“I could not tell you,” replied David and it was all Miles could do not to pummel the bald man’s shiny head. Hubert raised his hand and pressed it at his brother’s chest, gently compelling him to remain silent.
“What makes you think that Leopold will act differently than his father or that he will undo anything that Thurlow has done?” Hubert inquired.
“Because Leopold is not like his father,” replied Miles eagerly. “He is stubborn and will not allow anyone, least of all Captain Thurlow, to bully him into anything. He is anxious to prove himself and his individuality.”
“So he is stubborn and arrogant,” declaimed David.
“He is also honorable,” asserted Miles. “I have seen it with my own eyes. My friends, bide your time. Give me a chance to meet with Leopold and explain to him the truth of Thurlow’s insidiousness.”
“What if you do explain it and nothing changes?” asked David. Miles could not answer truthfully so he did not answer at all. He’d been wrong about people before (King William, Thurlow.) How could he be so sure he was not mistaken about Leopold?
“So be it,” said Hubert, after whispering something in his brother’s ear. “We will, like you, put our faith in this young prince. But heed my words, Gamely, that if something happens whereupon Leopold either carries out Thurlow’s insane agenda or somehow does not take William’s place on the throne and usurp Thurlow’s ridiculous scope of authority, then we will have no choice but to act preemptively against Gwent. It does not give us pleasure to say this to you Sergeant Gamely. But rumors of Thurlow’s ruthlessness have reached our ears as well. He is a dangerous man; we will not wait for him to strike first.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
From the moment Ella took her first step out of the coach into the brisk, cold air, she felt her nerves begin to tingle with anticipation. She had never been so close to the castle of Gwent in her life. There were no words Ella could formulate to describe its majesty. How could such enchantment be engineered by mortal imagination? As Gabriel took her hand and escorted her down the footpath toward the castle moat, below a regal barbican, Ella reeled with images and sensations of this radiant new world. First with her mother’s dress and now the glitz and pomp of majesty, her entire moral code was becoming unhinged. She was finally beginning to understand that the sin of worldliness might be one that God forgave liberally, he himself mindful that it was to the mortal simply a conquest for heaven on earth. No matter how keenly Ella peered into the eastern and western flanks of the landscape, she could not see where the castle fortress ended and the mountainous backdrop began. There were levels upon levels of stone parapets and towers reaching skyward from every possible corner. Instead of being engineered in a tapering design that ascended upward until it steepled symmetrically in the center, it seemed to be built forward with each new plane breaching away from the hills and bluffs and toward the spellbound eye like a mirage.
It took several minutes for the couple, the Duke of Ebersol and his niece, to climb the immense stone staircase to the main balcony, which must have measured over one hundred meters from one side to the other. Already, there were more bodies on the balcony than Ella could count and she had not even entered the ballroom.
Gabriel slowed his step as they closed the gap between Ella’s magnificent new world of possibility and sublimity and the entire realm that existed outside of it: his world. It was the same world in which the man who pretended to be noble had been born and raised, where he’d learned to work for his very survival and where he’d sacrificed his youth, and his only family, to the expectations of those that knew nothing of him and cared even less. Gabriel felt derision seep into his spirit. How could what he’d gone through be called sacrifice when it was at the whims of another—of someone who didn’t even know he existed? Gabriel looked upon the reality that Ella found so very entrancing and was blitzed with the knowledge that his sacrifice had been for naught, because it was never his own. Not until Ella entered his life had he finally learned what it meant to have something so extraordinary that to give it up was tantamount to death.
Ella strolled down the hallway and into the massive, breathtaking ballroom. Gabriel observed the bounce in her step and he grinned, though it pained him to do so. Once inside the cavernous entity of the golden lined ballroom, hundreds of men and women dotted the panorama. And at the apex of everything golden, everything breathtaking, was Prince Leopold. He stood tall and proud upon a slightly elevated platform, one arm to his side and the other bent sharply at the elbow and resting against his waist. His attire was that of soldier and a prince: white pants that tapered only slightly at the ankle, a deep burgundy jacket that boasted golden buttons up the front and, as it opened right below his neck, a perfectly tied cravat.
Bastard, thought Gabriel furiously.
This is where I belong.
Isolda inhaled the atmosphere of the ballroom and felt it tease her lungs like a scrumptious meal that roasted in the fire, tantalizing the taste buds. She knew, as much as she had ever known anything, that she was standing in her future home. The future home of her daughter, that was.
Aislinn was, to Isolda’s chagrin, rather distant toward her mother that evening. Even though she anticipated the prince’s attention, she could not keep herself from reviewing the scene that had gone down only an hour before at their home. Why had Bethany said those things about their mother? If she were leaving, where would she go? Would she stay with Ella?
Aislinn grew cross. Why did everyone presume that she and her twin sister were cantankerous with one another because they did not like each other? Aislinn had spent the first years of her life adoring her ‘baby’ sister; they were best friends. But Isabella and Ella came around and suddenly one sister was not enough for Bethany. Thus the drifting away began, and Aislinn always hated Ella for it. Isolda believed herself to be the steward of all things that pertained to Ella’s deviousness but she was mistaken. Aislinn had learned from her own experiences that her cousin was the representation of all things contrary to Aislinn’s happiness.
