Chapter 4: Territorial

Eleanor woke to the faint scent of brewed coffee wafting through the halls.

The memory of last night lingered in her mind like a bitter aftertaste. Jane’s little accident had somehow turned into a full-blown crisis. The entire household had been in chaos. 

Eleanor remembered the way Sebastian rushed to Jane’s side like she’d been hit by a truck, and how Damien carefully carried her to the couch. It was like watching a staged play, and Jane was the star. And Eleanor? She had been the villain. As always.

“Good morning, self. So I guess, everything is not a dream, after all. I’ve really returned,” Eleanor said as she stared in her vanity mirror.

Eleanor brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she made her way downstairs. She kept her steps steady, composed, and controlled. But inside, the tension simmered.

As she turned into the dining room, her gaze halted. 

Jane’s already there. Sitting at the dining table. 

In her seat. 

She’s wearing a silk top that was probably taken from Eleanor’s wardrobe where Jane shouldn’t have access. Jane was delicately cutting a piece of toast like she’d lived with them her whole life. 

Eleanor’s father was sitting at the end of the table, his wife on the seat next to him, carrying on like it was nothing. Like this wasn’t a blatant breach of every rule they’d ever enforced.

Eleanor stopped beside her chair.

“Jane, that is my seat.”

The silence was deafening.

Jane paused with a toast halfway to her lips. She blinked, and her smile slowly faded.

“Oh— I… I didn’t mean to offend you, Lady Eleanor. Madame Cecilia insisted I stay for breakfast after—after last night—”

Eleanor tilted her head slightly.

“But I'm sure Mom wouldn’t personally offer you my seat.”

Cecilia’s mouth slightly opened. She knew the weight of Jane, a servant, sitting in her daughter’s seat, and with Eleanor’s current foul mood, they wouldn’t want to drive Eleanor into making another rash decision regarding her future, given the unresolved issue of her marriage.

Jane stood slowly, trying not to look shaken, but her fingers trembled just slightly as she reached for her napkin. 

“Of course. I apologize, Lady Eleanor.”

Jane moved to the farthest seat at the table, and Eleanor slipped into her own, reclaiming it without another word. She reached for her coffee, sipping slowly, letting the silence linger just long enough to remind everyone who this house actually belonged to.

“So, Eleanor,” Leon said, his voice stiff, trying to pivot the tension, “have you given any more thought to your decision? It would still be best to make an announcement soon. Damien and Sebastian, they are both strong matches, and—”

“I already said no, Dad,” Eleanor cut in, not looking up from her cup.

Her mother sighed. “Eleanor, this isn’t just about preference. Your decision will gravely affect your future.”

“I’m aware, Mom,” she said, finally meeting her mother’s eyes. “But I’ve made my choice. I only want to marry Lucian.”

Silence filled the air. Eleanor’s parents let out multiple sighs, unable to think of another word to say. Then, Jane finally spoke. It was soft, unsure, like she was only trying to help, but the calculation behind her eyes was evident.

“If I may… I just don’t understand,” Jane said with fingers wrapped around her teacup. “Why would you choose Lucian? He’s… I mean, he’s not really part of their family. Isn’t he the one they never acknowledged?”

Eleanor set down her cup. The pause was deliberate and cold. Eleanor leaned forward slightly.

“You’re right, Jane. He’s the one they never acknowledged. But unlike the ones they do, he doesn’t pretend to be someone he’s not. He doesn’t wear kindness like a costume.”

Jane’s face paled and her lips slightly widened.

“And when I’m with him,” Eleanor continued, voice low but firm, “I don’t feel like I’m being watched for weakness. I don’t feel like a performance piece in someone else’s game.”

Leon shifted in his seat. Cecilia cleared her throat. No one dared to defend Jane.

Eleanor pushed back her chair, standing gracefully. “Excuse me. I’ve lost my appetite.”

