He cleared his throat. “It is the right thing to do.”
She edged closer. “Is that all?”
What was it about the dark that tempted people to speak things they would not in the light? And what had happened to the tiny dragon that shot flames at him only hours ago? This sweet nymph had taken the dragon’s place. No more scales, the nymph was all smooth edges and an enchanting tongue, laced with a melodic accent that threatened to breach his defenses. He shifted his body and his thoughts—both tight with unanswered longing.
“Where did you get him?”
She sighed, as though knowing they had waded into waters better left unstirred. “His mother died bringing him into the world. I tried to save her, but failed in that as well.” Her words were weighted, as though there was more to her meaning than what she said. “Cynthia told me about your mother….” Her tone began to slur with exhaustion. “And she’d said I could find help for him here….”
That explained much as well. He tried to see her in the dark. If only he could watch her eyes, see what tricks played behind them. The question plagued him. How had Ella come to be at a harlot’s birthing?
Perhaps she had been in a bawdy house after all.
Yet even as the accusation raked over his thoughts, he found he didn’t care. Whoever she had been before Belmont…well, it mattered not.
“Ella?”
She didn’t respond, her breath whispering in the moonlight. She slept, the child resting in the safe curve of her body. They both needed the rest. He turned on his back.
Better that she sleep, ignorant of all the things that swarmed within him. Better that she slumber while he doused the embers of a flame that would do neither of them any good.
He eased from the bed, careful not to wake her. He watched her only a moment longer, then slipped back to the coldness of his own chamber. Yes, sleep had granted him a great mercy. Now he would not be foolish enough to reveal more of himself than would be wise.
Color. Color more vivid than any she’d ever seen. Ella ran her hand through the air, expecting the radiant blue to dissipate under her fingers. Light. Light so unnaturally bright she should have had to squint, yet didn’t need to. The light pulsed around her, coming from every direction and not leaving any room for the slightest shadow. Not a shade of darkness touched the pristine sky or the ground around her.
Ella turned, and brought her gaze down from the dazzling sky and to the earth below. Where was she? She took a step forward and grass rippled beneath her feet, swishing against her gown and tickling her fingertips. So green. More green than any grass she’d ever laid eyes upon, it danced in the gentle breeze as though it knew the answers to all of life’s secrets. She cupped it in her hand, marveling at the silky texture.
Warmth enveloped her, the way sunlight felt upon the skin on the most perfect spring day. Ella wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes. A sensation draped over her, something she’d not felt in so long. Peace. An overwhelming sense of peace. Wherever this place was, she didn’t want to leave. She stood there for several moments, allowing the feeling to slide over and around her, shedding light on places too long cast in shadows.
Finally Ella opened her eyes and looked down. She wore a startling gown of the purest white. So clean and clear it almost glowed. She turned, admiring the way it fit her perfectly, as though the seamstress had known every contour of her frame. She ran a hand over it, the smooth fabric glistening under her touch. Such a fine garment, and nothing at all like the dirty dresses or ill-fitting fabrics she usually wore.
Her hair, left free, swayed in the breeze. She captured a strand and examined it. Had it always been this color? Such a glorious red woven with bits of gold? Or was it only that way because of the brilliant light? She dropped the strand and looked around. Other than her, only one thing stood in the great expanse of vibrant blue sky and never ending brilliant green grass.
A tree, wider around than three of her could reach hand in hand, spread majestic branches to the sky. Star-shaped leaves, an effervescent green even brighter than the grass, perched upon the regal branches like the finest birds. Ella ran her fingers through the tall stalks as she walked, letting the grass brush against her palms and send ripples of joy through her tired soul.
She approached the tree and placed a hand upon its trunk, expecting rough bark. Instead, the trunk of deepest brown boasted a velvety covering that even a queen might envy. Ella tilted her head. Odd, indeed.
She turned and looked out over the field, the light around her nearly feeling alive, and bringing every sense awake. Something caught her attention. A scent. Nothing at all like anything she’d inhaled before. She could only describe it as something like sweetness, love, and…goodness. It gently caressed her and she breathed it deeper, allowing her lungs to swell with the pleasure of it.
“Hello, Ella.”
She turned, the brilliant white gown flaring out around her. A man stood by the tree, resting his hand on the trunk and regarding her with a smile. Clothed in white even more brilliant than her own, he reached out a hand to her.
Where she should have felt fear, instead Ella felt only acceptance. She slid her fingers into his and allowed him to pull her into the open.
“May I have this dance?”
Ella smiled. “But there is no music.”
He lifted his brows, his face glowing with sunlight. “Is there not?”
As the words left his upturned lips, Ella noticed the sound. Pure and clear, yet unlike any instrument she had ever heard before. He bowed, and she giggled and made a curtsey. As the music swelled, he spun her around in the grass, her feet moving and gliding in perfect harmony to a tune she couldn’t name. Joy spread through her, and she threw back her head and laughed.
She let go of his hands and twirled, feeling like a small girl again. The grass spun around her, a carousel of green and light. She threw her hands in the air, trying to touch the sparkling sky.
