Just Ella

by Annette K. Larsen

  At this moment though, I felt an intense need to be apart from the world. Walking through the gardens, I kept my eyes straight ahead, then made my way through the maze, to the room with the hidden door. Pulling the ivy aside, I froze, remembering the warning Gavin had issued so long ago about never going by myself. I didn’t care. He had lost the right to sway my decision when he had chosen someone else. I pushed the door open, using all my strength because of its lack of use. Once in the quiet of the trees, some of my guard fell and I became aware of the wetness on my face, but I ignored it, unwilling to acknowledge my pain here in the open.

  Two minutes later found me crouched in the shallow water at the rear of the cave behind the falls, my hands and forehead pressed against the back wall as I gave free reign to my emotions. With the constant dripping from the ceiling and my initial trip through the cascade of water, my tears mingled freely with the tears of this lonely space. It felt as though the roaring silence wept with me as my sobs were drowned out by the constant howl.

  I admitted there, in that tiny part of the world belonging to me alone, that my time spent away from Gavin had in no way lessened my attachment to him. I had always thought of him as my Gavin, the one that would always be a part of me. Now it seemed that even that small measure of comfort had been stripped from me, leaving me torn and in more pain than I thought possible.

  When my tears finally stopped, I sat leaning against that rock wall and tried to let my mind drift into nothingness, to hear only the rushing water and nothing else. I tried not to hear Gavin’s voice or see his face. I tried not to remember that when I had first seen him the day before, my first impulse had been to kiss him. And I tried not to wish I had done exactly that.

  I also tried—desperately tried, and failed—not to think of the time he had kissed me. The first time so very long ago in the middle of the village square, and then later that same night, on the side of a street. I tried not to remember how right it had felt to have his arms around me, how safe and loved I had felt.

  Darkness was falling, but still I remained half submerged in water with my back against the rough rocks. Yesterday, Gavin had been lost to me physically; tonight I knew he was lost to me in every way except the physical. He was here, and yet he was farther away than he had ever been before.

  The light was starting to fade when I finally picked up my exhausted, shivering body and climbed back onto dry land. I picked my way through the woods in a daze, dragging my feet and my shawl as I went.

  ***

  One week after Gavin’s return, I saw her—the woman that would be his bride, though she seemed to be more girl than woman. I saw her come from the outer building that housed the laundry. She must have been a laundress, one of many who served me without my knowing. Truth be told, I had been hiding behind a hedge, watching Gavin work. Yes, I was spying. Though I knew the futility of it, I couldn’t squelch my need to be near him somehow. And so I found myself skulking behind a hedge when it happened.

  I noticed her approach before Gavin did. She separated herself from several other women and fairly skipped toward the place where Gavin worked. She was radiant. No wonder he had chosen her. He was likely her first love, her only love. She would make him her entire world. When she reached Gavin, he sweetly took her hand and kissed her cheek in greeting. She in turn smiled, blushed, and glanced away. I retreated, unwilling to torment myself any longer, especially after I realized that though his gestures were genuinely sweet, they were not passionate. He liked her and may have even adored her, and though I wondered more than once if I were kidding myself, I couldn’t help but draw the conclusion that he was not in love with her.

  Whether or not that was true didn’t matter. He had chosen to marry her, and therefore he could not be mine.

  I would have thought before now that any contact with him would have been better than wondering what had become of him. How horribly wrong I was. The last year and a half had been awful, but I had at least had the ability to go numb. The ache of being without him had smoldered into something manageable, something residing on the fuzzy outskirts of my consciousness. I had continued living my life, finding peace in the memories of being with him. At least before, while I was missing him, I could assume he was missing me.

  But now—now he was here, every day. I knew he was close enough at any given moment that if I wanted to seek him out, I could. And yet I did not. I could not. I would not. Because now—now she was here.

  The day I first saw her was also the day Jeshua came for another visit. I had been walking the corridors, the sound of my feet hitting the stones making me feel alone. Passing through a corridor overlooking the great hall, I saw Jeshua arrive and suddenly felt far less brave.

  If only Jeshua actually cared for me. If his face broke into a genuine smile of pleasure when he saw me, his courting me might have been bearable, even pleasant. Instead he would greet me with a faint and very smug smile, his eyes roaming over me as though he were very satisfied.

  Everyone else who saw this satisfaction called it admiration, or appreciation of my beauty, or even doting affection. Doting affection—nothing could have been further from the truth. You cannot have affection for someone you know nothing about.

  Perhaps he did appreciate my beauty. I was often told that I was a rare beauty, but it never really meant much to me. I looked much like the rest of my sisters.

  And so, subjected to Jeshua’s company once again, I forced myself to smile politely and act as though his every glance did not disgust me. It was interesting to watch my parents during these times. My father would glance my way once in a while with satisfaction and give Jeshua a nod of encouragement. My mother tended to go out of her way not to look in my direction and wore a continual expression of composed indifference. While I didn’t appreciate either sentiment, at least my mother had the sense not to openly approve and especially encourage this ritual of…whatever this was.

