Page 24 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Tatiana drew back, slipping her hand along Ella’s cheek. Ella’s stomach grew heavy with guilt. Nothing about Tatiana evoked any sort of ill will towards Ella. Was Ella truly operating with the only goal in mind to ruin Tatiana’s life?
“Like I said, it’s truly a wonder to see you falling in love like this.” Tatiana sighed. “Just listening to you speak of Peter Holloway in this manner, it brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps now that you have a possible suitor, we can return to the friendship we’ve had these many, many years. I know it’s been difficult for you, in the wake of Frederick’s return. He was one of your greater friends, wasn't he? Always together, reading and writing. Talking endlessly about history. I know that I’ve taken that from you, in a sense. I didn’t mean to. I just simply believe that my love for Frederick is so immense. The sort of thing I must cling to for the rest of my life.”
Ella couldn’t think of a possible response, nothing that felt strong enough to match what her sister had said. She inhaled slowly, waiting. Tatiana dropped a kiss on her cheek and then returned to the hallway, creaking the door closed between them. Ella gaped at it, still in just her slip. The droplets from the water basin curved down her neck.
How could she continue on this path of destruction, knowing that Frederick made her sister so endlessly happy? How could she possibly continue to tear them apart?
But she wasn’t, she reminded herself. She was simply ensuring that her sister wasn’t making an enormous, wretched mistake. She was showing Tatiana the light — that Frederick was a true stoic history-buff who belonged locked in a library, rather than out dancing to music with Tatiana. One day, she would grow endlessly bored with him — unless Ella operated accordingly.
The following afternoon, Ella perched in her bedroom, her quill dotting over and over again into ink. Her head ticked along from thought to thought, unwilling to ascribe itself to any one idea, any one plot. She knew she needed to reach out to Peter to propel their plan forward. But how?
Finally, she swept the ink of the quill over the page, drawing out his name. Lord Holloway. How beautiful it looked — with the enormous curls of the l’s and the grand H, there at the start. For a moment, her mind wedged the name against hers — Lady Ella Holloway. How gorgeous that sounded. Immediately, she shoved it away, turning her eyes back to the page. She had to keep going.
“Lord Holloway,
Although it seems our plot didn’t fall in line the previous evening, I dare say we have several more opportunities as the days wear on. I suggest that we orchestrate a plot for the upcoming garden party, held at the Braxton estate during the upcoming week. What say you? Have you still hope that we can complete our plan?
Signed, Lady Chesterton”
The letter was succinct. Vaguely flirty, to be sure, but succinct. Unfortunately, it very much showed there to be a sort of scheme brewing between the two of them. For this reason, Ella needed to craft a plan to ensure that no one else saw the letter — and that, if Peter showed interest in returning one of his own — no one spotted his. She imagined a letter from Peter arriving when the rest of her family received their mail, at breakfast. The horrendous chatter that would erupt as a result! She would turn bright red, be filled with endless anxiety. Her parents would latch onto it, using it as increased proof that Ella’s suitor would soon be Lord Holloway.
No, no. It simply wouldn’t do.
Ella slipped her letter into an envelope, grabbed her coin purse, and scurried down the steps, her eyes scanning for the maid — Tiffany — who ordinarily prepared and delivered the mail in the mornings. After several minutes of panicked searching, Ella found Tiffany at the pianoforte, slipping a rag over the keys and humming to herself. Tiffany was perhaps three years older than Ella, with sombre grey eyes and hollowed-out cheeks. The girls had spent almost every day of the previous ten years within the same household, yet had hardly spoken. Ella now chastised herself for this, realising how wretched she must seem.
“Tiffany,” Ella said now, her voice edged with anxiety. She hoped it sounded bright, friendly. She doubted it did.
Tiffany turned her head slowly, almost as though she had to crank it. She lifted the rag from the piano keys and gaped at Ella, her eyes filled with confusion.
“Yes?” Tiffany asked.
“I was hoping I could speak to you about something,” Ella said, swallowing. Her mouth felt immensely dry.
“I suppose that’s what we’re currently doing,” Tiffany returned.
Ella shifted her weight. She blinked down at Tiffany, then dropped herself alongside her upon the pianoforte bench. She needed to operate with complete secrecy. Tiffany shifted a bit away from her, seeming unable to trust her. Ella didn’t blame her.
“I need to ask you a favour, Tiffany,” Ella whispered. She placed her fingers atop the keys, moving them to and fro.
“You can’t play, can you?” Tiffany asked, sounding rueful.
“Absolutely not,” Ella returned. “I never had my sister’s skills, and never imagined I would need them. But right now, I dare say I wish I had them.”
“Because of the young man you hope to have as your suitor,” Tiffany said.
“No!” Ella said, her voice cracking. “Absolutely not. We’re simply friends. Acquaintances, really.” She paused, sensing that Tiffany didn’t believe her for a moment. She’d already cultivated her own narrative. “Regardless, this does have something to do with him. And I need to ensure that you uphold strict secrecy about this conversation.”
At this, Ella dropped her purse of coins upon the keys. They clanked. Tiffany turned her attention towards them. She inhaled sharply. Ella knew that this sort of money wasn’t anything Tiffany was accustomed to having.
“I can keep this up, if you’re willing to ensure that any correspondence from Lord Holloway to me is kept until after breakfast,” she continued. “It is incredibly important that no one knows that we’re writing to one another. Do you understand?”
Tiffany reached for the purse and pulled it down, then tucked it into her pocket. It was as though the purse had never existed. Ella allowed her mouth to curve into a little smile. “I suppose that means you understand?”
Tiffany nodded. “You’ve made yourself incredibly clear, Lady Chesterton.”
“Thank you,” Ella returned. She reached into her pocket and drew out the first letter to Lord Holloway, placing it in precisely the same location as the purse had been. “With that in mind, I need this to be taken to Lord Holloway’s immediately.”
Tiffany brought the letter to her chest. She turned her chin to her chest, seemingly nodding. Ella swept her skirts to the side, then rose up from the bench, recognising that the interaction was complete. She beamed at Tiffany, feeling entirely pleased with herself.
