket of her apron, which she always wore at her waist. It was possible she took it with her, but I thought it unlikely she'd risk carrying it out of the house.
There was nowhere left to search in this room, which held little furniture as it was only meant for temporary guests. My next option was to sneak into her servants' quarters.
As I descended the stairs to the first floor, I came across Agatha dusting the brass lion statue by the main entrance. She turned and greeted me cheerfully, her demeanor bright and lively.
"Good morning, my lady."
"Good morning. Is the tea set and pastries ready yet?"
Agatha seemed a bit flustered. In fact, she still had half an hour until tea time, but I needed to pressure her to go prepare it early so I could slip away to the servants' house without being noticed. If she was busy in the kitchen, she wouldn't notice what I was up to.
"Not yet, my lady. I was just about to go prepare it. The pastries are already done, though."
"Could you please go get it ready for me now?"
"Yes, of course! I'll go do that right away, excuse me."
She hurried off to the kitchen at my request. This was my chance. I slipped out the front door and took a route that led directly to the servants' quarters, avoiding the garden where I might be seen.
I lifted the hem of my long skirt to move more quickly. Luckily, I didn't encounter anyone, and soon reached the small house. Pressing my ear to the door, I listened for sounds from inside, checking that it was empty before entering. But that wasn't the end of the obstacles.
The house seemed divided into two wings. The first room I entered was a sitting room combined with a kitchen and dining area. Beyond that, two doorways branched into left and right corridors, likely leading to the men's and women's quarters. Not knowing which side was which, I could only guess.
'Let's try the left,' I decided.
I peeked cautiously into the hallway. The house was utterly silent; Wyatt, Mr. Barker, and Lillian had all gone to town. Jason was probably still chopping wood outside, and Mrs. Barker, little Mick, and Agatha were busy in the kitchen or the garden gazebo preparing tea. Beneth, Mrs. Barker's daughter, was away in St. Albans tending to her sick grandmother, and I hadn't met her yet.
I reached the first bedroom door. Before entering, I pressed my ear to the wood once more to be sure it was empty, then gently pushed the door open, careful not to let it creak. Fortunately, it wasn't locked.
Inside, the room was tidy, suggesting it belonged to the housekeeper. There was a single bed in the corner, a small writing desk by the window, a bookshelf, a clothes rack, and a standing mirror—almost like a student dormitory.
On the rack hung dresses worn by Lillian and Agatha. That confirmed it: this must be one of their rooms, as Mrs. Barker wore different clothes, and Beneth wasn't here.
Then, something caught my eye—a small brown cotton pouch with a drawstring sitting on the desk. Inside were various seeds, probably for planting a kitchen garden. I searched the desk drawers and found only a stack of letters, but nothing resembling a key.
'What now? Did Lillian really take it with her?'
Just as I was about to give up, a thought struck me. I reached under the pillow and finally found it—the golden key I'd been searching for. I was lucky to have found Lillian's room on the first try.
How did I know to look under the pillow? Because Lillian once told me that, as a child, I liked to hide things under my pillow, and she always found them when making my bed.
Without hesitation, I tucked the key into my bodice—the only safe place to hide it without risk of it falling out.
Don't judge me for being unladylike; clothes in this era weren't designed for convenience, only for beauty. Even their weight made walking difficult, and if you fell in water, you'd surely drown before you could get undressed, even if you were an expert swimmer.
Before leaving, I made sure no one was returning unexpectedly. I pressed my ear to the door again, hoping my luck would hold. But then I heard footsteps outside.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
My heart pounded like a drum—I might be caught in the act! I waited, trying to stay calm, until the footsteps stopped right outside the door.
'She's back already!'
I looked around frantically for a place to hide—only under the bed seemed possible, but with my skirt there was no way I'd fit without being obvious. I braced myself for being caught.
Knock, knock, knock!
"Are you in there? It's me." A familiar male voice called, knocking at the door.
'That's Leo—he's meeting Lillian here in broad daylight?'
I kept quiet, hoping he'd go away. But to my surprise, he opened the door and found me standing there, shocked.
"My lady! What are you doing in Liliana's room?"
"I—I… I was looking for Lillian," I stammered.
He looked me up and down. This time, he wasn't wearing his hood, and I saw his face clearly for the first time. Was he truly Lillian's twin brother? He looked startled too—his light brown eyes, curly dark brown hair, and handsome features were nothing like Lillian's thin, plain face, though she always made me look flawless.
"You're Leo, aren't you?"
"You know my name," he said, closing the door behind him to speak privately.
"Did Liliana tell you about me? Did she explain about your sister?"
"I asked her myself. She finally told me everything."
"So even after learning all this, your memories haven't returned?" he said, very seriously, as if hoping I would recall everything for some hidden reason.
"As you understand, I have no memories—only knowledge of what happened. Can you explain what happened to my sister? Why does Lord Alexander want to kill me, too?"