  After dinner I was forced to endure a walk with Jeshua. We walked south, away from the lowly village houses and toward the rolling foothills instead. We walked as he rambled and I let my mind wander.

  “Ariella?” I was pulled abruptly from my thoughts when Jeshua halted our stroll and said my name. Apparently he had caught me not paying attention.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I tried to focus.

  He turned to face me and took my hands in his. I resisted the urge to yank them away. “You are quite distracted tonight. Whatever could be on your mind?”

  I was taken aback. Jeshua never asked me questions about myself. I wondered whether or not I should answer truthfully. Perhaps a partial truth would be best. “I was just thinking about an old friend.”

  “Well, aren’t you sweet. Worrying over someone until you’re driven to distraction.” He reached up and brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers. I tried not to flinch away from his cold touch. Bad enough that he held my hands captive, but did he have to touch my face? He had never been this bold, and it worried me. Had the time come? Was he going to propose soon? Was he here to speak with my father about making it official? The thought made me shudder.

  “Are you chilled?” Jeshua asked, running his hand over my arm. I tried to step back, but he held me in place.

  “A little,” I lied, my voice tight. I hoped he would take my cue and return me to the palace. I had only a delicate shawl with me, having left my cloak behind in the hopes of keeping the evening stroll as short as possible.

  “Well then, perhaps we should find a way to warm you up and help you forget your worries at the same time.” He said this in what I supposed was meant to be an alluring voice as he moved deliberately closer to me.

  Oh, no.

  We were standing next to a low stone wall on the perimeter of a pasture. I tried to step back, away from Jeshua, but my foot met with the wall and I lost my footing. I exaggerated my stumble, saying, “Oh!” as I pulled my hands free, trying to create some distance between us. The idea backfired.

  Jes
hua’s arms encircled me in an embrace far closer than circumstances required. “Don’t worry, I have you.” He smiled to himself, and I didn’t bother to hide my horror. This could not be happening. “Don’t look so frightened, Angel,” he reassured me, no doubt misinterpreting my horror as nervousness or even anticipation. He bent his head toward me and I turned my face away. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “You’re in very capable hands.”

  There was barely a moment to be disgusted by his implication before I felt his lips just below my ear and suddenly felt dirty. “Now,” he whispered, placing a dry, rough kiss on my cheek, “shall we endeavor to chase all your worries away?”

  I’d never been so revolted in my life. It wasn’t just that I loathed him in the first place. It was the way he pulled my body into his, the way he turned the moment into something very intimate without stopping to consider the way I reacted.

  In fact, I didn’t know how to react. He had moved so quickly that I froze, my muscles locked up against his advances, until I felt his disgusting kisses moving closer to my mouth.

  I pushed against his chest, leaning away. “Jeshua, don’t…. This is…” But before I could get any further protests past my lips, he sealed them off with his own.

  I pushed him away as quickly as I could. “This is not proper, sir,” I told him as I wrenched myself away, stumbling out of his hold. “I have to return home.” I continued up the lane, unable to restrain myself to a simple walk—I ran flat out, my shawl flailing in the breeze. I didn’t care what he thought; my repulsion drove my feet forward until I was shut safely in my room. I went to my wash basin and scrubbed at my lips and my neck, determined to rid myself of the creeping, crawling sensation plaguing my skin. I needed to somehow shake loose the feeling of his hands on mine. I had to do something, to act.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Saying No

  I WENT TO my closet and yanked out the common dress and shoes I had purchased from the village so long ago. I threw my cloak around my shoulders, stuffing my common garb into its folds and out of sight, then made my way out onto the grounds and into the room with the hidden door. I changed from my gown to the homespun dress. I took the jeweled ribbons from my hair, tying it into a disheveled knot before covering my head with a kerchief. I left my cloak in the room with my dress and tied a knit shawl around my waist in case it became chillier. I had discovered this was the reason common women so often looked as though they had double-layered skirts. Lastly I replaced my slippers with what Gavin had once referred to as “proper clomping shoes” and heaved the door open.

  So it was with only the aid of the dimming light and a kerchief covering my head that I snuck away from my home. I could have easily recruited Gretchen to come with me, but she didn’t know about the door and I didn’t want to involve her, especially when I was so thoroughly defying my father.

  I just wanted to be by myself, to be away from the palace. I planned to simply walk the cobbled street, to clear my head of thoughts of Jeshua and fill it instead with sights of simplicity and camaraderie.

  But as I walked down alleys and lanes, I discovered that for the most part they were deserted. Or if there were people left in them, they were headed for the square. It didn’t take me long to deduce that a dance was taking place. I hesitated. Going to a dance would likely throw me into Gavin’s path. I considered giving up my plan and returning home, but just the thought of being inside those stone walls made my chest constrict.

  I wouldn’t participate in the festivities, only watch. And if I did see Gavin? Well, it was an occurrence I would need to get used to.

  Approaching the square, I was overwhelmed once again by the sense of life here. The festivities were already well underway. The dance being performed as I entered the square had all the women circled around the outside, doing steps and twirls, using their skirts to add to their movements. The men were in the middle doing rhythmic stomping punctuated by clapping. I could have easily slipped in with the circle of women, but I stopped in the shadow of a building instead. There were many older villagers sitting around the edges of the square, talking with one another and watching the dancers. Couples walked hand in hand and women chattered together.