Aislinn loved her twin sister. Why had she never told her as much?
“He is looking at you!” Isolda exclaimed, startling her distracted daughter. Aislinn looked over toward the prince and, sure enough, he was watching her fixedly. How could he distinguish anything in this sea of taffeta and silk, and of pretension and pride? Most likely it was due to her obscenely bright dress. Even in its illustriousness, it was quite a lovely ensemble that Bethany had pieced together, what with the tiara and the slippers so transparent, they might have well been made of glass.
She would have looked lovelier in this than I, Aislinn reflected.
“It will not be long before he makes his way to you,” Isolda stated, staring at the prince like a prowling predator. “It will take some time for him to decide who he wants to spend his time with. Just stay in plain view. Don’t lose sight of the prince or the queen. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mother,” Aislinn replied, her dream of meeting the prince, falling in love, and making the castle her first home that truly belonged to her and not her mother, the only comfort she could derive for that evening thus far. She shook off her gloominess and attempted to re-focus her attention toward her goal. But it was short lived. Ella had entered the ballroom, Peter by her side, and Aislinn cursed her mother for not permitting her to wear pink. Undoubtedly, pink would be the color of the evening.
They had been at the gala for over an hour. Countless people had taken notice of Ella, but the prince had not moved from his pedestal. Gabriel wasn’t overly worried; he was annoyed.
Ella is the most stunning woman here without equal! How can you not see what is right in front of you, Your Highness?!
“You look as though you might burn a hole through the wall with your eyes,” said the creeping, sinister voice behind Gabriel. He turned, exhaled deeply, and watched as Sergeant Halsty took position only centimeters from Gabriel’s boots. Halsty was considerably shorter than Peter, the Duke of
Ebersol, but he was no less large in presence. Gabriel knew who James Halsty was; he knew everything about Thurlow’s number-two man.
“Sergeant Halsty,” Gabriel said in ice-cold formality. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I am simply acting on behalf of my commander, Captain Thurlow,” Halsty replied, “to see to it that you are, how do I say this, living up to the stipulations of your…contract.”
“That was certainly a mouthful, Sergeant. Are you certain you did not injure yourself?”
Halsty chortled, unencumbered. “We can’t all be so learned as the aristocrats of this land,” he said, inconspicuously. “Some of us are more talented with our hands than we are with the spoken word.”
“Some of us aren’t talented at all,” Gabriel declared blankly.
“Have I done something to offend you, sir?”
“Offend is so contentious a word. Let’s just say you, and your friends, do things that puzzle me.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Is there something I can clear up for you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Why are you here?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you standing here speaking to me? You expect me to believe that Captain Thurlow, the unchallenged despot of Gwent’s seedy underbelly, cares to follow up on threats he gave to a man whose opinion and blessing mean nothing to him? You must be joking. Thurlow wants Ella. He only asked my blessing in their ‘courtship’ to make himself appear more appealing to her. When he learned that I would not speak on behalf of my niece, his ego was bruised and he tried to save face by threatening to reveal my less-than-stellar reputation. There was no contract; there were no stipulations.”
Halsty was still, his eyes scathing Gabriel as only eyes could. For several seconds, neither man uttered a sound.
“You know, you speak quite liberally for a nobleman,” Halsty said, amused. “I’m impressed. But have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?”
Gabriel laughed out loud, even garnering the attention of those people closest in proximity. “I don’t forget anything, Sergeant,” he declared.
“Of course you don’t,” Halsty retorted.
“Do you intend on answering my question?”
“Remind me again what that question was; my memory is apparently not as good as yours.”
“What are you doing here?” Gabriel repeated.
Halsty did not reply. He simple grinned and Gabriel had his answer.
A distraction.
Gabriel resisted the impulse to take Halsty’s jacket collars in his fists, but, as getting arrested would make the climax of his well devised plan quite difficult, he opted only to step toward the sniveling dwarf, so their toes were touching, and glare into Halsty’s beady eyes.
“Where is Thurlow?” Gabriel asked, rigidly. Once again, Halsty did not respond. Gabriel felt his heartbeat pulsate and without thinking, he began scaling the crowd for the only person that Thurlow might be so compelled to meet with in private that he would send a decoy to keep her only living guardian distracted. Gabriel took Halsty’s jacket in his fists, though he struggled to do it as discreetly as possible. His demand of Halsty was spoken with the most menacing whisper Gabriel could concoct.
“Where is Ella?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thurlow did not startle Ella when he approached her; she saw him coming from across the floor. For a man that by his very reputation invoked fear, he appeared somewhat more distracted than usual. Ella considered fleeing to find refuge in the droves of people that were still flooding the castle, but she knew it would be to no avail. Thurlow walked and the seas parted; she would never be able to conceal herself. Ella inspected her besetment desperately. Where was Gabriel? She had not intended, at least consciously, to have her ‘uncle’ tend her the entire evening, but still….even Gabriel had to know that no preparation or clever tactics would ever hold Ella in one piece where Thurlow was concerned. He was, and always would be, her disabler. She’d accepted that fleeing or even compensating for her trepidation by inflicting the most acidic, foul verbal assault she could manage (which always seemed to provide Thurlow with even more pleasure) would do not good. Ella chose for herself a different strategy; one that she’d never tried.
