CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME ANTHONY was nudged awake by the physician, his father had passed on. He did not quite understand all the words the doctor said, but the distraught features of his mother told him everything he needed to know. Standing somewhat stiffly, he walked up to her and held his arms out wide. She clutched him, and he let her weep and mumble incoherent mutterings into his shoulder. She had been up all night. It was nearly ten, and she had fought and prayed valiantly for her husband to stay with them, but he did not.
He had passed sometime within the last few minutes. She was not in the room when he went. She left to fetch a shawl for him—just walked into his dressing room for a few seconds. When she returned, he was gone.
And she was gone as well.
The strong, courageous mother he knew was now a shattered shell of who she once was. Both his parents—both of the rocks he could lean upon—were gone now. It was he; he was the rock.
He was the rock the kingdom would turn to for help.
It was nearly three before he was finally able to tuck his mother into bed and make his way into the bright sunshine to Ella.
How he needed her at this moment.
How he needed any distraction at all.
They had decided not to announce his father’s death for another few more hours at least to give the queen time to regain some composure and her strength. Hopefully it would be enough to face the masses again.
He rode his horse swiftly to the orchard, allowing the breeze and gloriousness of the day to pacify his loss. Sliding down from the animal, he looped its reins upon the closest branch and looked for the girl who was not there.
Heaving a disappointed sigh, he sat down upon the ground and rested his back against the tree. No doubt she had already waited for him as long as she dared and then headed back in the house. He thought about coming up to the door, but decided it was not worth the complications that might arise from such actions. He could not risk being seen by her family.
Instead, he folded his arms and sighed again—surprised at how truly saddened he was that she was not there. He needed a distraction to take his mind off his aching heart. Something to allow hope back in—something he could do himself to repair… He needed something. Yet, he did not know what.
“Forgive me for coming so late.”
Anthony turned around and smiled as Ella approached.
“I am glad you did not give up on me and head home,” she said as she sat next to him.
“Hello.” He was about to explain that he had barely arrived himself when his gaze traced her worn features. Her eyes were swollen, perhaps as much as his.
“Hello.” She grinned lopsidedly.
He tenderly brought his hand up to brush away the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun. “What is wrong, Ella?”
She turned her head and brushed her lips against his palm, kissing it. “Why would you say something is wrong?”
He let out a short chuckle. “Are we to play this game, then?”
Her gaze met his. “John! What has happened? You look quite fatigued.”
Closing his eyes, he slid his hand around her head to cup her neck. When he opened his eyes, he replied, “I am fatigued. I feel as though I have lived several lifetimes the past twelve hours.”
“What happened?”
Kissing her brow, he said, “You first.”
She shook her head. “I cannot tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I cannot.” She pulled back. “What ails you?”
“Ella, if someone caused those tears, I would kindly like to know who did so that I may throttle them.”
“Which is precisely why I will not tell you.”
He dropped his hand. “Are you jesting? Someone did something to you so horrid that I would throttle them if I knew what it was?”
Her trusting eyes met his. She took a couple of deep breaths, but still did not speak.
“Ella? What is it?”
She turned her head away.
His heart lurched. “Why are you ashamed? Do not turn from me now. Please, whatever it is, let us work it out together.” He grasped her hands. “Please, I need this—I very much need this right now.”
He watched as her gaze darted to their clasped hands and then to his eyes. “Will you promise me something?” she asked.
“Anything.”
“Promise that no matter what I tell you, you will remain impassive and you will not harm those involved.”
My word! What had the girl suffered? “I promise I will do everything in my power not to react badly to whatever it is you reveal.”
Ella grinned. “That is not good enough.”
“What? ‘Tis the best I can do—promise to control myself. But really, it depends on what you say—what secret you reveal.”
“Jonathan!”
“Eleanoria!”
“You must promise.”
“You would have me lie, then? If that is what it takes, then so be it. I will lie to you, though I would much rather not.”
She sighed and, releasing one hand, turned slightly and rested her head upon his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, she began to tell him.
“When my father died, he apparently left everything in his last will and testament to me—everything—except I was not told. In fact, I was told just the opposite.”
She paused, and John wrapped his arm around her and nudged her in closer.
Her voice cracked as she continued, “I have been told, been reminded nearly every day since his death, that I own nothing in that house. Nothing. Not even my mother’s…” She trailed off as the emotions became too much for her.
John’s hand clenched next to her side—the only outward showing of rage he would allow himself. “Continue,” he whispered. “Tell me what else has happened.”
“They took all my mother’s possessions, all the items she had received from her dowry and ancestors that were meant for me, and divided it amongst themselves. Earlier this week, I found my grandmother’s pearls with Jillian. My clothing, my bedroom, everything—they took it all. I was forced to live up in the attics, earning my keep for them so I would not become a burden. That is why they got rid of Sunshine.” Her shoulders trembled as she valiantly tried to get the rest out. “They—they did not want me to believe I was better than them, so they took her from me. They have repeatedly told me the most horrible truths about myself. Things I would never want to say out loud.”
Her voice barely recognizable through her sobs, she continued, “It was all done so I would believe the lie, so I would believe my father did not remember me in his will, so I would not question any of it. I would forever subject myself to their abuse and cruelties.”
His mind raced, imaging what they had said and how the fiends treated her. It was a wonder she was so warm and gracious after the treatment she had received. Though, there was one thing that puzzled him. “How did you discover the truth?”
She shook her head. “I never would have known. I would never have thought to question any of it. It was Lacey, Miss Dashlund, who revealed the whole of it last night.”
“Miss Dashlund? The Miss Dashlund, the girl who ruined the queen’s garden party?”
He could feel her smile, though he could not see it. “The very same.”
“And how did she come to be your ally?”
“I do not know. A change has overcome her, this past year at least, and recently she has become even more pleasant with me. I dare say we are almost friends, if not sisters.” She snorted. “I believe it may have something to do with her clumsiness and becoming more and more my stepmother’s trial as each event becomes worse”
John could not imagine such a silly girl being Ella’s friend and confidante, but if Lacey were truly an ally, then mayhap he would have to open up the castle to her too… His thoughts halted. Right then and there, they halted. What was he thinking?
He was thinking of Ella being with him always.
He simply could not become king without his Ella by his side. Her wisdom, her loyalty, her happiness, her gravity, her humility—here was the answer he had been searching for, waiting for. His aching heart burst with warmth. He loved her.