A road called home

In the grand drawing room of the Hastings' mansion, the Duke and Duchess of Hastings sat comfortably, surrounded by a small group of their closest advisors. The warm glow of the fire flickered in the hearth, but despite the peaceful surroundings, Eleanor's mind was elsewhere. She couldn't help but feel a wave of impatience and longing as the coaches creaked quietly outside, preparing for the arrival of Emma and Thomas the following day.

"Oh, my goodness, it's been a whole year since they left," Eleanor said, letting out a sigh. She adjusted herself in her seat, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "I know we've visited them as much as we could, but I still miss them terribly. I can't believe that tomorrow, my children will finally be home." Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It feels as though the house will finally be whole again."

The group around her exchanged knowing glances, some offering warm smiles while others nodded in understanding. They had seen Eleanor through the past year—had witnessed her constant thoughts about Emma, the girl she had adopted into her family with such care. Yet, despite the passing of time, there was still an undercurrent of uncertainty about their bond.

"They're growing so fast," one of her advisors commented gently. "But it's good to see the excitement in your eyes again, Duchess. Tomorrow is going to be a new beginning."

"Yes, yes," Eleanor agreed, her eyes momentarily distant. "But I still feel like I'm missing something. I've tried, truly, I've tried to reach her, but she's so... so distant. She still hasn't spoken a word to us—only to Thomas. It's as though she's locked away inside herself."

Another advisor added, "Perhaps, once they're home, Emma will feel more comfortable. Being with Thomas could help."

"I hope so," Eleanor said softly. "I can't wait to see them both tomorrow. I'll prepare a coach to bring them back from the station."

As the conversation continued, Eleanor's heart grew heavier with the thought of her daughter's silence. Her thoughts drifted to the grand plans she had for Emma—plans that she hoped would help her truly feel at home in the society Eleanor was so desperate to introduce her to.

---

The following day, the mansion was bustling with activity in preparation for Emma and Thomas's return. The carriages and coaches rolled up the grand driveway, and as the door to the mansion opened, Thomas leapt out first, his face beaming with excitement. Eleanor rushed to meet him, wrapping her arms around her son in an embrace.

"Thomas, darling! I've missed you so much!" Eleanor exclaimed, squeezing him tightly.

Thomas returned her hug eagerly. "Mother! I missed you too!"

Emma—Adesuwa—stepped out of the carriage behind Thomas, her presence graceful yet silent. She stood there for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before she slowly walked toward Eleanor and the Duke.

Thomas, ever the enthusiastic child, took Emma's hand, giving her a warm, comforting smile. "Emma, you're home now. Everything will be alright."

Eleanor observed them closely. Despite Emma's silence, she noticed how close the girl seemed to Thomas. They had a bond—a quiet, unspoken understanding. But Emma didn't look at her or the Duke. There was no smile, no words exchanged. It was as though the girl didn't truly see them as her family, not yet.

Eleanor's heart ached, but she masked it with a smile, taking Emma's hands gently. "Welcome home, my dear Emma," she said, her voice soft. "I've missed you so."

Emma only nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes not meeting Eleanor's. It was as though her mind and heart were still far away—still locked in a distant world.

Eleanor held her emotions back as best as she could, but as soon as the door to Emma's room closed behind them, the facade crumbled. She collapsed onto her bed, her hands pressed against her face as she allowed the tears to fall.

"I've tried so hard," Eleanor whispered between sobs, her chest tight with sorrow. "I've tried everything, and still, she doesn't accept me. It's as though she's still so far away from me."

But then, through her tears, a thought began to take root in her mind—a plan. "No," Eleanor said to herself, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I will not give up. I will show her the world that she deserves. I'll introduce her to society—properly. She deserves a grand debut. It's time for her to see just how special she is."

Determined, Eleanor stood up, the spark of resolve lighting up her features. "A grand ball," she whispered. "Yes. I'll make it the most beautiful ball. I'll bring Emma into society—into the world where she belongs. She will see that she is loved, and that she's not just a foreigner in this house, but a true member of this family."

She looked toward the window, her thoughts turning to the future. "Tomorrow, everything will change," she muttered, her mind already racing with preparations. "I'll do whatever it takes for Emma to feel like she's truly home.

---

Eleanor stood at the door, her heart racing with anticipation for the grand debut she had been planning for Emma. She was already envisioning the moment when Emma would be presented to society, taking her rightful place by Eleanor's side. It would be perfect, the beginning of Emma's true life as her daughter.

But as she was about to push the door open, the sound of laughter reached her ears—loud and clear, ringing through the hallway. She stopped in her tracks, her hand frozen in midair. It was Emma's voice, mixed with Thomas's, full of pure joy and innocence. Eleanor had never heard Emma laugh like this before. There was something so carefree about it, something she hadn't expected to hear.

A smile spread across Eleanor's face, her heart swelling in a way she hadn't anticipated. She stood there for a moment, listening to the laughter, soaking in the sound of Emma's voice—so full of life, so different from the quiet, composed demeanor she usually saw in the girl.

Eleanor's eyes softened. She hadn't realized how much she had longed for this. Emma's laughter felt like a gift—something she hadn't fully understood she was missing.

"Oh, Emma," she whispered to herself, her heart full. "I wish you would just open up to me like this," she said quietly, her fingers lightly brushing the doorframe. "If only you knew how much I longed to hear your voice like this, to have you share these moments with me."

