Campbell's youngest daughter, Elena, was coming home!
When the maid Mary first heard the news, she was both surprised and delighted. As everyone knew—or rather, all the servants at the Campbell household knew—Elena had left home three months ago. It was Mary herself who had packed her luggage at that time! When Elena left, Lady Campbell didn't say where she was going. Only later, when guests asked, did the lady mention that Elena had gone to a distant relative's house to recuperate.
Elena's illness had once caused great concern. Her health required long-term care and recovery, so it was understandable that she chose to leave Ludenton, a place filled with polluted air, to go somewhere more suitable for healing.
However, what puzzled Mary was that this time, Elena returned without any luggage. Lady Campbell even specially assigned two maids to help her with shopping and carefully arranged her room. This made Mary suspicious—had Elena's recuperation not been completed? Was she going back again?
At the Campbell household, the boundary between masters and servants was not so strict, so Mary mustered courage to ask Lady Campbell about Elena's situation while shopping. The lady only smiled faintly and said that once Elena returned, Mary would naturally know.
In reality, Lady Campbell was full of anxiety beneath her calm appearance. Last month, she had received a letter from Elena, vaguely mentioning the need to take refuge in the countryside and advising her not to send letters to the club's address for the time being. This filled Lady Campbell with worry, fearing that Elena might encounter danger in the countryside but was afraid to ask for fear of causing trouble.
In the days that followed, she had her carriage pass by the club, but it was already deserted. She thought Elena had gone to the countryside and waited eagerly for a letter from there, never expecting to hear that Elena was about to return home.
Elena had always been headstrong. Previously, worried that her appearance might cause trouble, she had decisively moved to the club. Now that she was returning home, did something go wrong at the club or in the countryside? Maybe she feared her letters would be intercepted, because aside from informing about her return, the letter mentioned nothing else.
What exactly happened? Was Elena alright?
On the day specified in the letter, Lady Campbell rose early and had Mary keep watch by the door for any signs of movement outside. Lady Campbell sat by the window on the second floor, and whenever she heard the sound of carriage wheels, she would unconsciously look up.
Her eldest daughter, Elena's sister Janet, was also watching closely. Just as the morning sun rose, a carriage slowly arrived and stopped at the Campbell gate. A girl in a pale blue morning dress stepped down, carrying a carpet bag, and gently rang the doorbell.
Hearing the bell, Mary quickly opened the door and looked at the familiar girl with delight. "Miss Elena, you've come back."
Almost at the same moment, Lady Campbell sprang up and hurried downstairs with surprising vigor for her age. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw her daughter. Janet, who followed her out, also brightened. "Elena, you're back!"
"Thank you, Mary," Elena's voice was still hoarse, as if she hadn't fully recovered. Mary helped carry the carpet bag, and together they went inside.
Lady Campbell and Janet looked at Elena, filled with joy and emotion. After all, they had seen Elena's previously swollen figure and the unnatural reddish complexion hidden beneath heavy makeup. Lady Campbell even doubted her own memory—had she really sent Elena to a convalescent home and not some strange club?
"Mom, sister," Elena greeted them with a hug and a bow. Lady Campbell nearly cried. "It's such a relief you returned safely."
Afterward, accompanied by her mother and sister, Elena toured her newly refurbished room. Since she had taken all her belongings when she went to the club, this time the whole room was brand new.
After breakfast, Elena briefly recounted her past three months to her mother, cleverly concealing the details of the transformation talisman, ghostly journeys, and ritual magic—things unfit for ordinary people to know. Despite this, Lady Campbell was still quite frightened.
"You didn't harm anyone," Lady Campbell said angrily. "What right did that tribunal have to arrest you?"
Elena shook her head. "I don't know either, but it's best not to tell Father about this."
"Speaking of your father," Lady Campbell frowned and looked her daughter over carefully, "you've been through a lot and have become a mature adult. About your father and brother… they…"
Elena's eyes widened. Such a start always made her expect bad news.
"Things seem to be chaotic over in France," Lady Campbell said with worry. "They had planned to meet with some opera singers and discuss buying play copyrights… but now…"
Yes, the Campbell family owned a theatre.
This was no small matter. For a long time, under the strict licensing system for patent theatres, only two theatres in Ludenton could perform legitimate plays: the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden and the Ludenton Theatre on Drury Lane. Back in the previous century, the Campbells had the honor of obtaining a patent license to run a theatre, a privilege passed down through the generations.
Now, Elena's father, the second son of the current Earl Campbell, held the position of manager at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. This was a respectable post, of course, subsidized openly by the Earl, as Elena's father was well-liked in the family and had a keen interest in drama.
Because only two theatres could perform plays, competition was fierce, with actors being poached and the same plays staged by both theatres. Other theatres without licenses had not given up; although barred from staging plays, they secretly thrived by putting on comedies and musical dramas not restricted by the law.
If things stayed that way, it would be fine; everyone could earn a living. But unfortunately, this year a shocking announcement spread through the theatre world: the Theatres Act was going to abolish play licensing, meaning all theatres could freely stage dramas. This news threw Mr. Campbell into a panic.
To secure the theatre's future, he decided to travel personally to France to study the most popular and cutting-edge theatrical methods there. After all, France was the cultural center of Europe, home to many famous composers and playwrights.
At least, he wouldn't let the Royal Opera House collapse under his management, or else he would become a disgrace to the Campbell family forever.
Lady Campbell fully supported this trip. If the Royal Opera House were to fail, her husband would lose not only a stable job but also the Campbell family's backing, plunging the entire household into crisis. But she hadn't expected that in just three months, France would erupt into chaos.
"When was their last letter?" Elena asked, a bit anxious herself. She thought that since she was supposed to return around three months, her father and brother should be on the ship home by now, unlikely to be caught up in the French unrest.
"They said they had already bought their tickets," Lady Campbell wasn't so optimistic. "What if it's too chaotic to board the ship?"
Elena quickly comforted her mother and used herself as an example—if she could return safely, surely her father and brother would too.
Still, Lady Campbell couldn't shake her anxiety and could only pray silently that everything would be safe and sound.
After speaking with her mother, Elena lay down on her new sheets for a while. Then she unpacked her carpet bag, took out a golden mirror, and performed her usual prayer to the goddess of beauty. Seeing the conch shell in the bag, she had a sudden thought—if her father and brother were in danger at sea, perhaps she could ask her mermaid sister Lilian for help. Though if that were the case, Lilian would probably have to endure coming to the filthy Ludenton River.
She called a maid and asked if any letters had arrived. After confirming there were none, she began writing letters.
Back home, with her normal appearance and official status restored, she could finally write a letter to the Duke of Berkeley with dignity. Elena had many questions to ask about her luggage, the tribunal, and Vera and the others' conditions. But in this era, letters weren't guaranteed to be safe, and even wax seals were no guarantee. So she had to hint at things in a veiled manner.
Additionally, Elena wanted to inform the Duke that those romantic novels chasing after love didn't please the discerning goddess—they might try something more private and direct, like "oral literature." Of course, she didn't say this openly, since as a lady she had to maintain her dignity.
After finishing the letter to the Duke of Berkeley, she wrote another to the editors of *The Lady's Monthly*, informing them of her new address. Though her appearance was restored and she no longer needed to write as "Helen," as an author she still wanted to finish her novel properly.
Having written these two letters, Elena finally felt she could rest peacefully on her new sheets.