The celebration, which began with an elegant quadrille, eventually filled with noisier, livelier music.
Now in the center of the hall, it was less the young people dancing than the older ones, moving merrily under the influence of the beer they had consumed.
At this stage, those who had not yet turned eighteen—and even small children—mingled with the crowd, dancing to the music.
There were those who, imitating adults, danced in pairs. Others, not knowing how to move properly, shifted their feet awkwardly.
But at this hour, no one paid it any mind. Everyone simply laughed and danced merrily.
---
Eloise, listening to the noise drifting up from below, wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"Enough helping already, Lady Eloise. Go upstairs."
"But—"
"If another drop of sauce gets on that white dress, I'll go mad with worry. So go on. Go." Mrs. Parker, as if to say everything was under control, nudged Eloise gently in the back.
This prompted Eloise to set down the dish she was holding.
Glancing around the kitchen, she saw it was far less chaotic than it had been an hour ago.
"It seems we prepared even more food than last year—so why did everything move so much faster?"
At this question, Mrs. Parker smiled and pointed toward Emily, still working diligently over a massive frying pan.
"It's all thanks to Emily. She's even more efficient than last year. And she manages everything so neatly."
Emily, ignoring the praise, remained focused on her cooking.
Mrs. Parker took Eloise by the hand and led her into the hallway outside the kitchen.
Then, ensuring Emily couldn't overhear, she spoke in a quiet voice:
"So... if you don't mind, my lady, perhaps next year we could entrust Emily with the preparations for the summer festival at Blissbury from the very beginning?"
"What? From the very beginning?"
Surprised, Eloise involuntarily raised her voice. Mrs. Parker pressed a finger to her lips and glanced back toward the kitchen. Fortunately, Emily—still engrossed in her work—seemed oblivious to their conversation.
Having calmed herself, Mrs. Parker continued:
"Yes. To be honest, this year my shoulder was aching, and I couldn't cook as quickly as before. She noticed and, saying she'd try it herself, started asking questions and took over everything. Both the desserts and even the main courses this year—Emily prepared most of them. Did you notice?"
"No..."
She truly hadn't known. The food, as always, had been excellent. And the guests were delighted.
So she had assumed Mrs. Parker had outdone herself again this year. But it turned out Emily had cooked nearly everything.
"She's a cunning girl—but kind. She was probably afraid that if I couldn't work anymore, they'd dismiss me. She didn't say a single word to you, my lady."
Mrs. Parker had been personally hired by Baron Stanford.
Her husband had been one of his adjutants and had died at the beginning of the war, shielding the Baron from a flying grenade with his own body.
The army paid her a pension and compensation, but it was not enough to last a lifetime.
Moreover, the adjutant's widow had no relatives and nowhere to go.
Upon learning this, Baron Stanford had personally employed her at his estate and promised her a permanent home. That woman was Mrs. Parker.
So even if she could no longer work in the kitchen, she would still remain here.
"Thanks to this, I saw Emily for who she truly is. Teaching a girl like that is a pleasure. The problem is..."
"That we'll need to find a new maid."
Eloise smiled bitterly.
Emily was the finest maid in all of Feltham. Efficient and meticulous, she excelled in everything from cooking to cleaning.
Moreover, she anticipated what needed doing next—and sometimes even urged Eloise, asking why she hadn't begun yet.
Every time the Severton family witnessed this, they agreed she was far too talented to remain a simple village servant.
That was why they brought her to Blissbury each year. Of course, her own wishes were paramount—but they wanted Emily to see more of the world and set higher ambitions for herself.
"Don't worry about our household. I'll speak with Emily myself, discreetly."
"Yes, please do, my lady."
Mrs. Parker bowed and returned to the kitchen.
Soon her voice could be heard instructing Emily on what else needed to be added.
---
Eloise walked up to the first floor with mixed feelings.
Mrs. Parker had been at Blissbury before Eloise came to Feltham.
