Previously
Eleanora meets her childhood friend Clara, who works in Highbury and shares gossip about Killian Blackwell's rude behavior. Clara encourages Eleanora to move to the city or marry a wealthy man, but Eleanora remains content with her quiet life despite her hidden grief and insomnia.
Confusion rippled across Killian’s sullen face.
( ‘My complexion?’ )
Killian’s grip tightened around the paper bag in his hands, making it rustle loudly.
“…”
When Killian said nothing, Eleanora immediately thought to herself,
‘Hmm. So he didn’t eat it.’
She had practically forced it into his hands, so it was entirely possible he hadn’t touched it. Still, the thought that the candied ginger she had labored over might have ended up in the trash stung a little.
‘Well, there’s no reason to be upset.’
Just as Eleanora collected herself, about to apologize for bothering him and excuse herself…
His low voice reached her ears, ringing so clearly that there was no mistaking what she had heard.
Eleanora blurted out before she could even think.
Eleanora gave a nod.
Killian tipped his chin forward, gesturing for her to walk ahead. Eleanora nodded and picked up her pace, resuming the walk she had paused moments before.
It seemed sharing a destination did not mean they would ever walk side by side. Following one behind the other like this, they looked remarkably like a line of ducks.
‘He must have eaten it all if he’s in such a rush for more.’
And evidently, the remedy had worked quite well.
The corner of Eleanora’s mouth curled slightly. Even her steps, so heavy just moments ago, felt remarkably light.
Meanwhile, as Killian walked behind her, he replayed how on earth he had ended up in this situation.
Not long ago, he had been walking back from the commercial district with Owen.
Then Owen had suddenly piped up,
With that single sentence, he had abandoned Killian in the middle of the road and bolted straight back toward the high street.
Well, it was understandable enough. If he didn't hurry, he wouldn't have been able to send it in time.
‘Regardless, ever since coming here, I feel as though I’ve bought enough ginger to last a lifetime.’
It was just ginger coated in sugar. He had never imagined the shops wouldn't carry something so simple, leaving him no choice but to buy more raw ginger.
What on earth was he doing? He might not have much business here, but spending his time making candied ginger was hardly entertaining.
( ‘If I fail again, then…’ )
Eleanora’s face flashed in his mind. The moment it did, Killian shuddered as if struck by lightning.
( ‘Me… imagining a woman? No matter how badly I need candied ginger, that hardly justifies…’ )
Yet the timing was almost comical. His gaze happened to land on a familiar profile just ahead.
Eleanora was waving her hand to someone, then quietly turned around. The moment Killian saw her, his brow furrowed.
( ‘What rotten luck…’ )
Don’t look back. Just keep walking straight ahead.
He willed it silently as he kept walking, maintaining a deliberate distance between them.
Yet Eleanora was walking so slowly—far too slowly—that the gap between them began to shrink inch by inch.
( ‘What is wrong with her?’ )
Just moments ago, when she had been waving with such enthusiasm, she had looked brimming with energy. Now she looked truly ill.
Killian’s gaze stayed fixed on her back. Whenever she stopped, he stopped too. Whenever she resumed walking, his feet moved in step.
( ‘Could she actually be sick?’ )
And if the doctor fell ill, what was one supposed to do?
Mr. Thorne had mentioned earlier that one had to go to the commercial district to find a doctor. But could a sick person ride a horse all that distance on their own?
Just as his thoughts wandered that far… Eleanora turned around.
An outcome he hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.
Killian’s heart gave a violent jolt.
The faint, sickly demeanor from moments earlier was gone, replaced by a polite, pleasant greeting.
In an instant, the turmoil in Killian’s chest quieted.
Or rather, it didn’t quite quiet down. His heart still fluttered, but the sensation was entirely different from the uneasy tremor he had felt before.
It felt as though a sudden, gentle breeze had washed over him. Or as if he had been set down in a field of fresh blossoms without a trace of any repulsive scent.
Killian wanted to understand this strange, sudden sensation, but he had to figure out what to say to her first.
What was he supposed to answer? “Good evening”?
If he said that, that smiling face of hers would likely keep right on smiling.
Suddenly, the smiling face of his nanny surfaced in his memory. True to form, sharp words flew from his mouth.
For a fleeting moment, he felt he had made a mistake, but the regret vanished just as quickly.
It was true that this woman put him strangely at ease compared to others, but surely, if the distance between them narrowed any further, he wouldn't be able to endure the revulsion.
Wait… Come to think of it, something was odd.
( ‘Why does she keep smiling while talking to me like this?’ )
At the Thornes’ dinner table, she had been openly slighted for being a doctor. That alone was enough to wound one’s pride severely. How could she still manage to behave with such gentleness?
( ‘It is truly suspicious.’ )
Yet, here he was, following this suspicious woman anyway.
What was the secret behind that damned candied ginger?
Killian resolved that this time, he would purchase a massive supply. Then he would have no reason to ever seek her out again, wouldn't he?
Eleanora offered after stepping into the clinic grounds first, stopping exactly twenty paces away from him.
Eleanora swallowed a sigh. He didn't have to refuse quite so curtly.
she asked, forcing a smile onto her face.
Leaving the clinic door ajar, Eleanora vanished into the building. While she was gone, Killian surveyed his surroundings.
( ‘Is this really a medical clinic?’ )
To anyone passing by, it looked like an ordinary house.
Yet the scent certainly belonged to an infirmary. Even at this distance, he could catch the distinct smell of disinfectant.
Living in a place like this had evidently caused the scent of antiseptics to cling to her as well.
Killian’s gaze drifted to the weathered sign hung at the clinic entrance. It was a wooden plaque that looked ready to snap at any moment, the words “Winter Medical Center” barely legible without squinting.
Judging by the wear of time, it seemed her father had established the clinic rather than her.
Where was her father now, though? And how had she ended up bearing the title of the only doctor in this town?
Had he handed his practice down to his grown daughter and ventured out into the wider world? It was plausible.
( ‘Are there no other family members?’ )
Suddenly, the name Elliot Winter surfaced in Killian’s mind.
Winter. It was a common enough surname.
Yet finding another doctor who shared it was far from common.
( ‘Come to think of it, they said Elliot Winter had light brown hair and green eyes too.’ )
Neither feature was rare on its own. But could two people really share that many similarities?
If this woman had a brother… or a relative with that name… It was an extremely remote possibility. Still, what harm was there in looking into it?
Just then, Killian caught sight of something fluttering above the building and tilted his head up.
Curtains swayed back and forth through an open window on the second floor.
( ‘Is that her room?’ )
The curtains appeared to be trimmed with lace. No one in their right mind would hang lace curtains in a medical clinic.
‘She mentioned that some women aren’t suited for lacework.’
Judging by the fact that the lace wasn’t part of the original curtain fabric and looked sewn on afterward, she had clearly stitched it on herself.
And with craftsmanship that neat, Eleanora Winter had to be one of the women who excelled at needlework.
Eleanora called out as she stepped out of the building. Killian hastily pulled his gaze down.
The curtain had simply caught his eye because it was fluttering. He wasn't spying on her in the least.
Even standing here, it was impossible to see anything inside the room anyway.
Even so… someone else might interpret it quite differently.