Eventually Yours

15 A Chance to Live

Perhaps I was still in shock. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as prominent ladies of society filtered in and out of the powder room around me. I took a breath and splashed some water on my face from the fresh wash basin in front of me. I shouldn't have worn the undergarments. I couldn't believe I had. Mother was right. They were inappropriate, especially for an English lady, but the silk had seemed so enticing and the French were always so free that I supposed I wanted to taste a bit of that freedom for myself. Though, of course, it wouldn't have mattered. I hadn't seen the harm in it. No one would know but me, well me and Madison. So I could have that feeling of freedom and keep it close to my heart and no one would ever know the scandal I had gotten away with. That was the plan. But then Madison had gotten herself drunk and ruined it all.

"Ella," she said now, door swinging behind her as she entered the powder room, undoubtedly having come in search of me. I didn't turn to her. I kept my gaze firmly on my own face in the mirror and clenched my jaw to keep the anger I was feeling toward my oldest friend at bay. "Ella, please, I am so so sorry. I messed up. I've embarrassed you. Oh, how could I have been so stupid?"

"You've sobered up then?" I asked, turning to face her, leaning against the counter behind me.

"Champagne goes straight to my head. I'm so sorry. I should have known better."

"Why did you drink so much, Madison? That isn't like you."

"Benthem and I had a fight," she sighed, plopping down on the loveseat by the door. I felt the tension release from my shoulders as I strolled over to her and joined her on the couch. I couldn't be upset with her when she seemed so miserable. "It's this Lord Wallace. He wants to sell Benthem some land here just outside of town. Benthem wants to move here."

"And you don't?"

"I do. Or, it isn't that I don't want to move back home. I would love that. But what about our estate? What about the life we've made for ourselves in Newcastle? I have friends there too and Benthem, he has family and the Duke. We left to create something for ourselves, to have something of our own to pass on for our children."

"Can't you make that here?"

She shrugged, "The land offering is a quarter of the size of our estate in Newcastle. And the house occupying the lot is old and worn down. We would have to fix it, if not tear it down and rebuild completely and I just don't-"

"I understand," I told her, reaching out to pat her leg. She smiled weakly up at me.

"You have no right being so understanding, you know," she told me. "After what I did to you out there, you should hate me."

"Well, Elijah will have to recover from hearing about his little sister's undergarments, this is true, but it seems that Benthem's heard far worse from you," I said, nudging her shoulder in jest. She chuckled. "So, I imagine, no harm done."

"And the Duke?" she queried, raising a brow. I sighed.

"Nothing to be done about that. Though, fortunately, he does not seem to be a gossip so we can rest assured it will remain between the five of us."

"That's not what I meant, Ella."

I looked up to find her watching me carefully.

"Madison..." I warned.

"You can tell me, Ella," she said with a sort of pleading in her tone, turning to me and clasping my hand between hers. "I swear I won't go blabbing it next time I have a drink. If tonight is any indication, I won't have another drink for a very long time."

"There's nothing to tell," I told her, extricating my hand from hers. She frowned.

"I thought we didn't lie to each other. I thought that was a part of our friendship."

"I am not-"

"I see how you look at him, Ella. I've never seen you look at anyone else that way before. And I'd thought I'd known your looks rather well by now. For Sir Thomas Abney, disgust. The rest? Either disdain or disinterest. But for the Duke? It's... something. Something different."

"Despised," I told her, standing. "I hate him, Madison."

Her lips parted in shock and a hand flew to her chest as she had the decency to be surprised like a lady.

"Hate him? But why? What has he done to you?" she asked.

"He didn't- it's not that he- he hasn't- ugh. Look, I didn't like him at first. The way he flaunts his handsomeness about in our faces as if he's a gift bestowed upon us and we should worship the ground he walks on. And I hate that it works for him. I hate that every woman in town becomes a besotted fool around him. I hate that everyone at this cursed ball is wearing white in an effort to get him to choose one of them for a wife. I hate that he gave Emily hope that he might be interested in her. I hate that he's got even Benthem and Elijah wrapped around his finger. I hate... I hate..."

My anger began to dissipate as I paced the room, realizing the true reason I felt such strong anger towards the Duke.

"I hate the way he looks at me," I added, much more quietly, as I hung my head and leaned over the counter, avoiding my own reflection in the mirror. I heard Madison give a soft gasp but I ignored her. "I hate the way he makes me feel."

"How?" Madison asked softly.

"Like I'm living for the first time. Like I was merely existing before but now... now I finally have a chance to... live."

I felt a hand upon my shoulder and looked up to find Madison smiling at me.

"Oh dear," she whispered, reaching out and pulling me toward her, holding me there in front of the mirrors as the music drifted in from the ballroom outside. "Your first love."

I pulled away from her.

"I don't love him," I snapped.

"But, Ella-"

"I don't love him, Madison."

With that, I stomped past her, head swimming with a million thoughts at once as I pushed through the doors and came face to face with an image I would likely never forget for as long as I lived. The crowd parted and my sister, my dull, surly, wallflower sister dancing happily in the middle with the Duke himself. I froze, jaw hung open as the women nearest the door burst into whispers over the same scene I was viewing. I heard rushed footsteps come to a sudden stop behind me and felt the whoosh of the powder room door swinging closed again.

"Ella-" Madison started again.

I just shook my head and fled. I pushed my way through the crowd, bypassing Elijah when he called out my name and reached for me, ignoring my mother when she tried to make some sort of introduction to a young gentleman she had been speaking with, and nearly knocking Benthem over when he tried to stand in my way.

I burst into the night, flinging the immaculate doors closed behind me as I gulped in as much of the midnight air as my lungs could take. I felt tears prickling the corners of my eyes and wiped them away before they could fall. What foolishness. Without bothering to lift my hem, I fled toward the street. I was passing the first lamppost when I heard Elijah shouting my name. I only sped up, my slippered feet slapping against the pavement as I ran, a cloud of black flowing like smoke behind me.