The wedding morning was gray and heavy, like the town was sad about it. A light fog covered the river, making the mill sounds quiet and far away. Ellie stood in front of the cracked mirror in her small bedroom at the cottage. Her hands shook as she wore her plain white dress that her mom had fixed up overnight. It was her nicest one—white with some old lace—but it felt like something for a funeral. At 21, she had dreamed of real love, not this fake setup.
Her mom, Clara, came in. Her eyes were red from not sleeping. "You look pretty, Ellie," she said softly, putting some wildflowers in her hair. "Like your dad always said, real beauty is inside."
Ellie tried to smile, but her voice broke. "Mom, how can I do this? Marry a guy who thinks I'm just a problem?"
Clara held her face. "For us, honey. The debts… I didn't tell you everything. Mr. Whitaker paid for the funeral and doctor bills. If we say no, we'll lose the house and my job. You'd be on the street, sewing for almost nothing."
Ellie's heart hurt, She knew now: her dad's mill accident didn't just kill him; it tied them to the Whitakers. "And after? When they change their minds?"
"We'll deal with that later," Clara said strong. "You're tough, Ellie. Tougher than they think".
Outside, a carriage waited—sent by the Whitakers to make sure she showed up. As it bumped toward town hall, Ellie looked at the streets she knew,the bakery with cheap bread, the library where Miss Abigail gave her books about love stories. Havenbrook was small, and news spread fast,by lunch, everyone would know.
Town hall was a solid brick place on Main Street, with a clock tower ringing sadly. Inside, it smelled like clean wood and old papers, only a few people were there,Mr and Mrs Whitaker, looking stiff; the mayor, Mr Hargrove, checking his watch; and some mill bosses who worked for them. No flowers or music—just what was needed to make it legal.
Theo got there last, stepping out in a nice gray suit that fit his tall body well. His dark hair was combed, but he looked tired. He nodded quick to Ellie, not looking at her eyes. "Miss Thompson," he said low,
"Mr. Whitaker," she answered, keeping cool even though her heart jumped.
Close up, he seemed more normal, a bit of beard shadow, a worry line on his forehead.
The wedding was fast, the words all mixed up in duty. "Do you, Theodore Whitaker, take Eleanor Thompson as your wife?"
Theo paused, his voice flat. "I do."
"And you, Eleanor Thompson, take Theodore Whitaker as your husband?"
Ellie's throat felt tight, for Mom, she thought. "I do."
They swapped plain gold rings, cold on her finger.
The mayor said they were married, and that was it. No kiss, no claps,just signing papers that tied them like a deal.
Outside, a small group watched, whispering like river water. "The rich guy and the cleaner's kid? Crazy!" "Probably debts." Ellie kept her head up, but her face got hot.
In the ride to the big house—now her place—quiet sat between them. Theo looked out the window, tapping his knee. Finally, he said, "I didn't want this either."
Ellie turned, surprised he was honest. "Then why say yes?"
"Duty," he said mad. "Dad's rules. The mills are everything, without the Langford deal, lots of people lose jobs—including your mom."
She nodded, feeling a bit better. "And Vivian Langford? Your mom's pick?"
Theo's face tightened. "Old kid plan. She's pushy. But this wedding stops the bad talk, locks the deal."
"Talk about you messing around?" Ellie asked, remembering Mr. Whitaker's words.
He looked at her, annoyed. "Made up. Enemies lying to hurt us. I'm not perfect, but I don't like trouble."
The big gates opened, and they walked into new life. Mrs. Whitaker met them at the door, with a fake smile ,"Welcome, Eleanor,your stuff is in the guest room. Theodore, your dad wants you in the study."
A maid showed Ellie her room—fancy with soft beds and garden view,it was huge compared to home, but like a jail. Unpacking her few things, she found a note under the door: "This isn't done. - V."
She felt cold. Vivian? So soon?
Downstairs, lunch was tense, Mr. Whitaker toasted the "happy pair," talking business. Mrs. Whitaker fussed over Theo, ignoring Ellie. "Vivian says hi," she said sharp. "Such a nice girl."
Plates clinked, then a worker brought a message. Mr. Whitaker read it, face going dark. "Mr. Langford says congrats—but talks about waits. Needs proof the marriage is real."
Theo frowned. "What else?"
"Time, maybe," Mrs. Whitaker said. "Or show it's not fake."
Ellie listened quiet, figuring it out. The wedding was just a move in a big game for money.
That night, Ellie walked by the garden for peace. Theo walked by with his hands in his pockets,
"Running away already?" he joked light.
"Just getting air," she said. "This house is too much."
He agreed, sitting on a bench,"I draw here sometimes, helps me think ."
"You draw?" Ellie asked surprised,"The big boss?"
A small smile. "Not that big. Dad says it's dumb. But it shows there's more than work."
For a bit, quiet was nice. Then the bushes moved, Vivian came out, holding an umbrella with her hair perfect in the fog.
"Theo, honey!" she said sweet, ignoring Ellie. "Mom sent wishes. And to see you-poor you, stuck in this joke."
Theo got stiff. "Vivian, this is wrong."
"Silly," she laughed, grabbing his arm. "We're friends. Eleanor doesn't care, right? You're just… short-term."
Ellie's anger grew. "What?"
Vivian's eyes shone. "Oh, they didn't say? After the deal, easy to end it. Debts gone, all good."
Theo pulled back. "Not set."
"But could be," Vivian said soft. "Unless problems happen."
She left, leaving bad feelings, Theo sighed. "Don't mind her. She's spoiled."
Ellie crossed her arms, "And bad, looks like."
As night got deep, Ellie laid in bed with bad whispers in her head. She didn't know, over town, Vivian talked with her dad and they planned on breaking the marriage, and taking the mill.
In the house, Theo looked at drawings—a rough river, now messy with worry. Duty tied them, what would make or break next?