Chapter 7
"Are you the De-Laurent guardians?" the butler in the Green Manor asked, his voice deep, smooth as polished wood, and laced with a formality that felt centuries old.
"Yes," Eleanor replied, lifting her chin with quiet confidence. Behind her, Martha, Esther, and Samuel stood in a neat line, their breath visible in the soft chill of the afternoon air.
"Please follow me."
As the heavy wrought-iron gates creaked shut behind them with a decisive thud, the world outside seemed to vanish. They had entered a different realm, one ruled not by time, but by legacy. Green Manor loomed ahead, majestic and intimidating. The entrance was a marvel of classical architecture: towering porticoes supported by thick stone columns, each carved with delicate spirals and faded floral motifs. Marble statues flanked the stairway, their eyes cold and watching, ivy curling around their limbs like they'd been standing guard for a thousand years.
"Ohhh, so historical!" Martha breathed, her voice full of wonder. Her wide eyes darted from one ancient ornament to the next like a child in a museum.
Esther, her fingers already brushing the edge of the stone balustrade, grinned."It's like walking into a Bridgerton scene. I swear, I can hear string quartets."
Samuel snorted softly but said nothing.
Eleanor didn't reply either. Her gaze had already drifted upward, drawn by something she couldn't explain. A shift in the air. A flicker of energy. She tilted her head slightly, squinting at the grand window above the front arch.
That's when she saw a figure, clearly a man framed by the window like a portrait from another time.
The distance and the glass distorted the details, but the silhouette was unmistakably masculine, carved from clean lines and strength. He stood motionless, yet there was something so visceral about the way he looked down at her, like he could see straight through her, like he already knew her and didn't like what he saw.
A strange, heady sensation swept over her...like vertigo. But it felt intimate. Her pulse stumbled, a flutter low in her belly she despised. She gripped her coat sleeves tighter.
What the hell is wrong with me? She thought, breaking eye contact as fast as she could.
She blinked hard and turned away, trying to push the moment aside.
"Come in, please," the butler said, holding the grand doors open with a sweep of his hand.
She stepped inside with the others, but not before casting one last glance up at the window.
The figure was gone.
She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until she released it.
"This is a palace!" Esther gasped as they stepped into the vast entrance hall. Her voice echoed softly off the high ceilings. The floor beneath them gleamed, and every corner of the space seemed curated to intimidate.
Two maids stood like statues beside an impossibly long, dark-wood dining table. Their hands were neatly clasped behind their backs, eyes focused forward, not daring to look at the new arrivals. It was as if they were trained not to breathe unless instructed.
Esther's heels clacked excitedly against the floor."Okay, okay, this is insane. Look at that molding! I swear I'm hallucinating. Did we time-travel?!"
Eleanor shot her a look and lowered her voice."Can you not act like that in front of them?" she gestured subtly toward the butler and the other staff moving through the room like silent shadows."You're embarrassing me."
"I can't contain my emotions," Esther whispered back, grinning unapologetically.
"You ain't serious," Eleanor scoffed, trying for her usual unimpressed tone...but it fell flat. The grandeur around her was swallowing her words whole."It's not that impress..."
"They are here, sir," the butler announced with precise diction.
Eleanor turned toward the voice.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, sounded measured, unhurried, and deliberate. It took a long time for the owner of those footsteps to show forth, it took a very long time because Eleanor was curious.
He finally was on sight and it was unmistakably the man from the window.
Marcus Green.