“Why Captain Thurlow,” Ella side, melodiously, “fancy seeing you here this evening.”
Thurlow was still a short distance from her but he heard her greeting perfectly and slowed his step. Was it possible?
“Likewise,” Thurlow said as he stepped finally into her presence. “And I probably don’t need to tell you how marvelous you look tonight.”
Breathe, Ella reminded herself. “It never hurts to tell a girl she is marvelous, Captain,” she declared, trying to cloak her nervousness in flirtatious banter, “and I accept any compliment, even if it has been reiterated countless times. That is, of course, if it is sincere.”
“Then accept this one as well: You are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen.”
“Thank you.”
Why did it feel so seedy when it came from his mouth? Words that were conceived to convey the poetic splendor of the world might as well have been swathed in grime when people like Thurlow spoke them. What a tragedy, Ella thought. Whenever he tried to woo her with sentiment, she became sick to her stomach.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked, relieved there was an insipid topic of conversation to which she could defer her nausea.
“Oh this?” he said, examining his right hand that was bandaged around the knuckles. “This is nothing, really. Just a cut from a broken vase that I helped a servant to clean.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Ella said, thoughtfully.
“Magnanimous?”
“Yes. You’ve always been so very generous to me Captain Thurlow and I have acted like an ungrateful snob to you in return. That was wrong of me. Forgive me.”
Breathe.
Thurlow did more than just listen to Ella when she spoke; he watched her. Vigilantly. It was not a chore for him to do so. He had become quite good at it. And he did not believe a single word she spoke. Who did she think she was fooling, Thurlow wondered, a grin spreading across his face as the notion occurred to him?
Ella still fears you; still wants to run from you. But now she is pretending to fancy you and there can be no other reason than that she wants to please her idiotic uncle.
Thurlow contemplated the ruse purposely in his mind. Why would Ella act in such a way just to please her uncle? Perhaps it is because she wanted to inherit the Duke of Ebersol’s fortunes or perhaps there was some incestuous depravity in their affection with one another. Only one thing really mattered to Thurlow: Ella was beginning to see the light. And she would soon be his, finally. The rest was immaterial. He did not need Ella to want him. Where was the fun in that? He could not have cared less for her uncle’s meaningless approval. The pieces were falling into place. Ella was finally realizing that her companionship to Thurlow was advantageous, prudent, and so very right. Anything more than that was extrinsic. Ella would become the best kind of pupil: so teachable. And the future would be as much an educator to her as Thurlow would (the future would simply not enjoy it as much).
“Ella,” Thurlow asked, staring into her eyes with creeping playfulness, “are you ready?”
Ella’s breath was sucked up into the air and she struggled not to drown in the wake of Thurlow’s cryptic dispensation. “Ready?” she asked, her voice trembling. “For what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just answer the question.”
“I…I don’t…”
“Stop stuttering. Say you are ready, Ella. Say it!”
I am in over my head! God please help me! Gabriel, where are you?
Gabriel spotted Ella after only moments. He was quite frantic. How had he been so blind? By the time he weaved his way through every man and woman in the obscenely large hall, Thurlow had already advanced upon Ella. In his rapid travel, Gabriel saw her generate a soft smile across her face and he could s
carcely believe it. Was she trying to be friendly with a man like Thurlow? Why would she do such a thing?
Then he knew. She was doing it for him. Despite Gabriel’s pronouncement that he would never commission Ella to pretend—even for a second—that she favored Thurlow, she was doing it anyway. Gabriel felt like screaming out for her to stop, to get away from Thurlow, that none of what she was trying to do was necessary. When he had little more than ten paces to go before he could opportunely interrupt their dialogue, Gabriel looked to his left and saw the one man, the only man, that could induce from him the same apprehension as Thurlow and he was stepping into Ella’s company. Prince Leopold. He had finally singled Ella out of the masses and was offering her his hand. Thurlow appeared strangely happy to oblige the interrupter. As Gabriel took his last step into the vacant space next to Thurlow where once Ella stood, he was seized upon by something far worse than envy of Leopold: gratitude. For it had been Leopold who rescued Ella in her hour of need. He’d beat Gabriel to the call. It was a fact that dug away at his gut.
All according to plan.
“Well, your lordship,” Thurlow said toward Gabriel, who was still watching the prince and Ella stroll tranquilly out of view, “it seems I owe you thanks for fulfilling your part of the bargain.”
Gabriel heard Thurlow’s gratuitous accolade and it filled cacophonously the stillness left in Leopold and Ella’s trail. What had become his two greatest antagonists were colliding as one. How was Gabriel supposed to play nicely with others when his entire world was constricting every intuition and all the wherewithal he’d ever possessed? Gabriel had never in his life played nicely with others. Thurlow, his mortal enemy, would be no exception. It was time for the real game to begin.
Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella Page 22