Whispers in the Garden

The evening light bathed the garden in a golden haze, softening the edges of the world as Ellery wandered aimlessly along the stone paths. The estate’s gardens had always been her refuge, a place where she could escape the demands of court life, the expectations that weighed on her every movement, every word. Today, however, the beauty of the garden did little to soothe her restlessness.

There had been talk of an important guest arriving soon—a lord of some renown, though she hadn’t bothered to ask which one. Banquets and gatherings had become routine, the endless cycle of noblemen and lords seeking her father’s favor wearing her thin. She sighed, brushing her fingers along the edges of the roses that bordered the path. At least out here, she could avoid the suffocating formality of it all.

As she meandered, her mind drifted. She often imagined her future in these gardens. What would it hold? Would she marry someone kind, someone who understood her heart? She had long ago accepted that her marriage would be arranged—likely a political match. But she had always held onto the faint hope that it wouldn’t be a cruel union, that perhaps, somewhere in the world, there was a nobleman who valued more than just alliances and dowries.

She wandered toward the ancient stone fountain at the heart of the garden, her sanctuary within the sanctuary. The sound of trickling water calmed her as she took a seat on the fountain’s edge. The wind stirred the blossoms, carrying their sweet fragrance through the air, mingling with the distant sounds of the estate’s preparations.

Suddenly, voices broke through the tranquility.

Ellery froze. The voices were low, urgent, and familiar. She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. Hidden by the thick hedges that circled the fountain, she realized the voices belonged to her father and—Lord Calhoun.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but something about their hushed tones rooted her to the spot. They were standing just beyond the hedge, their conversation too close for her to ignore.

“You must understand the importance of this, my lord,” Calhoun was saying, his voice smooth, but edged with authority. “The arrangement benefits both our houses. A marriage between your daughter and myself will secure our futures.”

Ellery’s breath caught in her throat. Marriage?

Her father hesitated before speaking. “I agree, Lord Calhoun. But Ellery… she knows nothing of this. She’s still young, and I had hoped—”

“There is no more time for hesitation,” Calhoun interrupted, his tone hardening. “Your debts are no secret, Lord Ferroway. Without this marriage, your estate will fall into ruin. Surely you wouldn’t condemn your daughter to such a fate.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Debts? Her father had never mentioned financial troubles before. The estate had always seemed prosperous, grand. But now, hearing it laid bare in Calhoun’s cold, calculating voice, she realized just how precarious their situation truly was.

“You ask too much,” her father replied, his voice strained. “Ellery… she deserves better than to be bartered away like a piece of property.”

“Better?” Calhoun’s voice was full of disdain. “You speak of better when your estate is crumbling beneath you? She will be well cared for as my wife, and your name will be restored to its rightful place. What more could you ask for?”

Ellery’s pulse quickened. The weight of what she was hearing pressed down on her like a heavy stone. Marriage. Not just to anyone, but to Lord Calhoun—a man known for his ambition, his wealth, and his ruthlessness. She had met him only once, at a banquet, where he had barely spared her a glance. She had thought little of him then, but now… now he was to be her husband?

Her father’s voice softened, almost pleading. “I have always wanted the best for my daughter, Calhoun. This… this is not what I had envisioned for her.”

“Then you are a fool, Ferroway,” Calhoun snapped. “In these times, survival is all that matters. And without this union, your family’s legacy will be nothing but dust.”

The garden seemed to still, the world narrowing to the sound of their voices. Ellery’s mind raced. She felt as if she were watching her life being stripped away, reduced to a mere transaction between men. She was no longer a daughter, a person with her own thoughts and dreams—she was a means to an end, a pawn in a game of power and wealth.

“You will speak to her tomorrow,” Calhoun continued, his voice leaving no room for argument. “The engagement must be announced at the banquet.”

Her father sighed, a sound so full of weariness and defeat that Ellery’s heart twisted. “Very well,” he said at last, his voice low. “I will speak to her.”

Footsteps shuffled, and Ellery knew they were leaving. She waited until the voices had faded completely before she dared to move. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind reeling from what she had just overheard.

Married to Lord Calhoun? The thought was incomprehensible. She had always known she would marry for the good of her family, but this… this was a nightmare. Lord Calhoun was cold, calculating, and cruel. The thought of spending her life as his wife, of living in a gilded cage, was unbearable.

She stood, her legs shaking, and stumbled away from the fountain, away from the garden. Her father—how could he agree to this? How could he give her away like this, knowing what kind of man Calhoun was?

The answer was clear. Her father was trapped, just as she was. The weight of the estate, the debts, the pressures of nobility—he had no choice. But did that mean she didn’t either?

Ellery hurried toward the stables, her mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t marry Calhoun. But where could she turn? Who would listen to her?

Simon.

The thought of him grounded her, bringing a sliver of hope into her otherwise dark thoughts. Simon had always been kind, always made her feel seen in a way no one else did. The stable hand had been a constant presence in her life, someone she trusted without question. He might not have power, but he would listen. He always did.

When she reached the stables, she found Simon brushing down one of the horses, his back to her. The familiar scent of hay and earth greeted her as she stepped inside.

“Simon,” she called softly, her voice trembling.

He turned, his brow furrowing at the sight of her. “Lady Ellery?” His eyes, warm and full of concern, scanned her face. “What’s happened?”

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice, but the weight of what she had heard threatened to crush her. “My father…” she began, her voice breaking. “He’s promised me to Lord Calhoun. I overheard them. The marriage is to be announced tomorrow.”

Simon’s eyes darkened, his hands stilling on the horse’s mane. “Lord Calhoun?” His voice was low, dangerous. “But he’s twice your age, and known for his cruelty.”

“I know,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. “But my father is in debt. He feels he has no choice, and neither do I.”

Simon stepped closer, his voice soft but fierce. “There is always a choice, Ellery.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name on his lips. It was the first time he had ever spoken it so plainly, without the formality that separated their worlds. “What choice do I have? Run away? Leave everything I’ve ever known?”

Simon’s gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “If it’s freedom you seek, then yes. Leave. I’ll help you. You don’t have to marry a man like Calhoun.”

Ellery stared at him, her mind spinning. Leave? Could she really? It seemed impossible, unthinkable. Yet, standing there, with Simon’s eyes locked on hers, it didn’t seem as impossible as it had moments ago.

“I don’t want to live like this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be trapped.”

“Then don’t be,” Simon said softly, taking her hand in his. “We’ll leave tonight. We’ll find a life where you’re free to choose your own path.”

For a long moment, Ellery said nothing, her heart torn between duty and desire. Then, slowly, she nodded, a new resolve hardening within her.

“Let’s go,” she whispered. 

Together, they turned toward the open road, where the future stretched out before them—unknown, but finally theirs to shape.