by Ella Edon
Esther staggered back. His words hit her hard, and she felt tears gleam in her eyes. She felt her heartbeat falter and then surge as his words rang in her ears. Pity. He had only pitied her. She had been his way to redeeming himself of the guilt he felt for his sister’s death. Perhaps he had thought that helping her would relieve him of the guilt he felt for not saving Agnes. She gasped as it all made sense.
She felt as though she was choking as everything started to fall into place. Stefan had never cared for her. Never. She had simply been one of the many Agnes's of the world, and he had taken pity on her. There was nothing more to it.
When it had sunk in, Esther backed up toward the door. She was still facing Stefan, watching him breathe in rage. She shook her head, fighting the tears brimming to her eyes. Her heart shattered, and that was when a tear fell. She watched Stefan's eyes widen. She turned immediately and ran out of the open doors. With tears cascading down her face, she fled Sands Castle and regretted ever going there.
* * *
Her pretense had gone on for days. This time, she wanted to prove Stefan wrong. She was not weak. She would not be broken by his words. She was strong. She would not let his actions affect her. Her heart still burned from his words, but she had kept herself together because Katherine was to be wed.
She had forced smiles for days and joined in the preparations for the wedding. But sometimes, in her own privacy, she had shed a tear or more, because Stefan had hurt her, more than she had ever imagined. Yet she remembered the kiss and remembered that she had gone so they could talk about the kiss. But Stefan was not a man who could change. He had not changed. He still bedded his mistresses, and she had been someone he pitied.
How could she have let herself care so greatly for him? Each passing moment, she wished she could see him, walking towards her, sauntering, grinning, with his blond hair combed back smoothly and his boots echoing against the floor. She wished she could see his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he spoke to her. And it didn't make sense that she wished such, because he had hurt her.
"Esther." Anne touched her arm, her brows creased. "Is everything alright?"
Esther looked around. There was a jolly couple beside her. When the song went off, the gentleman moved the lady with it, and everyone around them laughed. She tried to laugh at this as well as she replied Anne. "Of course."
Anne creased her brows. "It is Katherine's wedding, and I want it all to be perfect for her. We both want that. We have been working hard for that. But if there's any problem, at all. Do not forget that you have us to talk to."
Esther smiled. "No problem, at all."
Anne cocked her head to the side. "You said you have no feelings for the Duke?"
"None."
"Are you sure? His ending the courtship did not hurt you?"
Esther had told her friends that Stefan ended the courtship. She had not gone into detail, but she knew they didn't believe her. "I'm absolutely fine. Anne, it's Katherine's day. Our focus should be on her."
Anne smiled and nodded. "You're right. But please, Esther, talk to us if whatever happened has upset you."
Esther nodded once, forcing a smile. A loud guffaw attracted them. They both faced the circle forming. At the center of the circle, Katherine and Victor stood, moving against each other in a slow dance. Katherine's immaculate white gown glowed. Her hair was pulled up in a neat bun, and the silver piece on her hair shone. Victor, in his black tailcoat and gold waistcoat, looked dashing as well. The smiles on their faces were only enough to make Esther smile, too, but it didn't quench the longing and the sadness in her heart.
The feel of a hand on her back startled her. Esther turned, and she was almost dazed when she saw a smiling Nicholas, standing behind her. His smile was bright enough to make her smile, too, and he must have known what she was thinking.
"Katherine invited me."
Katherine had agreed to make her wedding ball small, rather than grand, claiming she wanted very few people in attendance. So, Esther wondered, how Nicholas had fallen into the small circle.
"Did she now? I had no idea that she had."
Nicholas chuckled. He stood beside her and stared around. First, his gaze was on the dancing couple before it drifted helplessly around. She watched him with raised brows. He turned to her after a while.
"Are you looking for someone?"
He licked his lips and shook his head. "Esther, I don't mean to interfere with your life. But a rumor has been going around. The Duke is York has stopped courting you?"
Esther forced her widest of smiles. "That is, indeed, true. His Grace and I just weren’t compatible. We're quite different and do not see things the same way. We decided that nothing could come out of it."
Nicholas tittered. "That is quite surprising. The Duke must have been hurt. He seemed to care a great deal for you. But I could tell that perhaps, you didn't feel the same way."
Esther creased her brows, but said nothing. After a while, when she was tired of reflecting on what he had said, she nodded and spoke dryly. "Perhaps."
The crowd clapped loudly, averting Esther's attention. Nicholas held out his hand then. "The waltz would commence now. Would you like to dance?"
Esther stared at his hand for a while. With a slight nod, she eased her hands into his. As his hands enclosed hers, she couldn't help but wish that it was Stefan who was standing beside her.
* * *
"Do you ever feel that perhaps, if I hadn't...done what I did, then we would have been wed by now?"
