*~*~**~*~*
Regretfully, I put my book aside. It had been a really interesting colonial adventure story, and I had just gotten to the best part - the bit where the hero is tied to a stake and the natives prepare to cook and then eat him alive. But I told myself he was sure to be rescued soon, and then a wonderful story would be ruined. Better to stop now and enjoy the drama that was beginning to unfold in front of me.
Edmund had appeared on the other side of the fence. He didn’t look very well: his face was pale, his hair unkempt, and his shirt and waistcoat had seen better days. My gaze drifted to Ella, only to observe that she was in no better condition. Her blonde hair was hanging in wild tangles down her back, and her dress had obviously been put on in a hurry. Of course she still looked innocent as the new day and stunningly beautiful, but then, she was Ella.
I settled into a comfortable theatre seat provided by a patch of moss from which I could see everything through a gap in the brush. This performance was going to be pivotal for my further plans. On it would hinge everything I would try to do to further Ella’s hopes and dreams and smash Sir Philip into smithereens!
The two of them stood on either side of the fence for a long while, simply staring at each other with desperate longing, trying to bridge the distance between them with their gazes. Or at least I figured that’s what they were doing. With the moon having disappeared behind clouds, it was pretty dark in the garden, so I couldn’t actually be sure about the staring-at-each-other-with-desperate-longing part. They might just have fallen asleep standing.
‘Ella, my love,’ Edmund said in a raw voice.
Ah. Not asleep. So I had been right. And if that wasn’t desperate longing in his voice, I didn’t know what desperate longing was.
‘Edmund, my love,’ my little sister whispered. Apparently, she was very much awake as well.
‘How do things stand?’ he demanded.
When Ella said nothing in response, he pushed on: ‘What is the matter? Why do you not speak? Why do you not step closer to me? Speak, my love! I can no longer live without the sweet honey of your voice sustaining me!’
I suppressed an urge to gag.
How would you like the honey of my fist in your face, fellow?
But his mushy-gushy mush seemed to hit the spot with Ella. She opened her mouth and took a breath, preparing to speak.
‘I… I danced three times with Sir Philip,’ she answered timidly. I noticed she didn’t step closer to the fence, made no move at all to approach her beloved with the messy hair.
‘Only three times during the entire evening? When he is supposedly courting you?’ Edmund’s face brightened. I thought dancing three times with the same person was quite a lot, but I didn’t doubt if he had the chance, he’d spent the entire evening glued to her. ‘Oh Ella, you give me hope. Tell me, has he lost interest in you, the fool? Has he withdrawn his affections?’
My sister gave a little shake of the head.
‘No.’
‘Then why on earth would he not…’
‘It is my dear sister.’ Dang! She’s talking about me! ‘My dear, dear sister who protects me. It is amazing. Though she knows not a thing of how things truly stand, of where my affections truly lie, she instinctively seems to be able to sense somehow that I do not welcome his attentions. Not just tonight at the ball - whenever he comes, she is there, between him and me, helping me, protecting me. Sometimes I ask myself whether she is clairvoyant, so clearly can she read what I feel. It is as if she could hear every secret word I speak to you!’
Um… Well, about that…
Deeply moved, Edmund nodded. ‘I have heard of this - a strong emotional bond between siblings who cherish for one another the deepest affection can have such remarkable effects. She must be a remarkable girl. I wish I could meet her someday.’
No problem. Just come around the bush and wave.
Ella shook her head vigorously. ‘You cannot! Remember, she must never know of us.’
‘You’re right. She must never know.’
I rolled my eyes. Really? Gosh…
There was a pause. Then Edmund added: ‘But we have strayed away from the heart of the matter, dearest.’
Ella’s lower lip began to quiver.
‘Which is?’
‘Sir Philip Wilkins still pursues you.’
‘Oh, cruel, cruel Edmund! How can you remind me?’
Edmund reached through the poles to squeeze her hands, and she immediately ceased her lamentations.
‘I must remind you,’ he persisted in a gentle tone of voice. ‘I must, because we must form plans and find an escape, find some way to forge a future for ourselves.’
Her eyes tearing up again, Ella suddenly stumbled forward and sagged against the fence.