Chapter 1. Elouise Stowood
Elouise Stowood liked to think of herself as someone with good fortune.
Granted, her father had squandered the family’s wealth in his generation, leaving them with nothing but a noble title. Still, she had been born the second daughter of a barony with a somewhat respectable name. And she was, all things considered, reasonably pretty.
She was also fairly intelligent. So much so that by the age of twelve, she could read and write fluently in Tuluan, the formal language used among the nobility.
She was quick and nimble, too. While her older sister, Louiche—five years her senior—could barely manage ten steps with a book balanced on her head, Elouise could glide like a proper lady with five stacked atop hers.
Naturally cheerful by nature, she was well liked by all.
Though not particularly meticulous due to her easygoing disposition, she was still a noblewoman. A bit of clumsiness could be overlooked—after all, if she married well someday, a capable butler would take care of such details. Even if she had never seen one growing up in their impoverished household, everyone said she was destined to marry into a good family.
More than that, her soft, curly brown hair gleamed with a healthy shine, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with charm.
Her friends and her nanny would often say in unison that she was sure to marry into a far better household than her sister Louiche ever could.
When her father went missing after a failed mining investment—drunkenly wandering the streets and vanishing without a trace—Elouise told herself it was all right.
At least he hadn’t been found dead. And since she considered herself lucky, she chose to believe her father was still alive somewhere. If that were the case, there was no reason for him to return right away.
When Louiche fell in love with a man burdened only by debt and eloped in the middle of the night, Elouise told herself that was all right, too.
If Louiche had truly found someone she loved, then good for her. Elouise reasoned that someone as clumsy, slow, and hopeless at numbers as her sister would be miserable if she ended up with the wrong man.
So, Elouise prayed sincerely with both hands clasped, hoping her sister would be happy.
And on top of that, she was genuinely grateful that she only had herself to worry about now.
Elouise was clever enough to realize early on that marrying into a good family was no longer in the cards for her.
After much thought, she chose a different path—working as a governess for noble households in the small town of Manet, where she lived.
No one in Manet could rival Elouise’s charm or the effortless grace with which she snapped open a fan. She taught noble daughters to read and write in Tuluan, and to walk with the elegance befitting a princess.
Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two…
The years passed, yet Elouise remained unattached to any single household. Manet was too small for such an arrangement to be worthwhile. Tying herself exclusively to one noble family as a full-time governess would have been a poor bargain. For the same pay, it was far more practical to serve several.
Public opinion shifted quickly. What once had been admiration for her elegance and wit soon became recognition of her value. She was no longer just the clever young woman—she was the governess worth every coin.
Elouise didn’t mind. In fact, she considered herself lucky. To be called “worth the money” was no insult. If anything, it worked in her favor.
Then came the year she turned twenty-three.
That spring, while sipping coffee in a lively café, she tried to recall the last time someone had brought up marriage—and realized she couldn’t.
There were no more suitors waiting in line to marry a woman of twenty-three.
The Stowood estate—left as her sole inheritance after her father’s disappearance—was far too large for Elouise to maintain on her modest income. Yet, it wasn’t grand or desirable enough to fetch a good price on the market. In every sense, it was a burden.
The compliments on her beauty that once followed her everywhere had long faded into memory. Every cent she earned went toward keeping up the house, and her skin had begun to lose its youthful softness.
And yet, Elouise spared no effort in maintaining the estate. If her father were ever to return, it had to be the Stowood estate that welcomed him back and offered him a place to rest. And if Louiche, having nowhere else to go, were to come back with the man she loved, the estate needed to have space for her, too. Just as it had once been in the days of her early childhood, when their mother was still alive, Elouise wished for the Stowood home to once again be filled with the laughter of children.
And so, she continued her work as a governess.
Then, at twenty-nine—Elouise’s wish came true.
Louiche returned.
But it wasn’t in the way Elouise had hoped.
Louiche had fled to the neighboring town. So close, in fact, that Elouise felt a wave of hollow disbelief. Louiche had run off to a town so near it was almost laughable, and there, she had lived with the man she loved, raising their child.
But unlike Elouise, it seemed Louiche hadn’t been so lucky. Her husband scraped by on odd jobs, and Louiche sold vegetables at the market while bearing and raising their daughter. It was far from the life of a noblewoman—though, by commoner standards, it was perhaps not so unusual.
Still, her husband appeared to have been tormented by the guilt of failing to provide Louiche with happiness.
No one knew where he obtained the money, but he began gambling. Within a year, he succumbed to the weight of his debts, hanging himself in despair.
In the dead of night, Louiche fled to the Stowood estate, her young daughter in tow. Elouise wept as she embraced her sister tightly. The eleven-year-old girl, unaware of the gravity of the moment, blinked up at the two women locked in their desperate reunion.
Three days later, Louiche was struck down by a sudden fever and passed away. Elouise sobbed before her sister’s grave.
Juliet approached silently and stared at Elouise for a moment. Then, without warning, she delivered a sharp slap to her aunt’s cheek. The hand of an eleven-year-old girl could pack a surprising sting, and Elouise reeled back in shock, her eyes meeting Juliet’s.
There was not a trace of Louiche in her. Shimmering golden hair, radiant blue eyes—a face so doll-like it took Elouise’s breath away.
“Ma—ma.” Juliet looked up and spoke slowly. Those two syllables hit Elouise like a bolt of lightning, leaving her stunned and dazed.
Only then did she realize—she had all but abandoned Juliet for two whole days while preparing Louiche’s funeral.
Juliet opened her mouth again. “My tummy hurts. I want my mom.”
Tears streamed down Elouise’s cheeks. She hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand and gently cupped Juliet’s face. Saying her stomach hurt—she was likely trying to express that she was hungry, not yet knowing how to put it into words.
In the biting cold of February, the wind sliced through the air with a sharpness that made one’s breath catch. Yet, Juliet stood there in nothing but a thin shift—a stark testament to Elouise’s neglect. Guilt weighed heavily on her as she wrapped her arms around Juliet’s chilled neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Juliet silently returned the embrace, her small arms tightening around Elouise’s neck. She hadn’t eaten in two days—by all rights, she should have been crying, complaining, throwing a fit. And yet, Juliet hadn’t shown a hint of anger.
Elouise marveled at the child’s resilience. At twenty-nine, without ever seeking a suitor or marrying, she’d ended up with a daughter—a sweet, obedient, and utterly lovable child. The long-silent Stowood estate would once again echo with the sound of a child’s voice.
She had mourned for too long, Elouise told herself. Now, it wasn’t just the Stowood estate she had to look after—she had a family to care for. A beautiful, gentle, loving family.
Quickly, Elouise draped her own cape over Juliet’s shoulders and lifted her into her arms. An eleven-year-old girl should have been heavy enough to make the task difficult, but Juliet was as light as paper. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t even wearing shoes.
Elouise glanced at Juliet’s bare, dirt-smeared feet and let out a tearful laugh. She could already see the hardships this little girl would bring her. There wouldn’t be time for tears.
“Let’s go, Juliet. You must be starving. Let’s get inside and eat something warm.”
Juliet clung tightly to Elouise’s neck as they made their way back into the house.
Even as Juliet’s frostbitten fingers brushed against Elouise’s nape, she felt no cold at all. And so, the ever-fortunate Elouise found herself with a daughter.
