Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (16 page)

“Thank you,” Isolda said. “Peter and I were just discussing the niece he and I both share.”

“Oh?” said Thurlow.

“Yes,” she replied. “Her name is Ella Delaquix and we both are troubled that she has wandered off.”

Isolda was far from satiated from her and Peter’s discourse and hoped to entice Thurlow to go after Ella. She was well aware the wild obsession that the captain had for her niece. She would have been hard pressed to find someone who didn’t know. Thurlow did not take the bait. He felt assured that Ella was quite safe, wherever she was. The Hussars guarded him; they guarded her.

Gabriel remained silent.

He wants to take Ella against her wishes. If you kill him now, you won’t just be avenging your brother, you will be ensuring Ella’s safety and her peace of mind. Even her happiness.

“Yes, she has indeed,” Gabriel added, “and seeing as she and I must depart soon, I will go and find her. Good evening to you both.”

Isolda and Thurlow watched as Peter stepped away and began navigating the ballroom, seemingly in search of Ella. Isolda was disappointed. She turned to Thurlow. He did not return her gaze. His eyes did not waver as they followed Peter around the room. She opened her mouth to speak but Thurlow departed with little warning.

Gabriel tried not to appear frantic. He was failing.

“Pardon me,” Thurlow said to Gabriel, who had made his way to a deserted area of the ballroom, hopeful Ella had chosen to sit quietly in solitude and he had only overlooked her. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private.”

Gabriel stood erect.

Breathe. It is not time yet.

“In private?” Gabriel questioned, standing toe to toe with Thurlow…the man, the villain.

“Yes, and I think right here will do just fine.”

“What is it you would like to discuss with me, Captain?”

“Well, it has been my intention for a quite sometime now to woo your niece and take her hand in marriage. Her father passed away before I could request his blessing. It looks as though that privilege falls to you.”

“You want to propose marriage to Ella?”

“I do. I can promise you it will be a union that will provide for her every luxury she can imagine. She will never want for anything, I assure you.”

“I am certain she won’t. But I am a modern man and I would not be acting in my niece’s best interest if I did not consider her feelings.”

Thurlow peered deeper into Gabriel’s eyes.

Breathe.

“Does she fancy you?” Gabriel asked, matching Thurlow’s stare without blinking.

Rage followed, for both of them. Thurlow counted the seconds in his head until his blood cooled and he relaxed enough to speak without his temper erupting.

“In truth, sir, I am overwhelmed with matters of state every hour of every day,” he said with pained pleasantry, “and I have had very little time to spend with Ella. Any doubt she may have about me will be put to rest after we get to know each other better.”

Time is something you have little of, Captain.

“I understand, Captain,” Gabriel replied with neither pleasantness nor pain. “Once you have had more time and Ella’s doubts are indeed at rest, call on me again. Until then, good evening to you.”

Gabriel intended to step away from his enemy quite gracefully, but found himself locked into place by Thurlow’s fixed, reptilian stare.

You are not the only predator, Captain Thurlow.

“The Duke of Ebersole,” Thurlow stated boldly, readjusting his footing but remaining casual in stance. “I wonder what it takes for the son of a wealthy, reputable duke and duchess to flee from a life of luxury just to explore the nuances of this brave new world.”

Gabriel did not budge.

“I mean,” Thurlow went on, “it is almost like you were running away; like you had something to hide. But what do I know? Rumors are mere conjecture. You don’t need me to remind you how our pasts can catch up to us.”

You will be reminded soon enough.

“Why don’t you speak plainly to me, Captain,” Gabriel replied stolidly, “for this seems a one-sided dialogue for which you have the only script.”

“Touché. But I don’t want it to be that way, truthfully. I would just like to get to know you. We will be family someday, will we not? You must trust now that I have only Ella’s best interests at heart. I would, and will, do anything for her. I need you to see that.”

“I do see.”

