Eleanor had always felt like a stranger in the house that should have been her own. Her mother, Molly, clearly doted on her older sistersCharlotte and Beatricewrapping them in extra warmth and attention. The imbalance cut deep, yet Eleanor swallowed her bitterness, forever trying to please Molly in the hope of earning just a fraction of that love.
Dont even think of staying here! The flat will go to your sisters. Youve been a wolf cub in my eyes since you were a babe. Go wherever you like! With those words, Molly shut the door on Eleanor the very day she turned eighteen.
Eleanor tried to argue, to point out the unfairness. Charlotte was only three years older, Beatrice five. Both had finished university on a tuition bill paid by their mother; no one had rushed them toward independence. Eleanor, however, was always the odd one out. No matter how good she behaved, the affection she received in the family was only skindeepif it could even be called affection at all. Only her grandfather, Arthur, ever treated her kindly. He had taken in his pregnant daughter after her husband vanished without a trace.
Perhaps Mum is worried about my sisters? They say I look a lot like them, Eleanor mused, searching for an explanation for her mothers chill. She had tried several honest talks with Molly, but each ended in a tirade or a tantrum.
Arthur was her true anchor. Her happiest memories were tied to the little Cotswold village where they spent summers. Eleanor loved tending the garden, the vegetable patch, learning to milk cows, baking piesanything to delay the return to a home where contempt and reproach greeted her every sunrise.
Granddad, why does no one love me? Whats wrong with me? she would ask, fighting back tears.
I love you very much, he would answer, gently, never mentioning Molly or the sisters.
Young Eleanor clung to his words, believing she was loved in a special way. When she turned ten, Arthur died, and the familys treatment of her grew harsher. Her sisters mocked her, and Molly always sided with them.
From that day on, Eleanor received nothing newonly handmedowns from Charlotte and Beatrice. They laughed:
Oh, look at this fashionable top! Go sweep the floor, Anyawhatevers needed!
When their mother bought sweets, the sisters devoured everything, handing Eleanor only the empty wrappers:
Here, dear, collect the bits!
Molly heard it all but never rebuked them. Thus Eleanor grew up as a wolf cubunwanted, forever begging for affection from people who saw her as nothing more than a subject of ridicule. The harder she tried to be good, the more they turned against her.
So when Molly finally threw her out on her eighteenth birthday, Eleanor found work as a hospital orderlies assistant in a small market town near Sheffield. Hard work and endurance became her habit, and at least now she earned a wagethough it was a meagre few pounds a week. Here no one despised her; if kindness met no malice, that was already progress, she thought.
Her employer even offered her a scholarship to train as a surgeon. The towns clinic desperately needed specialists, and Eleanor had already shown a knack while assisting the nurses.
Life was harsh. By twentyseven she had no close relatives left. Work consumed her existenceshe lived for the patients whose lives she steadied. Yet loneliness lingered; she slept alone in a staff dormitory, just as she had once done at home.
Visiting Molly and the sisters was a perpetual disappointment, so Eleanor kept those trips to a minimum. When the household would drift to the kitchen for tea and gossip, she would slip onto the porch and weep.
One grey evening, a fellow orderlies, George, hovered by her side.
Why are you crying, love?
Dont mock me, she muttered, embarrassed.
She considered herself plain, a grey mouse, oblivious to the fact that, at almost thirty, she had become a petite, striking blonde with bright blue eyes and a neat nose. The awkwardness of youth had faded; her shoulders straightened, her hair, tied in a tight bun, seemed eager to break free.
Youre actually beautiful! Value yourself and lift your chin. Youre a promising surgeon; your future is bright, George encouraged, his voice soft.
George had worked alongside her for nearly two years, occasionally slipping her a chocolate, but this was their first real conversation. Eleanor poured out everything, tears spilling like rain.
Maybe you should call Sir Daniel Whitaker? The man you saved recently. He treats you well; they say hes wellconnected, George suggested.
Thanks, George. Ill try, she answered.
And if that fails, we could marry. I have a flat; Id never mistreat you, he added halfjokingly.
Eleanor flushed; his tone turned earnest. He saw not a pitied orphan, but a woman deserving love.
Alright. Ill keep that in mind, she said, feeling for the first time in years that she was not a disposable workhorse but a young woman with possibilities ahead.
That very night she dialed Sir Daniels number.
This is Eleanor, the surgeon. You gave me your number, said I could call if anything came up she began, hesitating.
Eleanor! Splendid to hear from you! How are you? Lets meet for tea and a chat. We oldtimers love a good natter, he replied warmly.
The next day was her day off, so she visited him at once. She told him plainly about her plight and asked if he knew anyone needing a livein caregiver.
You understand, Sir Daniel, Im used to hard work, but Im at my limit
Dont worry, love! I can get you a surgeons post in a private clinic, and you could live with me. I wouldnt be where I am without you, he said.
Of course, Sir Daniel. But your relativeswont they mind? she asked.
My relatives only appear when Im gone. They care only about the house, he sighed.
Thus they began cohabiting. Two years later, a quiet romance blossomed between Eleanor and George, often over steaming cups of tea. Sir Daniel, however, never liked George and kept warning Eleanor:
Sorry, love, but George is a good lad, merely meek and impressionable. Dont get too attached.
Eleanor, now glowing with news, announced, Sir Daniel, were getting married. He jokingly proposed two years ago, and now Im pregnant! She added, You remain dear to me; Ill visit daily. Youre like family.