"My lady, it's all too complicated, but I swear on my honor—he is the one who killed Lady Chelsea."
"Why are you so certain? What's your evidence?"
"I was forbidden from entering the manor, but we kept in secret contact. In her last days, Lady Chelsea spoke of something she had to face after meeting His Grace—something that led her to her death. She spoke in riddles, but her words implied that it was his fault."
"I suggest you find Miss Lydia. She was assigned to look after Lady Chelsea after me. She saw more than I ever did," he added.
"How will I know her?"
"I'm sorry, I can't help you find her. I'm being watched. At least here, in this manor, I have places to hide, and everyone knows me. No one dares search the master's house."
"Does my father know you're here?"
"No. Liliana and the others help hide me. The master knows nothing."
"I understand. Don't worry, I won't tell him."
"Thank you, my lady."
"One more thing—I heard you were accused of being Chelsea's lover, betraying Lord Alexander. Is it true?"
"I admit I loved her from the start, but with our difference in class, I never crossed the line. Lady Chelsea herself…" He trailed off, unable to continue, pained.
"I'm sorry. That's all I can say."
His answer was ambiguous, but his pain was clear—he must have loved her deeply but could never reach her.
The relationships between the three of them were more complicated than I'd thought. There was no use pressing him further. Still, something terrible must have happened to make Lady Chelsea say, before her death, that it was meeting Lord Alexander that doomed her.
"My lady, you should hurry back to the main house before Liliana catches you. No one's there right now—this is your chance."
'He knows I came for the key.'
"Thank you for the warning. I'll be going, then."
He didn't reply. I hurried back to the manor, avoiding the garden. At the door, I saw Agatha and Mrs. Barker carrying the pastry tray out the back. I slipped upstairs, unlocked the sealed room with the key.
Click!
It was the right key.
Creeeak…
When I opened the door, a thick layer of dust floated through the air.
'Hasn't anyone cleaned in here?'
I looked around. First, I checked the dressing table and drawers, places where diaries or letters might be hidden.
On the vanity, coated in dust, were just two items: a perfume bottle and a powder case. I opened the drawer and found three envelopes—brushed off the dust, planning to read them later.
Next, I opened the wardrobe—inside were rows of long, delicate dresses, mostly light enough for strolling, and several riding outfits. Clearly, Lady Chelsea enjoyed equestrian sports. And then I found it—
'The emerald-green dress Lillian made me wear.'
It was hanging there, confirming it was hers. This was the dress that had incited Lord Alexander's anger.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Footsteps on the stairs. I quickly hid the dress, locked the door, and left before whoever it was reached the second floor.
A young maid looked at me in confusion.
"What are you doing here, my lady?"
"I was just curious whose room this was."
"I don't know, my lady. I've only worked here three years—Miss Liliana never told me about this room."
So I dropped the subject.
"I see."
"The tea and pastries are ready at the gazebo. Shall we go?"
"Yes. By the way—has Lillian returned?"
"Not yet, my lady."
"What time is it?"
"It was about 12:10 when I last checked."
So I still had time to return the key before Lillian came home.
On the way downstairs, I remembered I'd forgotten something.
"I'll join you in a moment—I just need to fetch something from my room."
"Yes, my lady."
Back in my room, I carefully hid the three letters in the bedside drawer, planning to follow Agatha down later.
Knock, knock, knock! A tap at the window.
'Leo again? What does he want this time?'
This time, I opened the window for him.
"You snuck into Lady Chelsea's room, didn't you? Did you find anything?"
"I found three or four letters. Why?"
"It's strange—Lady Chelsea always kept a diary, but it's missing. I thought the master must have moved all her belongings."
He thoughtfully glanced at the vanity, then spotted a notebook—my notebook, not Lady Chelsea's.
"This one isn't hers, is it?"
"No, that's mine."
"Forgive me for overstepping, but if you want to know what happened, you must find her diary."
"Why are you so eager for me to recover my memories?"
He looked at me steadily.
"I just want to protect Lady Chelsea's younger sister. I once promised her I'd look after Lady Eleanor in her place."
I arched a brow; I felt he wanted more than that—maybe to use me to avenge Lord Alexander. But maybe that was just foolishness on my part.
His deep brown eyes regarded me calmly.
"Would you like me to return the key to its place?"
"Are you sure you'll return it properly?"
"I'm used to coming and going in my sister's room. If I wanted the key, I'd have taken it long ago. I just don't want Liliana to suffer the consequences of my actions."
"Then I'll leave it to you."
"Gladly."
He accepted the key, but before leaving, he turned to look at me again.
"My lady, you remind me so much of Lady Chelsea," he said, then disappeared over the ivy-draped balcony.
'Do I really remind him of Lady Chelsea? Maybe it's just a coincidence.'
Now I had gathered quite a bit of information. But I still needed to find that diary and seek out Lydia.