So she had always assumed there would be Mrs. Parker in this kitchen.
But it appeared Emily would soon take her place.
And Blissbury, too. The estate she had thought her father would manage for the rest of his life—and then Ryan had arrived.
Eloise gazed out at the noisy banquet hall.
Those who, when she first came to Blissbury, had danced gaily in the center had grown grey and wrinkled with time. Now they stood at the back, watching the energetic young people.
Someday she, too, would stand in their place and observe. Who would then be master of Blissbury?
Baron Stanford was already advancing in years. He would soon pass the position to one of his children.
Would they, too, continue to hold the summer festival at Blissbury?
Even though it was a joyful celebration, for some reason her heart felt melancholy.
Eloise, seeking the coolness of the summer night, stood in the corridor and watched the festivities.
Then she noticed someone sitting on a chair that had been placed there for weary guests.
It was Abigail and Sergeant Osborne.
As they conversed, they caught sight of Eloise. They started slightly and moved apart from each other.
It seemed they hadn't even noticed how closely they'd been sitting until she appeared.
She intended to greet them and pass by, but Sergeant Osborne stood and addressed them both:
"I'll fetch something to drink."
When he departed for the banquet hall, Abigail called to Eloise.
"Sit here."
"But Sergeant Osborne will return soon..."
Abigail giggled.
"You know what we were discussing before you arrived? That if one needs to leave tactfully, it's better to say you're fetching drinks—and disappear."
At these words, Eloise laughed as well.
Sitting beside Abigail, Eloise looked out at the cheerful banquet hall.
Though they were silent, having been friends since childhood, there was no awkwardness between them.
They both gazed at the celebration for a long while before Abigail spoke first.
"It's fun," she said, as if to herself.
Eloise looked at her in surprise.
Abigail had always loved the summer festival. But she had never been able to say she *enjoyed* it.
Because of her injured leg, she had always sat alone to the side, merely watching.
Though Eloise came to speak with her from time to time, in Abigail's eyes—as she looked at others—one could read envy for what she did not possess.
But today, Abigail was different. Even though she wasn't dancing or mingling among the crowd, satisfaction was written across her face.
"Eloise, I wasn't really ill."
"Hm?"
Eloise's eyes widened at the unexpected words.
"What do you mean? I heard you weren't leaving the house because you were sick... Were there other problems?"
When asked about other problems, Abigail only smiled.
She couldn't admit she had been hurt because Eloise had gone to Blissbury with Sergeant Thornton.
But after speaking with Philip, she had begun to understand Eloise's feelings.
How interesting and captivating it was to listen to the stories of someone who had grown up in a completely different world—who had seen things she never would.
Laughing at Philip's words, she had caught sight of herself in a mirror and remembered how she had looked at Eloise with resentment.
Now she was the same as Eloise.
Thanks to this, she realized that Eloise, too, had simply been happy to meet someone new and learn about the world he had experienced.
And just as she still considered Eloise her dearest friend, so Eloise—while delighting in the new—did not neglect the old.
"Abigail?"
Seeing the worry in her friend's eyes, Abigail felt both satisfaction and guilt.
She shook her head and smiled.
"Sorry, it's a secret. I won't tell."
She did not yet have the courage to admit her own pettiness.
At that moment, Philip returned bearing glasses of cool drinks and handed them over. Then, saying he'd fetch one for himself, he departed again.
He instinctively understood the two of them still had things to discuss.
They both held their glasses and looked at each other for a moment.
She had thought this year would be the same as last year. But so many things had happened in just a few short months.
Abigail spoke first.
**"It would be lovely to be together next year, too."**
A friend with whom she had spent this occasion every year since childhood.
And who would remain with her in the future.
Eloise clinked her glass with a smile.
**"I hope next year will be just as wonderful."**
Amidst the increasingly boisterous celebration, Eloise and Abigail made their own private toast.