Page 8 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Ella heard the sincerity in his voice. Her cheeks flushed, she batted her eyes back to him.
“And if I must say, it’s terribly true, isn’t it?” Frederick had laughed, his eyes glittering.
Ella couldn’t believe it at the time: that someone other than herself was noting how frequent it was that Tatiana received everything she’d ever wanted; that she never had to work or demand anything at all. It seemed that the heavens parted for her; that people cast their affections towards her; that Tatiana had been born a treasured child, leaving those like Ella to be pushed aside, dealt with later.
“It’s not as though I don’t love her terribly…” Ella had murmured then, feeling momentarily sheepish, allowing Frederick to see her fully.
Frederick had made a soft sound in his throat. “You never have to apologise for being honest,” he’d told her. “I know both of you better than anyone. I know you’d do anything for your sister. In fact, I know that you’re honestly grateful that the world gives her so much. It’s what we want for our loved ones.”
Ella had nodded, feeling Frederick target her precise feelings on the subject.
“You’re excellent at reading people, aren’t you, Frederick?” she’d murmured.
“I dare say it’s inappropriate to spend your days reading books, studying, if you’re unwilling to also study the world around you,” Frederick had said.
In this way, Ella had assumed Frederick was on her “side” regarding Tatiana. She assumed he felt the same: that Tatiana got everything she’d ever wanted, which didn’t necessarily make her a bad person – not in the slightest! – but meant that one shouldn’t go all the way out of one’s way to assist her, as she would be given that assistance, regardless.
Ella’s little legs quivered beneath her, feeling heavy, fatigued. She hadn’t eaten much the previous day, and her stomach lurched at the thought of food. She wandered down the hall, recognising that she wouldn’t be able to toss her head into any sort of book that morning. Her thoughts fizzed and seemed unwilling to latch.
Ella meandered past Tatiana’s art studio, a little room in the corner of the mansion, where Tatiana spent several hours a week – mixing paint colours, drawing fine lines across canvases, and setting up little still life pieces with dried flowers and vases and apples. Throughout their youth, Ella had attempted to sit with Tatiana, to match her easy, tender paintbrush stroke. But the artistry hadn’t flown into Ella’s muscles, as it had with Tatiana. And, as Tatiana wasn’t shy, like Ella, she showed her art in ways Ella could never show her poetry. This led to countless honours, to acclaim throughout the kingdom. Tatiana was regarded as a real up-and-coming talent, while Ella was regarded as the sister who huddled in the corner, waiting for the storm to pass.
Ella blinked at the painting Tatiana had been working on the previous few weeks. She realised that whilst Tatiana had slipped yellows and browns and greens over the outline of the vase, she’d been dreaming about Frederick’s return.
Ella imagined herself in a full-on rage, lifting the painting from the easel and casting it out the window. She imagined herself screaming, declaring that Tatiana didn’t deserve Frederick – that Frederick’s mind was something she could never fully comprehend. A fire bubbled in her stomach.
But from the outside, Ella knew she just looked like a sombre almost-woman, her feet spread far apart, her hands in little fists at her waist. Outside the window, one of the older gardeners walked, hunched over. He lifted a sturdy hand and gave Ella a wave. He’d seen her nearly every single day of her life. Ella returned it, her heart aching. The world would never know the lurking chaos in her mind. And perhaps it was better that way: she could ensure everyone else felt all right.
Chapter 5
The engagement party was held on the following Saturday, only nine days after Frederick had asked Lord Chesterton for Tatiana’s hand. Ella was conscious of the passage of that time – each day dripping into the next, because, she realised, heartache made time stop and speed up, all at once. She yearned to draw a line in the sand, to halt everything to ensure that Tatiana could remain at the estate forever, and more importantly, never marry the love of Ella’s life.