She walked away without waiting for permission. Her steps were measured, but her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She didn’t look back. But if she did, she would’ve seen Jane sharply staring at her.

— HOURS LATER —

Eleanor sat in front of her vanity, her eyes narrowed as she flipped through hangers in her open wardrobe. Her space, once filled with pastel hues and delicate floral patterns, suddenly felt foreign to her. Too soft. Too naive. 

She frowned at a frilly lavender blouse and shoved it aside. Eleanor's done with lace and bows. She's done with looking like the girl everyone expected her to be. The sweet, tame, and breakable girl. That girl died with the last version of her. Eleanor decided to go shopping. A full closet purge. Darker colors. Cleaner lines. Clothes that don't beg for approval.

As she smoothed her hair back into a low ponytail, a knock came from her door. Eleanor didn’t answer, but the door creaked open anyway. Jane stepped inside, carrying a mug with steam gently rising from the top.

“I brought you something, my lady,” she said softly. “Hot chocolate. I remember you like it with a little cinnamon.”

“What do you want?”

Jane hesitated, but then carefully set the mug on the vanity.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you… at breakfast. I didn’t know where to sit.”

“You knew,” Eleanor replied calmly, finally meeting Jane’s reflection in the mirror. “You really wanted to sit there.”

Jane bit her lip. Tears were slowly forming in her eyes.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Eleanor turned in her seat slowly, meeting Jane’s teary eyes with a sharp gaze.

“Do you really want to know?”

Jane nodded.

“Because you act like you’re innocent,” Eleanor said, standing. “Like everything that happens around you is an accident. Like people just naturally fall all over themselves to protect you.” Eleanor stepped closer, making Jane step back. “But it’s not natural, Jane. You work for it. You manipulate people with those big eyes and that soft voice. You make yourself small so others will feel big around you.”

Jane’s jaw tightened. “I never asked to be treated like that. And I am not pretending or manipulating anyone!”

The silence stretched as Eleanor smiled, reading Jane’s emotions like an open book.

Then, in Jane’s nervousness or maybe in her own flare of emotion, Jane moved too quickly. Her elbow knocked into the vanity. The mug toppled. A splash of hot chocolate spilled across Eleanor’s forearm. She gasped, pulling away as the heat bit into her skin. Instinctively, she shoved Jane back. Not hard, just enough to gain distance.

Jane stumbled, falling onto the edge of a low armchair. The moment she landed, she cried out with a dramatic, drawn-out sound of pain echoing from her throat.

“Oh my god!” Jane exclaimed, holding her side. “You pushed me!”

The next moment was a blur. The door slammed open. Sebastian rushed in first, followed by Damien. Both of them looked panicked, eyes flicking between Jane on the floor and Eleanor standing with a red-stained sleeve and furrowed brows.

“What the hell happened?!” Sebastian demanded, rushing to Jane’s side.

“She—she pushed me!” Jane choked out. “I was just bringing her something, and she—!”

“She spilled hot chocolate on me,” Eleanor said coldly.

“You pushed her over a drink?” Sebastian’s voice was sharp. “Are you serious, Eleanor?”

Eleanor clenched her jaw but didn’t respond. Damien helped Jane sit up, inspecting her arm like she’d just been struck by lightning.

“You didn’t have to do this. She’s just trying to get along with you," Sebastian added.

“I didn’t do anything more than react,” Eleanor said, her voice quieter now. “But of course… you never really see that part.”

Sebastian ignored her, guiding Jane out of the room with protective murmurs and gentle touches.

"What are you doing? Go..." Eleanor said, looking directly at Damien who remained standing in front of her.

"Eleanor, I don't think Jane really wants to harm you," he calmly said. "Maybe you should learn how to trust people more..."

Eleanor stood still as Damien left. The scent of chocolate still clung to her skin. The door shut in front of her with a soft click. A tear fell from Eleanor’s eye, but she wiped it immediately.

And just like that, she was alone and misunderstood again.