Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1)

He looked confused. Ella hesitated again, then suddenly set her small chin and looked up at him.

‘Take me with you,’ she said, her voice trembling, her eyes two shining pleas. ‘I do not wish to go to this ball. I do not wish to dance with Sir Philip. I do not wish to be in any man’s arms but yours. Take me away from the place, just as you said you would.’

‘Tonight? Now? But Ella, the preparations…’

‘I don't care about preparations! I only care that I love you, and that I want to be with you. Take me away, Edmund, please!’

Edmund closed his eyes.

‘I am sorry, my love, but I cannot,’ he whispered. ‘I could not yet procure a marriage license. And I will not soil your honour by taking you without the knowledge that I can make you my wife, to love and to hold.’

There were tears in Ella’s eyes.

‘Then, it is adieu for us, Edmund. I shall go to the ball. You will procure a license as quickly as you can, I know that. Just… just don't take too long. And know that whatever might happen, my heart will always be yours.’

‘Whatever might happen?’ His eyes snapped open, hearing the weight of her words. ‘You don't mean to say that… Ella, you don't think Sir Philip will chose tonight to ask you to… oh, I cannot even say the words! Tell me, darling! Tell me that it will not be tonight!’

Ella remained silent. I had spent enough time around Mr Ambrose to be able to distinguish different kinds of silence. Hers was the silence of someone who wished to speak, but could not.

‘Ella!’ With both hands, Edmund reached through the bars, attempting to grasp her shoulders. But she retreated a step, out of his reach. ‘Ella, at least tell me that if he asks you tonight, you will not say yes! Please! I beg you!’

Ella’s tears were rivulets now, streaming down both her cheeks.

‘I… I cannot,’ she whispered.

‘Ella!’

‘G-goodbye, Edmund. Goodbye, my love.’

‘Ellaaa!’

His cry echoed through an empty garden.

~~*~~*

On my way into the house I actually had to blow my nose. Had the scene in the garden moved me to tears? Or was I getting a cold? The latter possibility seemed much more likely to me.

I slipped quietly inside and made my way up to our room. As I entered, Ella, who was sitting in front of the mirror, jumped and tried to conceal her tear-stained face - until she saw it was me. Then she didn’t bother. Our eyes met, brown to blue. There was a silent agreement in hers, which, I was sure, was mirrored in mine. She didn’t ask where I had been all day, and I didn’t ask why tears were running down her cheeks.

Without saying a word, I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to her. Hers was already too wet to be of any use. She took it with a thankful expression. Having dried her cheeks, she proceeded to help me out of my dress and into my ball gown.

Another kind of silence, I mused. The silence of love, where no words need to be spoken, because the eyes say enough.

My little sister had hardly finished tying up the laces of my dress when we heard a familiar screech from below:

‘Come! Quick, girls, come! He is here! Sir Philip has arrived, I see his coach!’

Ella’s knees nearly buckled. I whirled and caught her at her elbows just in time to steady her.

‘I can go down alone, if you want,’ I offered. ‘I can tell them that you can’t attend the ball because you are sick.’ You definitely look like it.

‘No.’ Ella shook her head sadly. ‘Aunt would never believe it, or she would insist that I go, regardless.’

That was probably true. Our aunt’s world order was very clear and structured: social duties came first, sick girls second. Or maybe twenty-second.

Lifting the skirt of her ball gown, Ella took a deep breath and opened the door. ‘Let’s go, Lilly. Let’s face this.’

She was so brave. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how one could be so brave and so timid at the same time. Why couldn’t she just wait until Wilkins proposed and then tell him, ‘Thanks, but no thanks!’?

Well, the day I understood Ella would be the day I achieved my doctoral degree in philosophy. Not ever.

Over our joined footsteps on the creaky wooden stairs, I could hear Sir Phillip’s voice from below. My back stiffened. This was the voice of the dread foe I would have to meet and defeat before the night was out.

At the moment, the dread foe was talking about a new variety of tulips he had recently discovered growing near his country home.

‘They are beautiful, the most beautiful flowers you have ever seen, but so delicate. I think I will have to rescue them before the winter comes.’

‘I see. How very… considerate of you,’ my aunt said, smiling one of her brightest and most fake smiles. Now, if they just could keep each other occupied for a few seconds longer, maybe Ella and I could sneak past unnoticed and get seats next to each other in the coach, with Ella in the corner. Then, at least, she would be save from tulips for the ride to the ball.

Catching her eye, I gestured to the door, and she nodded.

Slowly, we started towards the door, behind the backs of both Sir Philip and our aunt.

‘Winter is such a harsh season, don't you think?’ Wilkins sighed. ‘All the little flowers dead and buried under snow. And in the house, too, it produces such a cold atmosphere. You know, I have long been wondering whether there isn’t something I could do to counteract that, and I think I have found the solution.’ He sighed significantly. ‘I think it is time to make a permanent change in my home, if you understand what I mean.’

My aunt’s eyes flew wide open, practically glowing with greed. From one moment to the next, all her attention was on Wilkins. So was mine - and Ella's. We both had frozen in place and were staring at our terrible enemy.

‘A… significant change?’ My aunt managed, her eyes gleaming.

‘Oh yes, quite significant. I feel that I cannot go on as I have these past years. I need something that can warm my heart in the coldest of times. My own little sunshine.’

My aunt’s hands were clasped together in eagerness, and at his last words, she almost fainted. ‘Oh, I see, Sir Phillip. I understand perfectly.’

My eyes flicked to Ella. She was leaning against the doorframe, her face ashen. Apparently, she, too, understood perfectly.

‘And when will you be initiating this change?’ my aunt enquired.

‘As soon as possible,’ the accursed Wilkins said with a dreamy look in his eyes. ‘Why postpone something that can bring so much happiness to one’s life?’

‘True, very true.’

Ella was in motion again, then, hurrying towards the door. I didn’t know what she meant to do, run to the coach, or to Edmund, or to Ecuador, but she was too late. Just in that moment, Wilkins turned around and beheld her.

‘Ah! Miss Ella! I have been looking forward to seeing you.’

~~*~~*

It wasn’t long before Aunt Brank shewed us outside and into the coach. No matter how eager she might be for a little love scene between Ella and Sir Philip in the hallway, she was even more eager for Ella to get to the ball and be proposed to. I did my best to insert myself between the couple, using my hoop skirt to great effect, but there was only so much I could do. I could not keep Wilkins from sending my little sister glowing looks and flowery compliments, no matter how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

What the bloody hell am I going to do? If he really proposes to her… How can I stop him?

It was only just as the last of my sisters took her seat in the coach that I glimpsed the possible answer, out in the street. An answer in human form.

By George!

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