  I smiled, reveling in the noise and chaos, enjoying the commotion. As the song ended, some people came away from the dance while others joined in. Just ahead of me, a gentleman not much older than myself sat on a bench. He caught my eye, smiling politely, and I did the same. But then he did a double take. “Ella?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

  More than a little surprised to hear him call me by my nickname, I looked closer and realized I recognized him. “Eli?” It was Gretchen’s brother who had danced with me the very first time I had come to one of these gatherings.

  He stood up, a grin splitting his face. “How are you, Miss Ella? We haven’t seen you in ages; I thought you had gone for good. Are you here with your aunt again? I hope she is well.”

  “Yes,” I blundered, relieved he had reminded me of the story of a sick aunt that I had told to explain my haphazard appearances at these events. “Yes, my aunt is very well. I am simply visiting this time.”

  “Well then, I must tell my sister you are here; I know she became quite fond of you when you were here last.”

  “I was very fond of her as well,” was the best thing I could think to say. Truth be told, I was not prepared for someone to recognize me. It had been a year and a half, for heaven’s sake! But I suppose if anyone would recognize me, it would be Eli. Being Gretchen’s brother, he had been a part of our little group. My mind sought frantically for something to say that wouldn’t make me sound guilty. “And how are you, Eli? Are you well? Is Gretchen well?”

  “We are both doing very well, thank you. Remind me where you hail from?”

  “I…” Fortunately I was spared the need for a response by the appearance of a young lady with a scarf in her hand.

  “Eli, you must come dance with me,” she said as she latched onto his arm.

  He kissed her forehead in greeting. “I will, darling, but first you must meet Ella,” he said, gesturing to me.

  She extended her hand. “How do you do?”

  “Quite well, thank you.”

  “Ella is an old friend of Gretchen’s who has come back to visit. And Ella, this is my wife, Layla.” He made the introduction and slipped an arm around Layla’s waist.

  “You’re married. How wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you very much,” he said then his eyes widened as if he had just remembered something. “You know who else is getting married?”

  I widened my eyes in interest and he went on. “You knew Gavin, didn’t you?”

  My chest went tight and my eyes widened even farther.

  “In fact,” continued Eli, “I’m sure he would like to say hello; I know he is here somewhere.”

  We both started scanning the crowd and Eli pointed into the sea of swirling bodies as he said, “Right there.”

  I followed his pointing finger and spotted not Gavin, but his betrothed. She circled with a group of women, but then broke away as a gentlemen’s hand took hold of the scarf she held. My eyes went from the scarf, to the hand, then the arm, shoulder, and finally rested on his face—Gavin’s face. He had looped the scarf over his wrist as she held both ends of it, and used it to guide her into a twirl. I stood mesmerized. I had seen many times how these scarves were used, but watching Gavin, it was much clearer just how personal the dance became with that scarf. It made its way around necks, over arms, through fingers…connecting them so physically. It made me ill—seeing them together in that way.

  “That’s his fiancée he’s dancing with now.”

  I nodded mutely at Eli’s words, trying to keep my face neutral.

  “We were happy to see those two make a match. Gavin has had a rough time this past year.”

  I cleared the emotion out of my throat. “He has?”

  “Never did figure out why he was let go from his position at t
he palace. But he hasn’t been the same since.”

  I swallowed. Neither of us had been the same. “When did they meet?”

  Layla answered this time. “Oh, they’ve known each other for years. I’m surprised it took this long for his parents to arrange it.” She turned to Eli, pulling on his hand. “Come on, the next dance will start soon.”

  Eli smiled, allowing himself to be pulled away. “It was good seeing you again. I’ll send Gavin over to say hello.”

  They joined the throng of dancing and I stood frozen for several seconds before forcing myself to move. I could not stay there, waiting for Eli to deliver his message to Gavin. Suddenly the open square and noisy chaos were oppressive and overwhelming. I fought my way through the crowd, gaining access to the open street and the shadows of night before looking behind me.

  Gavin was standing in the spot I had occupied only a moment before, turning left and right, looking panicked. I don’t know why I didn’t go right then, but something held me still. I trusted the shadows to veil my presence and saw the moment that Gavin peered toward me, toward the street that took the most direct route to the palace and started walking toward it.

  The shadows would not hide me once he entered the street and so I hurried away until I reached the road to the palace.

  I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting Gavin to catch up with me at any moment, but he wasn’t there. I allowed myself the time to untie the shawl from over my skirt and wrap it around my shoulders. Though the breeze was not strong, nor very cold, I felt the prick of it against my skin as if it were shards of ice. I walked—resolute and numb—toward my home, my head bowed in grief, my heart anxious that Gavin might still catch up with me.

  Looking behind me again, I bumped into a man coming the opposite way. An apology was on my lips, but he grabbed my arm roughly.

  “Have a little respect, wench.”

  The stale stench of wine wafted over me and air became lodged in my throat.