The banquet concluded well past two in the morning.
Guests departed effusive in their praise, delighted by the more varied and sophisticated menu this year compared to the last. Mrs. Severton's taste, they declared, was impeccable.
In such circumstances, most hostesses would accept such compliments with modest demurral.
But Mrs. Severton was nothing if not honest.
"Oh, heavens no—I can claim no credit whatsoever. Eloise and Mrs. Parker managed all the dishes entirely. And our Emily was an enormous help as well."
Emily, who had just risen to assist the maids in clearing the remnants, straightened her shoulders at Mrs. Severton's praise and descended the stairs with a distinctly lighter step.
Ryan stood at the entrance, bidding farewell to guests as they boarded their carriages.
"The evening was absolutely wonderful! We do hope to see you again next year!"
They spoke as though it were already certain that Ryan would remain as manager for another season.
It was not only Ryan and Mrs. Severton who saw the guests off.
"Safe travels, Miss Patricia. I look forward to our next meeting with great anticipation." Richard, who had been seated beside Patricia throughout the banquet, walked her naturally to her carriage and pressed a kiss to her gloved hand.
Patricia's face—even beneath the darkness of the night sky—illuminated so completely that everyone present could see it.
And not only Patricia.
Julia, who had sat beside Philip. Noella. Liliet. Charlotte.
Richard bid farewell with equal politeness and warmth to every unmarried woman who had attended the banquet.
Eloise, Abigail, and Philip stood together on the porch, observing this display.
"What a... *sociable* person he is, isn't he?"
At Eloise's observation, Philip dragged a hand down his face.
"Yes. The trouble is that this sociability of his only manifests itself with certain people."
Abigail, standing nearby, laughed cheerfully at Philip's words.
Eloise glanced at her friend in surprise.
When Abigail was with Eloise, she was lively and animated. But around others—particularly men she did not know well—she typically fell silent.
It was not so much fear as hostility. A deliberate desire to maintain distance.
Eloise could hardly blame her. After all, both she and Abigail were considered "unsuitable matches" on the marriage market.
But with Eloise, the stigma was less immediately apparent. The moment Abigail leaned upon her crutch, however, she was met with glances—some dripping with pity, others with poorly concealed contempt.
So Abigail had learned to avoid places where men her own age gathered.
And yet here, at the words of Philip—whom she had met only today—she laughed so easily.
*Perhaps things can change*, Eloise thought, just as she noticed Ryan returning from seeing off the final guest.
"Richard. Philip." His voice was casual. "It's been some time. We need to talk."
At first glance, one might assume he simply wished to catch up with friends he hadn't seen in a while.
But Eloise detected an icy note beneath the pleasant tone.
As if to confirm she hadn't imagined it, both Richard—still smiling and waving at the departing carriage—and Philip—whose expression immediately sobered—followed Ryan into the house without question.
*Aren't they friends?*
Yet judging by how they behaved around Ryan, the dynamic seemed more akin to commander and subordinates.
*I thought their ranks weren't so different.*
So why did they defer to him so readily?
"Well then, I'll retire to my room." Abigail's voice drew Eloise from her thoughts. "Is my usual room still available?"
Most guests from Cambon had departed that evening. The summer festival, beginning the day after tomorrow, was a social event that welcomed everyone—farmers included.
Because of this, the high society guests from Cambon, who valued their reputations above all, preferred to leave after enjoying the banquet rather than mingle with common folk.
But the Ogilvy family was different.
Not that they didn't value their reputation.
In Feltham, they were the second most distinguished family after the Severtons.
But the Ogilvys had lived in Feltham for over a century, and they were, at heart, more hospitable neighbors than stuffy aristocrats.
Therefore, the Ogilvy family always attended the summer festival in full, and Blissbury provided them rooms as a matter of course.
This year, the maids had shown them to their quarters. Naturally, Abigail's room was prepared.
"Of course. And this year, it's right next to mine."
Abigail smiled broadly. Eloise always arranged for her to have a ground-floor room, sparing her the difficulty of navigating stairs.
