The rain hadn't fully stopped in Greystone Dock, but it had slowed to a quiet drizzle. The kind that hummed against rooftops and soaked the muddy roads without thunder, wrapping the small, brooding town in a blanket of cold and quiet solitude.
Residents had tucked themselves indoors. Chimneys breathed out lazy smoke. Shutters were drawn. The sea, visible from the hilltops, rolled in slow, dark waves, its salty scent creeping through the chilled breeze.
Down the main road, the sharp clip-clop of hooves echoed through the air. A dark, elegant carriage curved through the winding lane, wheels slicing softly through the slick mud. The insignia on its side shimmered faintly—the mark of House Blair.
Inside, Ewan Blair sat composed, dressed in a grey winter coat with raven-feather trim, a subtle statement of nobility without arrogance. His gloved hand rested over a small parcel by his side—a gift chosen with care.
The carriage halted just in front of the modest Grantham residence.
From the small sitting room window, Marianne peered through the glass, her breath fogging the corner as she narrowed her eyes. The glint of the crest gave her pause before she recognized the visitor.
She moved swiftly to the door, opening it just as he stepped down from the carriage.
"Good morning, Lord Blair," she greeted warmly.
"Good morning, Lady Marianne." Ewan bowed slightly, his voice carrying the polished tone of nobility, yet soft enough to belong in any honest home.
"Please do come in. The weather's not that favourable," she said, motioning him inside.
"Thank you, Lady Marianne," he replied, stepping into the warmth of the cottage.
Almost immediately, Maeryn appeared from the hallway, her apron dusted with flour and cinnamon. Her golden-brown curls were pinned back, but a few rebellious strands framed her pretty, curious face.
"Good day, Lady Maeryn," Ewan said with another slight bow.
"Morning, Master Blair." Her smile was radiant but measured—Maeryn had always been the more curious of the two sisters.
"Do take a seat, Lord Blair," Marianne offered as she closed the door behind them. "Let's not have you standing like the rain itself."
"I appreciate the hospitality," Ewan said with a gentle smile as he removed his gloves and settled into the sitting room's modest sofa.
The hearth crackled softly nearby, and the smell of spices wafted in from the kitchen.
"What would we offer you, Lord Blair?" Marianne asked, her smile broad.
"Uhm, anything would do fine, Milady." He said in his polite and calm tone.
"Unfortunately, we do not have such labelled tea or coffee called 'anything'." Maeryn said smirking. She had always been the more merrier one and troublesome too.
Ewan Blair laughed. "Cofee would do great, lady Maeryn."
"Ok, I'll be back in a moment." She said and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Ignore Maeryn, she'll trouble you to her heart's content when she likes you." Marianne said.
Ewan didn't replied but smiled to the comment, he had always known the jolly one among the two.
Moments later, Maeryn returned with a porcelain cup and saucer,steam curling from the freshly brewed coffee.
"Something to warm you up," she said, handing it over with care.
Ewan accepted it graciously. "It smells wonderful. Thank you."
Marianne sat opposite him, folding her hands in her lap. "So, how fares your work, Lord Blair?"
"Busy as always," he replied. "Trade contracts are as fickle as the tide. Greystone's port has seen fewer ships of late, but the inland nobles still demand their luxuries."
"Greystone can be slow," Maeryn said, settling on the edge of a footstool. "But it keeps its secrets well."
Ewan raised a brow. "I imagine that's what keeps it interesting."
They chuckled together.
"Speaking of interesting," Maeryn said, tilting her head, "how is our Elowen faring?"
He took a sip before answering. "She's well. Still adapting to her new role, I imagine."
"She's always been one to adapt quickly," Marianne said proudly.
Ewan smiled. "She tells you of her time at the manor?"
"Bits and pieces," Maeryn replied. "She's oddly quiet about it sometimes."
"She's faring well at the Ravenshade Manor," he said carefully, watching their reactions.
"That's good," Marianne nodded. "It's also good you both have been talking."
"Hmm," Maeryn added teasingly, "Isn't it, though?"
They both giggled in that shared sisterly way that always made visitors feel like they were being sized up—gently, but thoroughly.
Ewan chuckled softly, then leaned slightly forward and produced a neatly wrapped designer bag from the side of his coat.
"For Elowen," he said, extending it to Marianne.
Marianne blinked in mild surprise. "Oh, my…"
"A small gesture. Something I thought might suit her."
"Thank you, Lord Blair." Marianne accepted it with a gracious nod, eyeing it like it might hold treasure—or gossip.
"Your package will be delivered," Maeryn added with a knowing tone.
Ewan rose smoothly. "Then I shall take my leave. I imagine she'll be home soon."
"Take care, Lord Blair," Maeryn said, rising with him.
"Safe travels," Marianne added.
He bowed, tipped his head politely, and stepped back out into the grey mist.
As his carriage wheels started to churn back down the road, Marianne looked down at the gift again. Elegant. Expensive. Exquisitely packaged.
"Well," she said, turning toward the sitting room.
Maeryn followed, her grin growing wider. "We're not going to open it, are we?"
Marianne's brows lifted. "Should we take a little peek?"
Maeryn gasped. "Didn't know you could be the sly one."
They burst into laughter.
"But we'll wait," Marianne said. "Elowen deserves to open it first."
"Still…" Maeryn whispered, already inching closer to the paper.
They both hovered.
Just a corner, perhaps...
***
Outside, the rain picked up again, the wind dancing through Greystone Dock as the house settled into silence once more—waiting for the return of its wildflower.
And somewhere along the road back to Eldhollow, Ewan Blair sat quietly in his carriage, fingers resting thoughtfully against the glass.
His smile was faint, his eyes unreadable.
But his thoughts?
Far too curious for comfort.