Esther froze at his words. It had been so long since what had happened to them, but she had never had time to think that perhaps they would have been married now if he hadn't bedded someone else.
"Perhaps."
She was distracted. Her eyes kept darting around the ballroom, looking for familiar blue eyes.
"Esther, I've wanted to talk to you for a long time. However, I feared to have to approach you, because the Duke was courting you. I thought that you would fall for him. A gentleman so rich, powerful, and, even if it is difficult to admit, handsome. But again, I should have known that this would happen. A gentleman with is reputation is not a match for you. Perhaps, this is fate, trying to give us another chance."
Esther swallowed hard as she stared at him. This was Nicholas, who, after everything, was back to her. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps with Stefan, it had all been a phase, and Nicholas was who she was meant to be with.
"Esther, I'm sorry for what happened between us in the past. I — I made a terrible mistake. I was childish and immature. I made a mistake that I will forever regret. However, I am willing to atone in whatever way I can. Esther, dear Esther, I still — I still feel deeply for you. And I know that we are meant to be."
He twirled her around and brought her back to face him. Her heart was beating madly as she stayed close to him, his eyes locked with hers.
"Esther, would you permit me to court you, again?"
This was Nicholas, whom she had wanted all along. He was the reason she had even let Stefan court her. Everything they had planned had been leading to one thing: her reunion with Nicholas. And here was that wish coming to pass. Nicholas was pleading with her again. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Why would she throw it away for someone who simply pitied her?
Esther nodded, though her mind still clouded with unanswered questions. Slowly, she said yes.
Trying to convince herself, she nodded again and again, each “yes” louder than the last. Nicholas laughed in glee and promised not to disappoint her again.
"I'll visit your father first thing tomorrow and ask his permission. I promise you, Esther, we are meant to be. We were just being tested, but now we can be happy."
Esther nodded absently, her gaze searching his. Her heart was swelling with fear and uncertainty. Her yeses and nods were supposed to convince her that she was making the right choice, but something didn’t feel right.
"Yes," she said again, louder, with a huge grin but with the same uncertainties tha
t came with the previous one.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"For every time we lose one dear to us, our hearts are heavy. But rest assured that the soul of the one we lost is always, always with us," the priest said.
So why then did the soul stay when the body was gone? Stefan questioned himself. Why did the body leave when the soul would still linger? Why didn't the soul just go away, just like the body had?
"From dust to dust. Lady Agnes Hamilton, of the House of York..."
Stefan let the priest's words fade as he stared at the painting of his sister.
They were all seated in the church, donning black, tears in their eyes and their shoulders slumped, shaking in grief. They had held a service. One that would help them remember her soul. His father was seated by his mother, and the Duchess of York lay her head on his shoulder, but she was not comforted. He looked around gloomily, watching, praying, that somehow, Agnes would push the coffin open and laugh, laugh so hard they'd all laugh too.
Alexandra was seated close to him, her eyes blank, staring across the church quietly. His eyes were drenched with tears. He thought of Lord Marsden. Agnes’s beloved Gabriel didn't come to her funeral. He didn't even have the decency to pay homage to her family for their loss. And seeing that he was the reason she was now gone, he ought to have. There and then, Stefan made up his mind of what he thought of love. It was unreal, dishonest, uncaring, unkind, and hurtful. It brought pain and death. It took his sister away from him and left her family alone, sad, mourning.
Clenching his fists, he swore that he would never be like Agnes. He would never submit himself to such vulnerability, where someone would have the power to ruin him, just by leaving him.
Once again, Stefan was that young lad, and he didn't want to defy his own rules.
He had been fifteen when Agnes was found dead at the bottom of the house. Twelve years since that very event and he was still not over it. He had been awoken by William's resonating scream echoing through the house like an empty well. He had jolted up from bed abruptly and dashed into William's room. He had peered out the window, and the horror he was met with would live with him forever.
Days before Agnes had killed herself, she had received a letter from Gabriel, Lord Marsden. The man whom she had loved. Agnes had been nineteen, a few years older than Stefan and newly introduced to the ton. She met Gabriel at her debut, and he began courting her some months after. Agnes fell in love with him, crazily, she talked about him all the time and hoped that he would come to seek her hand in marriage. Stefan had been happy for her. So happy. But then, Lord Marsden left, and shortly after his departure, sent a letter to her, claiming that he didn't feel so deeply for her. Stefan had watched Agnes cry for days until she was mute.
Everyone, especially him who was closest to Agnes, decided that it was best to leave her be.
"She will come around," Mother had said, smiling warmly. "Agnes will come around. In no time, she will get over him, and we can all move on."
