Page 7 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
“My father was a brilliant man!” her father cried. “And you loved him a great deal. Or wasn’t it you who sobbed throughout his entire funeral, upholding him as one of the greatest thinkers you’d met in your life?”
“A thinker, yes! But he was quite tight with his pocketbook, now, wasn’t he?” her mother scolded.
“So what is it, then? The full table of hors d’ouevres? The French chef? It’s really quite ridiculous, the sorts of things you’ve demanded her.”
“I’ve not demanded them. I’ve simply considered Tatiana’s needs and made up a few suggestions.” Her mother sighed.
Admittedly, her mother had always been in-tune with the finer things. Her eyes glowed continually upon their visits to the grand Braxton estate. And when she’d spoken of her link to their father, Lord Marvin Chesterton, she seemed to verbalise regret. For it seemed that she’d made a mistake, in her own eyes, regarding her affection for a man who hadn’t a high status in Society. “Yes, a Lord,” her mother had said once. “But by the very skin of his teeth.”
It was comments like this that had made Ella believe that her parents had never truly been in love – or, if they had, it had been one that had dissipated, leaving her mother with terrible, aching internal questions about the purpose of her life.
Ella had always vowed never to have such questions, to always marry with a purpose that had, at its core, true, aching love. She’d always believed that to exist between her and Frederick. She bounced back from the room, drawing her arms across the smooth white wall and giving a heavy sigh.
Again, she was cast into a memory.
She’d been perhaps fifteen, maybe sixteen years old at the time, which meant that Frederick was eighteen. Thusly, any time he spent with her felt very purposeful, given that he was meant to be with women his own age, women yearning to marry him; women who’d joined Society and glanced sidelong at him with anticipation.
It had been a family picnic. A sunny day. One of those seared into Ella’s mind, making her ache for times she could never truly return to. Times of her girlhood. Times she hadn’t known to appreciate, in the midst of them.
Throughout the memory, Ella wasn’t entirely certain where Tatiana was located. She remembered being tucked to the side of the clearing with Frederick, while a few other children and parents played croquet across the gleaming grass.
“You have to read me some of your poetry,” Frederick had demanded, smashing his fist atop his palm. “I declare, Ella, if you keep it to yourself, then are you really a poet? You have to allow the world to see you.”
Ella had blushed at this, turning inward. She leafed through her poetry book, the one she’d begun the previous summer, making sure to flip beyond the ones that discussed her love for Frederick. Those weren’t appropriate, just now. Perhaps one day.
“All right. I have one,” she’d murmured, fluttering her eyelashes towards him. “If you really wish to hear it, I will um. I will. Um.”
Frederick chuckled. “Already doing quite well, I see.”
Ella felt that her cheeks were surely as bright as apples. She pressed her lips together, waiting for Frederick’s laughter to dissipate. “Are you finished?” she finally asked, her voice a bit sharper than normal.
Frederick understood, then: this was far more serious than he was giving it credit for. He perked up in his chair, “Yes, ma’am.”
Ella cleared her throat and turned her eyes to the page, choosing a particularly emotional poem for her, at the time.
“A stunning portrait, yet come to life –
With swirling black curls and flashing green
Wild eyes.
She’s the envy of the court, of every single ball,
Despite her youth.
And the world, she opens her palms to her,
Lends her whatever it is she needs.
She laughs in response to it –
What a game the world is,
For those of them who receive.”
Ella had allowed the silence to fill her ears. She blinked several times, trying to will herself to look at Frederick. He still hadn’t said anything, causing Ella to second guess sharing with him. She pressed her book back together, hunting for what to say. Anything that might cast her back into her solitude, allow Frederick to return to whatever life he lived without her.
But after a long pause, Frederick murmured, “That was truly something to hear, Ella.”