He replied, My dear Eleanor, Im not feeling well. Tomorrow well go to the solicitor and register a house in the village in your name. Youve always loved the countryside; perhaps itll be your dacha you can sell it if you wish.
He hesitated, his words trailing off.
Eleanor objected that it was too muchhe would live long enough to leave the house to his children. Yet Sir Daniel was adamant.
When she discovered the house lay in the very Cotswold village where Arthur had lived, her heart fluttered. The original dwelling had long been demolished, the plot sold, strangers now occupied the land, but the thought of having her own little corner there rekindled warm memories.
I dont deserve this, but thank you, Sir Daniel, she whispered sincerely.
Just one thing: dont tell George the house is in your name. And dont ask why, he warned, his tone serious. Eleanor nodded, vowing to keep his secret.
Later she learned Sir Daniel, besides suffering the aftereffects of a stroke, also battled cancer and refused surgery. In the end, Eleanor arranged his funeral and moved in with her future husband.
Troubles arrived in the seventh month of her pregnancyby then theyd lived together six months.
Maybe you should work a bit before the baby arrives, George suggested.
By then Eleanor had left the clinic where Sir Daniel had secured her a post, hoping to live on savings and Georges support. His words cut her sharply.
Maybe she replied, uneasy. She bought the groceries; George turned out to be stingy. Yet the child grew inside her, and she didnt want to abandon the wedding.
A week before the planned ceremony, while George was out, a tall, slender blonde named Lydia slipped into their flat with her own key.
Hello. Im Lydia. George and I love each other, and hes just scared to tell you. So Ill say it: youre no longer needed, she announced, confident and brisk.
What? Our wedding is in days! Weve paid for everything! Eleanor stammered, bewildered. She had covered most of the modest café celebration costs.
I know. No problem. George will marry me. I have contacts at the registry; well sort it quickly, Lydia declared, as if destiny had already been written.
When George returned, he muttered, Eleanor, Im sorry Yes, its true. Ill help with the baby but cant marry you.
Well do a paternity test, Lydia added, placing a hand on Georges shoulder.
What paternity test?! Youre my only love! Eleanor shouted, lunging at him.
Shell scratch you, love! Shes almost thirty and still behaves like a child, Lydia sneered.
George stood silent, not defending Eleanor, his gaze fixed on the floor. It became clear: everything now hinged on Lydia; he was merely a passive observer.
Eleanor began packing. There was no point fighting a man who abandoned her so easily. Lydia explained that she and George had dated long agoshed been married then, now single. Eleanor was just a stopgap until the dream woman arrived.
She could have demanded explanations, but what good would they serve if George let Lydia take over?
So the house finally comes in handy, Eleanor thought.
The cottage was indeed useful, though it lacked running water. The stove, however, was perfectArthur had taught her everything needed for country living. It was livable. How to give birth alone? Time would tell.
Firewood was stacked, the shed sturdy, and a fresh blanket of snow lay at the doorstep, waiting to be cleared. The woodpile was a treasure in such a cold.
Sir Daniel had introduced her to the neighbours as the new mistress and wife of his son, so no awkward questions arose.
Eleanor called Molly and the sisters as usual; they didnt disappointadvising her to give the baby up for adoption and to never get involved with anyone before the wedding. They also gossiped about Georges unpaid wedding contribution, half of which Eleanor had covered.
But no one knew about the cottage. Now she could hide, gather herself, and think.
It was freezing; she kept her downfilled coat on. While raking the coal in the stove, her poker struck something hard.
She slipped off her gloves and unearthed a wooden box, neatly sealed, with bold lettering: Eleanor, this is for you. The ink was unmistakably Sir Daniels hand.
Inside lay photographs, a letter, and a small tin. Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope.
Dear Eleanor, you should know I was your grandfathers brother, the one he asked to look after you, the letter began. It revealed a longago rift between Arthur and Sir Daniel, but before Arthur died, his brother had found him and asked him to locate Eleanor after she turned eighteen. He also left an inheritance his daughter would never part with.
Sir Daniel had struggled to find Eleanorher mother and sisters had hidden her address. Fate, however, brought them together in the hospital when he was a patient and she his doctor. He wanted to tell her earlier but never got the chance, so he arranged the cottage he had bought from Arthur, knowing his own daughter would never part with anything for a granddaughter.
A further shock emerged: Molly was not her biological mother. Eleanor was actually the daughter of her late sisterone Eleanor had envied and resented. In the photograph, a young mother and father smiled, cradling a little girl. Eleanor survived because she was with Arthur on the day of the accident.
Among the contents were fivehundredpound notes left by Arthur. The crisp bills warmed her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Now she and her unborn child were safe.
When she lit the stove, the flames seemed to consume all her fears, betrayals, and resentments. She would start anewfor the baby and for herself.
In time she would forgive those who hurt her, but she was done with them. This cottage would be her refuge.
Sir Daniel had always said a good house belongs to someone who values it. He claimed hed built it in his youth with his own hands, from the finest timber.
Not just a house, but a wonder! It will stand for two hundred years! he often repeated. The village was reachable by busjust two stops away.
Yes, the pay was modest, and help with the baby remained uncertain. Yet she now had a roof, savings, a profession, youth, beauty, and a son on the way.
For the first time, Eleanor truly felt happy.
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