She had worried that since Abigail's arrival was uncertain, the maids might have repurposed the room or left it unprepared. But it seemed everything had been kept ready, just in case.
Seeing her friend's happy expression, Eloise felt a quiet calm settle over her.
*I thought she was seriously ill.*
Thankfully, Abigail seemed entirely herself.
During their dinner in the sitting room earlier, Abigail had apologized repeatedly, yet there was something almost relieved in her manner.
"You go rest," Eloise said. "I'll help tidy up a bit, then join you."
With that, she headed toward the banquet hall.
---
After the guests departed, the hall was in complete disarray.
No matter how decorous the company, the remnants of a feast for several dozen always looked untidy.
While the maids cleared away dishes, Eloise carefully transferred the fragile decorations from the tables into the cupboard for safekeeping.
Then she counted the silverware the maids had returned freshly washed. Fortunately, nothing had gone missing this year.
She summoned Mr. Palmer, handed over all the silver, and surveyed the now nearly pristine expanse of the great table.
Although she had dined separately with Abigail due to limited space, Eloise was technically one of the hostesses—she could hardly have avoided appearing altogether.
Fortunately, during dinner, an elderly lady had wished to rest, and Eloise had briefly occupied her seat.
Once settled, she had first observed the guests who had arrived shortly before the banquet.
Richard had already befriended his tablemates and was chatting animatedly. Philip, by comparison, still appeared somewhat awkward.
But at least he maintained conversation with those around him, so she had allowed herself to relax slightly.
Then her gaze had drifted to Ryan.
He conversed cheerfully with his neighbors. But occasionally, when his eyes flicked to the seat across from him, a look of irritation flickered briefly across his features.
The moment anyone addressed him, however, the expression vanished entirely. Others did not seem to notice.
*Surely he isn't unhappy about his friends' arrival?*
From what little she had heard, Richard and Philip had fought alongside Ryan in many battles.
Since their ranks were similar, they must have been close—inseparable, even. Surely he couldn't be displeased to see such companions...
*Or perhaps he's merely a little put out?*
She recalled the clearly disappointed faces of Julia and Patricia.
Patricia, at least, had seemed to brighten somewhat after speaking with Richard. But Julia, seated beside Philip, had not. Although Richard had attempted to draw Julia into conversation, her disappointment at surrendering her preferred seat had apparently not faded.
And so, the problem that had been tormenting Eloise had resolved itself in the most absurd way possible.
She ran a finger across her lips.
It was embarrassing to admit, but the moment she had witnessed Julia and Patricia's disappointed faces, she had felt... *relieved*.
*Ha-ah...*
She knew precisely where that feeling originated, and the knowledge made her soul even more uneasy.
Truly pathetic jealousy.
---
Having confirmed the banquet hall was nearly restored to order, Eloise departed.
A glance at her watch revealed it was already past three-thirty.
*I need to change quickly and get to bed.*
Lately, living at Blissbury, she had tried to adhere to the banquet schedule as much as possible. Still, she typically rose and retired at the same hours as the farmers of Feltham.
Besides, the excitement of the banquet had finally passed, and the relief left her feeling even more thoroughly exhausted.
Returning to the corridor, Eloise made her way toward her room—then stopped abruptly.
Nearby stood the door to the room where Ryan and his friends had retreated.
*Are they still talking?*
They hadn't seen each other in so long. Surely they had much to discuss.
*Ah—I need to show the guests to their rooms.*
Although Richard and Philip had arrived unexpectedly, fortunately there were vacant chambers. Before the banquet, she had asked the maids to prepare them.
They had promised everything would be ready before the evening concluded. It was time to escort the guests properly.
*Knock-knock.*
Eloise rapped gently on the door. A moment later, Ryan opened it.
"Eloise?" His eyebrows rose slightly. "What is it?"
"I wanted to show your guests to their rooms—"
"Rooms?"
Ryan chuckled. The sound held no warmth.
**"Albion's seasoned soldiers don't require cozy accommodations. Give me the key to a spare barn."**