“Well, I should hope so. I am inclined to worry about your niece when it appears her main guardian—you—might be…how do I put this…in too deep?”

“Well said, even for a cliché,” Gabriel retorted. “Might I inquire as to where you obtained your intelligence on my less than reputable history?”

“Don’t fret over that, Peter,” Thurlow said, dismissing Gabriel’s request. “You may rest easy in your popularity. It is not in jeopardy.”

“As long as I bless your betrothal to Ella with sincerest of heart, that is.”

“Just the first part is required, sir. Don’t feel obliged to go the extra mile.”

Gabriel felt his bones quivering against his flesh. It was almost too much to take in. It was too much. Thurlow was audaciously trying to blackmail a man whose worst offense was something as asinine as absconding with thousands of dollars from a corrupt banker and had most likely already been killed or beaten to a pulp because of it (according to Marion’s most educated assumption). So Gabriel had thus far succeeded in his espionage. Everyone, including Thurlow, believed him to be none other than Peter, the Duke of Ebersol. He could have laughed out loud if it wasn’t for the blood scalding the inside of his body. Gabriel cooled his temperature with the reminder that Thurlow would soon be gone.

“I will speak to my niece very soon, Captain,” Peter said, pleasantly and with not a hint of ire. “You can count on that.”

“Excellent. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to the castle for urgent business.”

“Gwent is lucky to have a man like you to protect it.”

Thurlow did not reply, he only nodded. He bowed to Peter Summerly, the Duke of Ebersole, and turned on his heel. In seconds, he was gone from Gabriel’s view.

Breathe. It is not time yet.

“Don’t feel pity for the Baroness Delancelle,” a servant named Thadeus said. “She has taken many lovers in her thirty year marriage to Ritzlare. Just because her husband has been satisfied with the same mistress for almost that entire time doesn’t mean he is any more an adulterer than she is.”

Ella heard the staff’s bantering voices and could hardly contain her shock. Or her pleasure. She’d lost track of how long she’d been listening to them. Only a few times had any of them directly addressed her in their chitchat, but Ella didn’t care. She was more than content to eavesdrop. She was excited just to be admitted into their clique, if only temporarily.

“Miss?” said a teenage girl to Ella.

“Yes?” Ella answered.

“What is it like to be so pretty?

Ella was stunned.

“What?” she implored, hoping she had misheard the question or the woman who looked to be the girl’s mother would interrupt the exchange and rescue Ella from the bizarre inquiry. But it never happened.

“What does it feel like to be so pretty, Ella?” the girl repeated.

“How can I tell what something feels like when I do not actually
feel
it?” Ella answered with her own question. Why not be honest or at least try to confuse the girl into choosing an alternative line of questioning?

“You are being silly. You have one of the most breathtaking faces I have ever seen.”

“Thank you. Truly, I am touched. But I was not lying nor was I rummaging for a compliment when I declared that I feel no such thing. I wish people would believe me when I say that.”

“How can we believe you,” Thadeus asked brazenly, “when you are so clearly mistaken? And don’t say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I could be blind and your looks would still entrance a room.”

Ella looked down at her lap where her gloved hands rested.

“Maybe to the world I am a formulaic representation of prettiness,” she said, her head still bowed, “but if I am, I am not the happier for it.”

“Why not?” the girl asked.

Ella could not answer; she did not know what the solution was. All she could guess was that she’d have rather been given at the least a choice to be pretty or to be
something
else. Anything else. She lifted her head and looked deeply into the young girls green eyes.

“’Beauty’ hasn’t served my life that well, I suppose,” she declared.

“Try not having it,” the girl’s mother stated, curtly.

Ella’s heart thumped, once again stunned.

Thadeus opened his mouth to speak, his eyes displaying little fulfillment in the direction of the conversation. He did not utter a sound however, and instead peered over Ella’s head. He stood quickly. Each of the servants copied. Ella turned around in her seat and looked up to see what had put everyone on alert.