They had been wrong. Agnes pretended to come around. She pretended for weeks, and they thought she was better until they found her dead. The note on her pillow was enough proof that she had never been getting better. She had only wanted to act as though she was better, to make them happy. None of them had ever seen it coming. Her death came like a whirlwind. William still had nightmares from seeing her that way. The poor boy had only been five when he'd seen Agnes like that.
Robert had not been born then. It was sad that Robert never knew Agnes, and Stefan had forbidden anyone from ever speaking of her. For a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to her. He blamed himself for not insisting on being by her side. He still felt guilty. Perhaps if he had not let her be, Agnes would still be alive. He should have been there for her.
"I should have been there for her," he repeated.
He was seated in his courtyard, Eugene was opposite him, his hands clasped together on the table. Stefan could only think of nothing but his argument with Esther days before. He had never spoken about Agnes since her death. However, he had wanted to defend himself from Esther's judging gaze that he had lashed out defensively, the best way he could. He wanted to hurt her because her scathing eyes judged him mercilessly, leaving him vulnerable. He never wanted to be vulnerable before anyone, but that was what Esther had made him at that moment. Vulnerable.
"Stefan, don't be so hard on yourself. It's no sin that you finally spoke about Agnes."
Stefan shook his head. His friend did not understand. "I didn't speak of Agnes in honor. I used her death to justify my actions, to save myself. It was a cruel thing that I have done."
Eugene sighed. He knew full well that Stefan was right. He had done wrong. He had spoken of Agnes in a situation where all he wanted was to defend himself.
He swallowed hard and looked away. He had hurt Esther, and he wasn't sure he would be able to face her again. "I hurt her, Eugene. But she hurt me first."
"Do you think your anger was enough justification for hurting her as you did? There was a scenario before her. She had every right to believe it as she did. I wager that she wanted you to deny what she was seeing, but all you did was attack her, Stefan. You shouldn't blame the lady."
"Blimey!" Stefan snapped. "You would never understand what it feels like to be judged at every turn."
"And when did you start caring about what people said, Stefan? You have led this life for years. Why do you seem bothered now?" Eugene raised a brow.
Stefan considered his question. Why did Esther's opinion bother him so much? What did it matter what she thought? He cursed and looked away, unable to stare at Eugene without feeling ashamed. He breathed hard and closed his eyes. At least he didn't want to see Esther again. He didn't want to feel vulnerable for anyone, ever again. And he told Eugene exactly that.
"If you feel that what you have done is justified, then I leave you to your choice," Eugene muttered dryly. "But I do hope, Your Grace, that you would realize that your actions are worth regretting."
Before he could reply, a sharp call of his name startled him.
"Stefan!"
Both he and Eugene averted their gazes. Alexandra ran up to where they were seated, Francis, Eugene's son trailing her. They both had smiles on their faces, Francis held up the bow in his hand, laughing and saying something to Alexandra.
Alex ran up to the courtyard and stood beside Stefan. "Francis has requested that I coach him on archery. Will you let me, Stefan?"
Francis stood beside his father and began to speak in French, holding his hands in the air and grinning widely. "Papa!" was all Stefan understood from what the young boy was saying.
Alexandra chattered away as well. "I told you, Stefan, I shoot well enough. And now even the French lad sees it. He has requested that I coach him."
Stefan laughed. Alexandra was always proud of what she could do. She was happier these days. Even Lady Castleroy had warmed up to her, and often hid behind her fan to smile.
"Of course, Alexandra, you could coach him. So long as Eugene accepts."
Eugene, on the other hand, chuckled and nodded. "You can indeed coach him, but you'll need to be supervised by his nanny."
"Yes!" Alexandra shouted in glee. "I can't wait to tell Esther that I have acquired one of the many skills I actually wanted to know."
Stefan's smile wavered as he watched Alexandra face the young lad gleefully. He recalled the day Esther had been teaching her to walk. He remembered that Alex, for the first time in a long time, had been happy to listen to someone about how to change her walk. Esther had made a huge impact. He was sure that for a very brief while, he would be reminded of Esther. But he was certain that it would be brief. He would not let himself vulnerable again. He would get over Esther. He would move on. Wouldn't he? Because he wasn’t going to be as vulnerable as Agnes. Never would he allow his heart be a captive to someone, anyone. He breathed out roughly and stared ahead.
As the wind blew across and whirled air his way, he thought that he had s
melled something sweet and familiar, he looked around, hoping to see a lady with brown hair and red cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was an invitation going around town. The Duchess of Somerset was throwing a Christmas ball in her castle. After Katherine's wedding ball, the duchess was not quite pleased that it was not so grand. So, she took it upon herself to organize the largest Christmas ball in all of London. The ball was well anticipated, and the news had gone all around. Esther stared at the invitation sent to Lady Kinross. It was seated on the desk in the hallway, carelessly. Perhaps one of the children had been with it and had left it lying around.