“Ah, so there you are.”
She slowed and turned to him, the smile on her face wide enough to make her cheeks ache. “What do you mean? I have been here the entire time.”
“Have you?”
Something within her stirred, and her heart shifted. Memories came at her like clouds to ruin a clear day.
Ella placed her hands on her head, but the recollections didn’t go away. She saw herself as though she were outside of her body. There she stood after her mother died, dressed in a dirty skirt and torn blouse, a bruise where one of the stallions had nipped her upon her arm. She’d tried to care for the huge, angry creature to please her father but had been terrified.
The vision shifted, and she sat hunched over something in her lap, her fingers pricked as the needle slipped again. She’d strained her hands and eyes learning to make the finest lace like her mother, though she’d never liked it. She’d pretended, because Papa said lace would make money and drawings would not.
Ella closed her eyes and saw the faces of several children—their mocking smiles at her worn clothing, the whispers about her odd behavior behind their hands. Oh, how she had shifted herself to try to make them like her more. Hiding bits here and changing things there.
She’d long ago learned to discover the things about herself that made other children laugh or scorn her and tuck them away so that she would not feel the sting of their rejection again. She learned to bury her love of colors and art under Papa’s admonition that such things were foolishness and a waste of a woman’s time. She taken the joy drawing had given her and boxed it up, sliding it underneath responsibilities that he’d said must come first.
She’d stopped tying colorful scarves in her hair even though she liked them, because the other girls made fun. She learned to cover up the Scottish in her words so that people wouldn’t hear them and turn up their noses.
And then she saw herself in the inn once more, scrubbing dishes and telling herself that she was lucky to be there. Determined if she worked hard enough, if she acted the right way, that
the owners would find worth in her and praise her efforts.
She breathed deep, letting the visions—clearer than even when she’d lived them—wash through her.
After all that, she’d come to Belmont, desperately wanting to be something more than she truly was. Hoping to play the lady and watching her efforts once more crash down around her. And her sweet little Lee—her only hope to find another person in this world to love her and fill that sprawling void that yearned to love and be loved in return. A tear slid out from under her lashes and coursed down her cheek.
A hand cupped her face and gently swiped the tear away. “Under all of that is the real you. The beautiful soul you tried to paint over.”
She blinked away the tears and stared into the intense eyes before her. “Who are you?”
He smiled. “You know who I am.”
“No, I….” She stopped. But she did know. Somewhere deep within her she had known him for a very long time. She just didn’t remember.
He clasped her hand, warm fingers that radiated caring enveloping her own. “Come, sit with me.”
She let him lead her to the tree and settled down next to him. She plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. Questions swirled in her, but she was afraid to voice them. What if she upset him and he made her leave this beautiful place? Could she stay here? Would he bring Lee, too? Oh, and if he came would he still be sick?
“You should rest, Ella,” he said, his tender voice seeping into her thoughts and soothing them away. “Ever you worry about tomorrow before tomorrow comes. Does not each day have enough troubles of its own?”
Ella dropped the grass and leaned back against the tree, comfortable at his side though she didn’t know why. “I’d say that each day has troubles aplenty, that’s for certain.” She drew her bottom lip through her teeth. “But not here. Here it is safe.”
He didn’t respond, and Ella could sense he wanted her to discover something. Already she knew, but didn’t want to accept it. Still, the words came from her lips as though of their own accord. “But I cannot stay here.”
“The time has not yet come.”
She closed her eyes and let her head drop against his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. The troubles seem like they will overwhelm me.”
“Yet, how can you add a single hour to your life by worrying?”
Ella wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I cannot.”
They sat in peaceful silence for a few moments, until he coaxed revelation from her once more. “Why do you hide?”
She watched the grass sway in the breeze. “I don’t know.” She didn’t really. It just seemed to be the safest thing, the thing that protected her tender heart from pain. By doing so, and pretending to be strong, she had learned to build walls that others dared not breach.
“Perhaps by doing so, you have made it harder.”
Had he read her thoughts? “No. When people see me for me, they never like me.”
“Hmm. But I do.”
She turned to look at him. There was something so familiar about him, yet she couldn’t place it. She wanted to say that was because this was a dream and he wasn’t real, but the words would not leave her mouth.
He lifted his brows, as though he knew her thoughts anyway. Then he smiled, and everything within her seemed to glow. “But, Ella, do you not know that who you truly are is special?”
Ella shook her head, fear and anger writhing within her and threatening to ruin all that was perfect here. “There is nothing special about me. I am nobody important.” She clutched the brilliant white dress and held it firm. “I am no spotless girl deserving a man who adores her and children who love her. I have no great talents, remarkable beauty, or astounding intellect.” She bit down her tears and crossed her arms like a petulant child. “What, then, could possibly be special about me?”
He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her. Safety and peace poured through her and unraveled her anger. Ella breathed in the scents of sweet and beauty and wanted nothing more than to stay in this strange dream place.
He hugged her against him. “I think you know why you are special. You only need to discover it again.”
Ella began to feel drowsy and allowed her eyes to close. “Do I? I don’t remember what you say I have forgotten.”