“Gabriel!” Ella exclaimed, stunned to see him standing behind her. He looked down at her, pursing his lips together and staring into Ella’s eyes like he was trying to communicate in a silent language. It took only an instant for Ella to ascertain the justification for his concern.
Gabriel!

“Er, I mean…” Ella stuttered as she stood and turned back to the puzzled faces of Baroness Delancelle’s laundry staff, “Peter! This is my uncle, Peter the Duke of Ebersol.” She giggled girlishly like it was a common, understandable mistake but no one else responded in kind.

“Sometimes,” she said, still smiling as she fumbled about with her hands as well as her diction, “I call my uncle by the name Gabriel! I’ve done it since I was a young girl, I guess because he reminds me of the Angel Gabriel.”

Well done, you stupid girl!
Ella reviled herself in thought.

Gabriel was equally dumbfounded by her “quick thinking.”

“Come along, Ella” he said, reaching and taking hold of Ella’s wrist, “it is time for us to retire for the night.”

Ella resisted only a little to say a proper farewell to the company that had made her evening bearable. Gabriel pulled her quite forcefully and Ella was only able to speak the words as she was almost half way down the darkened hallway.

Even when she caught up to Gabriel’s gait, he maintained his grip on her wrist and brusquely escorted her through the maze to an exit, any exit that would provide passage into the freedom of the cold night. Ella looked over to him as they walked and immediately sensed that he was struggling to keep calm, and was losing the struggle. Ella regretted her actions that evening. She had not told him where she was going. She had not bothered to think that he might have needed her there with him.

The only other man that Ella had ever feared in her life was Thurlow. And such fear had been rooted in disgust and revulsion. She was afraid of Gabriel in that moment as well. But where there had been aversion with Thurlow, with Gabriel there was only the enigma of disappointment—in herself. She was certain Gabriel would not bring physical harm upon her. But his power over her mind and heart paved the way for a more devastating kind of abuse. He did not need to say a word. He had already established his expectations and even his faith in her potential. And she’d let him down.

Ella had stated only minutes earlier that her soul wanted more from life than just the whims of attractiveness. How could she have forgotten that Gabriel had been the one to offer such a thing? Had she just sabotaged her chance to truly obtain something she’d always coveted…with him?

Chapter Twelve

Though the night air was bitterly cold, Marion still waited anxiously on the outside terrace to hear the clopping of horse hooves. Ella’s carriage could emerge from the blackened landscape at any time, as Marion did not know what time of night it even was or when Ella and Gabriel were supposed to be returning. Still, she waited.

Marion revealed to no one how much Ella reminded her of her late son. Daniel had died when he was seven years old from scarlet fever. Before that, the only true despair Marion had ever known was when her husband died, two years prior. As much as she had loved the man, it paled in comparison to losing a child. For months, Marion withdrew from every element of society to grieve in the literal and figurative darkness that was anguish. Because of her depression, Marion was dismissed from her employment for a duke and duchess in Goldeleer, a region in the northeastern part of Gwent. She had worked for the duke for almost ten years when she was discharged from their service and swore she would never again take employment within the home of an aristocrat. It was hatred unlike Marion had ever felt for such “noble” people that declared they could not tolerate a grieving mother’s unproductive melancholy when they had already endured so much two years earlier, when Marion became a widow. She considered herself a God-fearing woman but came perilously close to offering her soul to the devil for a way to avenge her pride. For without a husband or her son, pride was all Marion had left.

Even if she could not admit as much to him, or anyone, Marion knew in part what Gabriel was feeling. She’d felt the pain of loss and the sting of cruelty. She was more than keen to the lure of retribution and how even imagining it coming to fruition was like placing the sweetest, lightest morsel of warm bread on your tongue and letting it melt in your mouth like butter. She got it. She understood Gabriel. But that said nothing of her trusting him with Ella.