As Eleanor savored the sound of Emma and Thomas, she felt a tug of hope. Perhaps, with time, Emma would come to see her as more than a mother by name. Perhaps, one day, she would open her heart.

But just as the moment seemed perfect, the sound of footsteps behind her broke the spell. Alfred had come to join her, his presence as solid and unwavering as ever.

As the door to the sitting room opened, the sound of Emma and Thomas's quiet laughter came to an abrupt halt. Both of them stiffened at the sudden intrusion, the room now heavy with the weight of the Duke and Duchess's presence. Emma instinctively lowered her gaze, her fingers hovering near the chessboard but not moving.

Thomas, ever the composed one, stood quickly and bowed his head respectfully. "Father, Mother," he greeted them, his tone neutral yet polite.

Duchess Eleanor's gaze, however, wasn't on Thomas. It was fixed on Emma, her eyes wide with something between wonder and disbelief. She had never seen Emma quite like this before—laughing, playing, so... alive.

Emma, who so often kept her emotions hidden, seemed to have let down her guard in front of Thomas. Eleanor's heart stirred at the sight, but she quickly masked her surprise with a soft smile.

Alfred, ever the pragmatic Duke, turned to Thomas with a brief smile. "You're doing well, son," he remarked, his voice steady. "I trust your studies are progressing?"

Thomas nodded, his expression serious yet proud. "Yes, Father. All is in order."

The conversation shifted briefly, with Alfred discussing a few matters of the estate. But as his words faded into the background, Eleanor's thoughts remained focused on Emma. She had seen her quiet, composed, and distant, but never in such an unguarded moment.

She finally spoke, her voice softer than usual, filled with curiosity and a hint of longing. "Emma," she said, her eyes still lingering on her, "you've grown quite skilled at chess. I didn't expect this from you."

Emma's gaze flicked up briefly, and for a moment, it seemed as if she might speak. But the words didn't come. Instead, she simply nodded, her expression unreadable.

Alfred noticed the silence, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything all right, Emma?" he asked, though his tone was more neutral than concerned.

The tension in the room deepened as Emma remained still, her eyes locked on the board, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to meet their gaze.

Eleanor's gaze softened. She couldn't help the ache in her chest as she watched Emma retreat once more into herself. She wanted to reach her, to draw her out of the silence, but the invisible wall between them was as unyielding as ever.

Breaking the silence, Alfred glanced over at his wife, the familiar authority in his voice. "If you agree, Duke, I believe we should move forward with our plans for tomorrow's event."

Just as the silence in the room began to stretch, a soft knock on the door broke the stillness. A maid entered with a respectful curtsey, her presence a welcome distraction from the heavy atmosphere.

"Your Grace, Viscount Edmund is downstairs and awaiting your presence," the maid announced.

Eleanor blinked, momentarily pausing as she turned to Alfred. He gave a brief nod, his expression confirming that the interruption was as expected.

"Well, then," Alfred said, his tone soft but authoritative. "We should not keep him waiting."

Eleanor glanced once more at Emma, who stood still in her usual quiet manner. Emma's silence weighed heavily on Eleanor, but there was nothing she could do to break it. Eleanor's heart softened with a quiet sigh, though she masked it with a smile as she turned toward the door. She would have to be patient with Emma, as always.

As they left the room, Eleanor's voice softened. "Tomorrow's debut will be quite the event, won't it, Emma? I'm certain Eloise will be stunning." But Emma remained silent, not responding. Eleanor's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, before she joined Alfred in descending the stairs.

Upon entering the drawing room, they were greeted by Viscount Edmund, his warm, easy smile spreading as he saw his dear friends. He stepped forward with a firm handshake for Alfred and a kind embrace for Eleanor.

"Ah, Alfred, Eleanor," Edmund greeted them warmly. "I'm so pleased to see you both."

Eleanor returned the smile with her own. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Edmund. We were just talking about Eloise and her upcoming debut."

"Ah, yes," Edmund said with a gleam of pride in his eye. "It's tomorrow evening, and I wanted to extend the invitation to you both. We would be honored if you and your family could attend."

Eleanor's expression brightened. "Of course! We wouldn't miss it. Eloise must be very excited—and no doubt nervous."

"She is," Edmund replied with a chuckle. "But she's ready. My eldest, Kate, is already settled and happily married to the Earl of Westbrooke, and Harrison—well, he's off at university at the moment, but he'll be home soon for the summer. It'll be good to have him around for the event."

"And Eloise's debut is certainly going to be a grand affair," Alfred remarked with interest. "We'll be there for sure."

Eleanor smiled warmly, but as Edmund spoke of his children, her thoughts briefly wandered back to Emma. How she longed for Emma to find the same confidence Eloise was about to display. She could only hope that, in time, Emma would begin to open up more. The thought brought a soft sigh to her lips, but she quickly masked it with a pleasant expression as she continued the conversation.

"Thank you for the invitation, Edmund," Eleanor said. "We'll certainly be there to celebrate Eloise."

The conversation turned to final arrangements for the debut, but underneath it all, there was a gentle anticipation hanging in the air. Tomorrow's event would be more than just a debut—it would be a significant moment for everyone, perhaps even for Emma in her own way.