“Seek it and you will find it.” His voice, so sweet, yet so majestic, drifted on the languid breeze, tickling her senses and shifting her world.
She yawned. “Find what?”
“The truth.” He kissed the top of her head. “The truth that sets you free.”
She relaxed and listened to the melody that hung in the air. Then she felt herself change and the scents upon the breeze dissipate. And she knew what it meant. “No!”
Ella bolted upright, only to find herself in the rose room of Belmont Plantation. A startled cry jarred her back to reality, and she looked down at Lee beside her. She plucked him from the bed and rocked back and forth. “Hey, now, wee lad. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Lee settled and blinked up at her, his tiny face reminding her of the strength she would need. Memories of the night before began to plop down upon her like the slow beginning of a downpour.
The storm. Lee’s cough. Sibby’s leg. And Major Remington….
Ella looked down at the quilt that covered her rumpled dress and tried to shake strange sensations from her. Had he been here in the night? Or had that only been a part of the unnervingly realistic dream she’d had?
The field. The tree. Ella shivered. Never had a dream been so vibrant or clear, so dramatically realistic, the colors so pure and the sounds so clean. And him….
The thought of him brought an ache. She knew him, and yet didn’t. She closed her eyes as she rocked Lee and tried to remember his face. All she could recall of it was light and goodness, beauty and love. Somehow the features of him didn’t matter. Not the color of his eyes, the shape of his nose, or the way his hair framed his face mattered. Not a single distinction that usually defined a person clung to him. All that could define him was the way he’d made her feel.
She’d felt almost like a truer version of her own self. Dangerous, that. Such vulnerability would bring only one thing—pain.
Lee coughed and began to wiggle, and Ella pushed aside the dream. No matter how clean and beautiful a place her mind had imagined, it wasn’t reality. The real world colors were dimmer, and problems she could not afford to ignore pressed upon her. The dream provided a nice fantasy, but here stood the truth of her life. A precarious situation and a fragile babe who needed her to be strong. She couldn’t afford to frolic in dreamland while little Lee needed her.
Ella swung her feet off the bed and headed to the door that led to the nursery. She paused and looked over her shoulder at the door on the other side, the one that connected to the master’s chamber. Did Westley yet sleep?
She chided herself. What would possess her to call the major by his given name, even in her own mind? Perhaps he had invited her, during that hazy time when he had trespassed on her privacy and her heart, but if she allowed herself to do that, the name may very well pass through her lips as well. She turned back to the nursery. No, that wouldn’t do. No matter what he had said then, if that time even existed, it would not be safe for her to open that door.
Ella straightened her spine and drew the familiar walls back around her like a heavy cloak. Burdensome they may be, but there was safety in familiarity. She smoothed her features and settled her restless spirit as best she could.
She found Sibby sitting up in bed, her foot propped on a tower of pillows. “Mornin’ Miss Ella. Our little man hungry?”
Ella coerced a smile from her lips. “I hope so.”
Sibby reached for him, and Ella handed him over, once more thinking about the goat. Would it be wrong of her to wish to feed him on her own? Major Remington said she could stay. She wrinkled her forehead. At least, she thought he did. Time would tell.
Lee coughed and turned his head, but then, thankfu
lly, began to nurse. Ella let out a breath that stirred the hair hanging in disarray around her face. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid he wouldn’t eat.”
“Me, too. This here be a good sign, Miss Ella.”
She ran a hand over her hair, relief washing over her. “I still want to go to town and fetch the doctor.”
Sibby kept her gaze on the child. “No need.”
Ella opened her mouth to protest. Just because he now ate didn’t mean that his cough did not still worry….
“Major Westley done gone.”
Her mouth felt dry. “He what?”
“He done left with the first light.” Sibby’s mouth twitched like she knew something Ella didn’t.
Ella crossed her arms. “He shouldn’t be walking that far.”
Sibby shrugged. “I weren’t gonna tell him that. He can be right stubborn once he done set his mind to something.”
Ella stood there, unsure what to say. She wanted to ask if Sibby knew anything about whether the major had mentioned her employment, but dared not. She feared that if she said such hopes aloud, they might all the sooner be crushed.
“Why don’t you go on and get washed up and put on a fresh dress?” Sibby’s words tugged her from scattered thoughts that flitted on a wind of uncertainty.
“Yes, a clean dress would be nice…” Ella turned, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her.
She put one foot over the threshold when Lee made a strangled sound, coughing up milk and sputtering. Ella spun around. Sibby draped the cloth over herself and patted Lee on the back. “There now. Easy.”
Her heart thudded. She should be the one caring for him. Ella set her teeth. She would find a goat, and with it the ability to not rely on another to care for her child.
“You go on now, Miss Ella. I’s got him.”
Ella stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, reminding herself how grateful she was for Sibby’s help.
Ella pulled the widow’s silks from the armoire, donned her dry underpinnings, and fastened her hair into a sensible bun. She regarded herself in the mirror, her trembling fingers trailing over the fabric that felt too coarse, her watering eyes sliding over colors that were far too drab.
In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance Page 17