Tatiana wasn’t conscious of Ella’s emotions throughout this time. Ella couldn’t blame her, of course. Their mother had grown strange and chaotic the moment she’d begun plans, blaring Tatiana’s name from all corners of the estate, demanding one question after another. When Tatiana wasn’t with Frederick, she was on-edge, planning napkin colours and refining dessert details and ensuring that all matters were taken care of before they hosted.
“You’re lucky you’re not getting married,” Tatiana had murmured to Ella once, late at night, during one of their only conversations since the engagement. “Mother is driving me absolutely wild. She continually tells me I’m making a mistake regarding one element of the party or the next. And this is only the engagement party, Ella! Imagine what she’ll be like when it comes time for the wedding.”
Ella considered this with compassion. She stripped her hair back with firm fingers. Her bangs still looked like little tufts of grass, spurting out from her forehead. Of course, she longed to tell Tatiana the truth – that in fact, she so yearned to marry. That she would give anything for their roles to be reversed. But this wouldn’t assist the matter in the slightest.
“I know. I shouldn’t complain,” Tatiana had sighed, not allowing Ella to answer. “This is all for me. All for Frederick and I. And all too soon I’ll be latched in a nursery somewhere, raising children, wishing I was still young and slim and preparing for my party.”
Ella couldn’t find an answer in time for this, either. She buzzed her lips, her stomach clenching with the sadness of thinking about Tatiana and Frederick’s children.
“Regardless, darling, how are you?” Tatiana chirped, her eyes glowing. “I can’t remember the last time we spent such time apart, can you? It’s absolutely disheartening, realising that the years of our girlhood are behind us.” She clucked her tongue, her eyes dancing down Ella’s red locks. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me touch your hair again, will you? It really does look better, darling. I imagine it’ll be quite all right for the wedding.”
Throughout dinner, Ella sat, almost sullen, three seats away from Tatiana, yet it could have been four thousand miles. The table was long, wide, and around it sat all of Frederick’s family – his two brothers and sister, his mother and father, his cousin, Peter, whom Ella recognised from various summers at the Braxton estate, along with Peter’s sister and brother, and several of Tatiana and Ella’s cousins, three aunts, and two uncles (one of the aunts a widow as of the previous winter).
Ordinarily, the Chestertons didn’t hold events in that particular dining hall, as it was far larger than their normal party. But on this day, on a glimmering day in May, it was entirely suitable. The sun shot through the mighty, two-storey windows, casting a glare across the various platters and dishes that filled the centre of the large table.
Tatiana and Frederick were seated at the head of the table, their shoulders a bit too close together; their eyes cast towards one another far more frequently than Ella would have liked. It seemed they were in on several private jokes, which they passed to one another when other members of the dinner party weighted the conversation.
Ella found herself sipping wine a bit faster than normal, yearning for the blurriness of that post-drunken reality. Perhaps her heart wouldn’t blurt with such sadness and anger if she just guzzled another drink. She watched the maid pour her another, and then another, each time flashing her eyes toward Ella as if to ask, “Are you sure?”
But unfortunately, the bread and the roasted duck slurped up a great deal of the alcohol, making Ella altogether aware of herself and the world around her. After her father proposed yet another toast to the happy couple, she leapt from her chair, placing a napkin over her lips and rushing towards the garden. Of course, such was her luck, that this caused several of the other members of the party to do the same – calling out to her, “Ella! What a marvellous idea. It’s such a lovely evening. Someone, bring the wine to the garden!”
This was how Ella found herself all-but locked against a tree in the rose garden, feeling the glowing late-afternoon sun across her cheeks and watching a large selection of rotund uncles and sharp-nosed aunts and rag-tag cousins celebrate a love they so yearned to “last forever.”
Musicians arranged themselves on the outskirts of the garden. Violin and cello music swelled through the air. Ella watched as Tatiana slipped her arm through Frederick’s, tossing her head back at another private joke. Frederick’s eyes met with Ella’s in this moment, flashing with humour.
Ella felt she was underwater, unable to breathe.
