Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘Yes, my dear. For love, it must be.’

Hell’s whiskers! He’s really going to do it! He’s really going to take advantage of your poor, innocent little sister and whisk her away.

Getting stealthily to my feet, I prepared to launch myself from the bushes if he made even one tiny move towards her.

A rake! That’s what he is! A dastardly rake!

I knew what was coming next, of course. I had heard Anne and Maria discuss romance novels often enough. Next he would grab Ella and carry her off into the night. But he didn’t reckon with me in that equation! The moment he touched her, I would be ready to take up the chase!

Of course, there’s the small matter of the fence between them, so you probably won’t have to hurry that much.

‘Are you in earnest, Edmund?’ Ella whispered. ‘Do not toy with my heart. Would you really make me your wife, if you could?’

Grasping her hand, he stepped forward. I prepared to jump out of the bushes, but he didn’t move to touch any other, strictly restricted, parts of her. Instead, he fell to his knees, bowing his head over her hand and kissing it softly.

‘How could you ever doubt it?’ he demanded. ‘For years I have admired your beauty, your charm and your loving nature. My love for you has grown and blossomed ever since it first sprang to life. Now that is has come to full bloom, nothing will stop me from making you mine. Will you do me the honour…?’

With a small sob, she pulled her hand from his grasp. I could see her face as she turned from him, towards my hiding place, her arms wrapped around her slender body as if to protect herself.

‘This,’ she said in a quivering voice, ‘has gone far enough.’

The words may have been weak, but on Edmund they fell like a hammer blow. I was almost disappointed not to see a substantial bump swelling up on his head.

‘W-what?’

‘I said, this has gone far enough.’ She turned back to him, and as she did I could see the moisture on her face glittering in the moonlight. She seemed to have an endless supply of tears tonight. Dear me… This love thing seemed to require an enormous quantity of bodily fluids.

‘Please,’ she continued, ‘do not torture me further by actually asking me. I could not bear it.’

His voice in return was broken. Utterly defeated. ‘You no longer love me then.’

Ella twitched as if she had been hit by a whip. Rushing forward, she grasped the poles of the fence.

‘Of course I love you, Edmund. More than my own life!’

His face came up, displaying a whirling mix of hope and despair.

‘Then you will come with me?’

‘No! I cannot!’

‘But Ella, my love… I… I do not understand. If you love me, if you really, truly love me…?’

Ella leaned her head against the fence. She didn’t seem to have the strength to hold it up anymore. The wind tugged at her hair, pulling a few loose strands through the iron poles and onto Edmund’s side of the fence, as if everything in her was straining to go to him.

How come the weather is so bloody romantic? Why isn’t it raining buckets out here?

‘Edmund… I cannot find the words to answer you. But I do not have to. The poet has already given me my lines, which I tell to you now: Yes, I do love you. Desperately, with all my heart. But I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.’[41]

Behind the bushes I cocked my head, trying to find the logic in her last statement. I thought it was pretty darn daft, myself. Somebody had written that down, and been published? I would never fall in love myself, of course, but if I did, I didn’t think honour would enter into the equation in any major way. Honour, respectability - they were mostly nicely sounding terms for means of curtailing a girl’s freedom. Really, I loved my little sister, but sometimes she really could be a silly goose. She should just say yes to the fellow and-

Hey! What are you doing? You’re supposed to not want her to run away with him.

Oh, right. No! I definitely didn’t want that!

‘Don’t you see?’ She reached out to tenderly touch the hair of the broken man kneeling in front of her. ‘I’d rather cherish my love for you as a tender, secret memory, than do what I know to be wrong. Yes, I could go with you now and spend the rest of my days in bliss, but where would be the good in that? Far better that I marry Sir Philip, knowing that I have done right, preserving the honour of my family and of yours, than that I destroy them for earthly happiness. I might spend the rest of my days in misery, but at least I will do so with a clear conscience.’

Um… All right…