Chapter 21 #2
"There he is.” She found herself pointing to Lord Blackwood, her tone oddly exuberant. His back was to them, and that was for the best. “He’s just there,” she added. “The tallest of the three men.”
Clarissa nodded but made no move to keep walking. Was Estella expected to walk her over and make the introduction herself? A wave of hysterical laughter threatened. But this was not amusing. Not even a little.
Clarissa turned to her, eyes still wide with apprehension. “I see my brother is here as well. Or rather, my half brother. He’s my— It does not matter. But I should greet him first, I think. And then—” Her eyes darted over toward Sebastian. “Then I shall speak with Lord Blackwood.”
Estella nodded amiably. At least, she hoped this frozen smile and bobbing of her head seemed amiable. After all, it wasn’t this young lady’s fault that she’d been a fool.
“Excellent,” she said. What was excellent? She was not sure. But then, because her voice seemed to be wavering dangerously, she added brightly, “If you’ll excuse me, I've just remembered. I need to speak with the duchess about… something.”
It was the best excuse she could think of, considering her brain had stopped thinking.
Clarissa smiled. "Yes, of course. Thank you. For your guidance, but also for your reassurances about Lord Blackwood’s character. I feel much less frightened now. I do hope we’ll see each other again."
Estella’s smile would most definitely split her face in two. Her cheeks hurt, and her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she still managed a parting, "I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon."
And often. Because Clarissa would be at every event, on Sebastian's arm, in Sebastian's home, in Sebastian's life. And Estella would smile and curtsy and pretend that her chest wasn't caving in every time she saw them together, because that was what she did.
She made the best of her situation. She did what was needed to survive and take care of her family.
It was that thought she clung to as she aimed her feet in the opposite direction of Lord Blackwood and his new fiancée.
She found the duchess near the refreshment table. The duchess took one look at her face and her expression shifted from social pleasantry to something sharp and focused. "What is it?"
"I'm not feeling well," Estella said. "Might I use your carriage?"
The duchess opened her mouth, but whatever she saw in Estella's face stopped her. She simply nodded and summoned a footman.
In the carriage, Estella sat very still with her hands clasped in her lap.
Tell me something true.
The carriage did not take her to the duchess's townhouse. She'd given the driver a different address. She'd go back to the place that needed her. The place where she was not a project or a problem to be solved.
The place where she was loved.
The Hale townhouse was dark and quiet. When a confused maid appeared, Estella heard her own voice requesting that a message be sent to the duchess's home so she did not worry. The maid nodded and hurried off.
She made it to the drawing room and stood beside the cold fireplace. She smoothed her pretty new gown and clasped her hands and held very, very still.
She'd stood like this at Andrew's funeral, she recalled. Holding herself together by sheer force of will because if she let even one crack form, the whole structure would come down.
But this time the thing she was holding together wasn't her family. It was her heart.
She'd been so sure. She'd followed the duchess's advice. She'd watched his actions instead of listening to his words, and every single thing she'd seen had told her the same story.
She'd interpreted all of it as love, because she'd wanted it to be love. And that wanting had blinded her as thoroughly as Fairchild's charm ever had. She'd done the exact thing the duchess had warned her about, only in reverse.
A creak on the stairs. "Estella?"
Charlotte stood in the doorway in her nightgown, her hair a tangle of fair curls, her feet bare on the wooden floor.
"Why are you home?" Charlotte padded into the room, squinting in the dim light. "Where did you come from? You look very pretty." She studied Estella's face with frank scrutiny. "What happened?"
Estella looked at her sister. "I made a mistake, Charlotte."
Her voice came out steady. Almost.
"What happened?" Charlotte crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Estella. "Did someone hurt you?"
Estella shook her head. "Not like that. It was me. I…I trusted someone I shouldn’t have."
"The duchess?"
"No. Myself." She cleared her throat and shook her head. Charlotte wouldn’t understand that. So she took a deep breath and moved them both so they were cuddled up on the armchair. "I made a silly mistake, that’s all."
Charlotte considered her. "Can the duchess help? Or Lord Blackwood? I’m sure he’d help if he could."
The sound that came out of her was somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she held her sister tight. "I’m sure they both would help me if they could. But this is a problem I have to sort out myself."
Charlotte stiffened, like she might argue. But with a sigh, she sank into Estella’s arms, seeming to understand that for now, Estella didn’t need to talk. She just needed a hug.
After a long while, Charlotte shifted so she could look up at her. "Is it Lord Blackwood?"
Estella's composure cracked. Just a fraction. Just enough for a single, treacherous tear to slip down her cheek before she caught it with the back of her hand.
"He's engaged," she said. "Or very nearly, at least. There's a woman. Lady Clarissa. She seems lovely."
Charlotte's small face hardened into an expression of such concentrated outrage that under any other circumstances, Estella would have laughed.
"He can't be," Charlotte said. "He's supposed to marry you."
"Charlotte—"
"He likes you. I could tell. When he brought me home in his carriage, I asked him why he didn't marry you, and he—" Charlotte stopped. Her brow furrowed.
"He what?"
"He didn't say no." Charlotte was working through the memory with visible effort. "He said 'it isn't that simple.' But he didn't say no, Estella."
Another tear escaped. Then another as Estella realized that Charlotte must have all but asked him to marry her. And then she'd come along and kissed him.
It was humiliating, really.
But right now her heart hurt too much for the humiliation to register. Estella pressed her fingers to her eyes and breathed. "It doesn't matter. He's made his choice."
Charlotte squeezed her tighter.
"I’ll be all right," Estella said after a long moment. The last thing she wanted was to worry her little sister. "I just made a mistake, that’s all. I should have stayed focused on the obvious choice. Like Lord Alderton. I should have remembered why I was doing all this."
There was a silence as Charlotte studied her.
"Estella," she said. "You always do everything for me and Papa." Her small hand found Estella's and squeezed. "When do you ever do something for yourself?"
Estella stilled. "This isn't about—"
"It is, though." Charlotte pulled further, studying Estella more intently. "You went after something you wanted. For you. Not for me, not for Papa. Just for you. And it didn't work out. But that doesn't mean you were wrong to want it."
Estella stared at her sister and for a moment she hardly recognized her. She frowned as she noticed how the little girl’s cheeks weren’t so round anymore, and how her eyes were filled with sharp intelligence. When had Charlotte become so mature?
She was still a little girl, but it seemed she’d been growing up when Estella hadn’t been looking.
"You're allowed to want things, Estella." Charlotte gave her a little squeeze. "You’re allowed to be happy."
The tears came properly then.
That was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be happy. Not just content or taken care of financially—but loved. And she’d so badly wanted someone she could love in return.
After a while, the tears stopped. Estella wiped her face with the back of her hand and drew a shaky breath.
"When did you get so clever?" she asked.
"I've always been clever." Charlotte pressed her cheek against Estella's arm. "You were just too busy managing everything to notice."
A watery laugh escaped her. She didn't know how she'd face Sebastian across a ballroom or smile at Clarissa or pretend that everything was fine. And she’d have to start over again with this dratted marriage mart.
But all that could wait until morning.
She gathered Charlotte against her side and eventually Charlotte's breathing slowed and steadied. The child was falling asleep, tucked in her arms. So…maybe she wasn't all that grown up yet, after all.
Estella stared at the cold fireplace and told herself that tomorrow she would be practical. She'd apologize to the duchess. She'd take a look at the eligible candidates with real interest. She'd make sensible decisions for her family, the way she always had.
She was Estella Hale, and she had survived worse than this.
But for tonight, she let herself miss Sebastian and the life they might have had.