Chapter 19
Helena was hunched over her desk, quill in hand, mind fixed firmly on the task at hand: writing.
That was how it always was with her. When she was feeling confused. When she was conflicted. When she was sad. When she was happy. Whenever she needed to work through her feelings or simply revel in a good day, she would sit down at her desk and let the words flow.
It was a form of catharsis to her. More than that, it was the very essence of life. This was her purpose, and she was grateful that even in this marriage, she was still afforded the freedom to do the one thing that made her feel whole.
At least that was the point.
What is going on? What is wrong with me? The words are there, banging about in my brain, but they refuse to reach the tip of my quill! What is happening?!
She had been at it for an hour, and not so much as a single word was written. Perhaps not the first time this had happened, but certainly the first time that, despite how hard she focused and determined she became, she knew that nothing would change and that the page would remain blank.
It was as if there was a wall between her quill and the page. A refusal to let the words flow. She furrowed her brow. She gritted her teeth. She pressed the quill to the page and… nothing.
“Urgh!” she cried out and threw her hands up in the air. “Write! Something! Anything!”
To make matters worse, Helena knew the reason that she could not put words on the page. But that only made it more troublesome, more confusing, because it should have been the opposite.
Try as she might, she could not stop thinking about Sebastian.
That was why she had sat down tonight, determined to scrawl her thoughts and feelings onto the page so that she might sort through them. In her head, they were muddled and tangled, but laid out before her, she might be able to see through the mess and find an answer.
Frustratingly, no answer was forthcoming. Nor would it be.
She could not stop picturing Sebastian in her head.
The way he treated those children. How honest he had been with her, how damn caring he was, and how sincere he was in his desire to help those children.
And not because he thought it was the right thing to do or because he was trying to score political points.
But because he wanted to help them and give them a better life.
A smile curved her lips as she imagined the children pulling and pawing at him. His laughter as he scooped one of them up. The love in his eyes and his voice. He was so real, so in earnest, and the fact that he did not care how he looked told her just how true his heart was.
She felt it in her own heart. It swelled inside her chest such that it hurt.
Her body was warm, not from the fire that burned behind her, but from the way she felt when she thought of him, how he had looked at her when she had been with the children.
Again, the adoration and the love, a sense that he was starting to see her in a different light than when they had first married.
It should have brought Helena joy, but she found misery in its place.
All her life, she had thought of marriage as a cage. A trap. A trick that one was not told of until they had been fooled into accepting it and could no longer find a way out. And yes, Sebastian was different, for he let her do as she wanted, and there was no suggestion that would change.
But what if he does? What if it’s all a lie? What if I give in, only to find myself in the very prison I have spent so long avoiding?
That she could not write was further proof of this fear. This was the one thing she was good at—that she was born to do. But as soon as she began to think about the possibility of developing feelings for someone else, her quill ran dry.
It was as if her conscience was warning her against pursuing this path. As if it knew the dangers and was trying to scare her away. And what if she did not listen? Would she never write again? Was that to be her choice? Marriage or writing? Love or following her dreams?
She tried a final time, forcing her quill to move across the parchment. But nothing was written, just a stiff line, and she cried out and flung the quill across the room.
“Writer’s block?” Sebastian’s deep voice spoke from behind her.
She yelped and twisted around, her eyes widening and panic ripping through her to find him standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the frame, wearing an amused smirk as his blue eyes glistened in the firelight.
“Ah… you probably should not have seen that.” She grimaced, looking away because whenever she looked at him, she would remember how he was with the children, and her cheeks would flush.
He laughed. “I am sure the quill had it coming.”
She laughed softly. “Call it a writer’s technique. When in doubt, fling your quill across the room and hope that it shatters something loose.”
“Did it?”
“Not this time…”
He did not speak right away, simply watched her. She had her head bowed, refusing to meet his eyes, her pulse racing such that her limbs began to tremble.
It was so frustrating to her, the power that simple stare had over her. How it undid her. How powerless she felt under its penetration.
“I was just about to turn in for the night,” he said finally, still leaning against the doorframe. “But I wished to speak with you first.”
“You did?” She swallowed.
“You impressed me today,” he continued. “Truly, these last two days in fact…” He laughed softly. “I was not certain you had it in you.”
She shrugged. “It is not such a big deal.”
“It is.” His tone turned serious. “I do not think you understand how much it means to the children, Helena. Just as I do not think you understand how rare it is for someone from our class to treat them like that. As if they are more than what they believe themselves to be.”
She frowned, still not looking at him. “They are children.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Sadly, most don’t see them like that. They see them as an imposition, easier to ignore than give them time of day. But you…” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile. “You see them like few do. It really is something.”
Helena could not stop herself from beaming. To hear him compliment her… it felt better than it should have.
She was not doing this because she wanted to please her husband. But the fact that he saw her, and that he was so impressed, meant more to her than she cared to admit.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“He likes you too, you know,” he said.
At that, her head snapped up. Brow furrowed, she looked curiously at her husband. “Who?”
His smile grew to show his teeth. “Daniel, of course. He is usually so shy and so careful around strangers. But you…” He shrugged. “He is taken with you.”
“As I am with him.”
“As I said…” His white teeth shone in the light. “You see them.”
He held the smile a little longer, and she felt his pull so acutely that she wanted to stand up and go to him.
“Good night,” he said, breaking the trance.
“G—good night,” she stammered, giving her head a shake to break the spell. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“I sure hope so.”
He then left her sitting there alone, even more confused than she had been.
Helena gave her entire body a shake and turned back to the desk, determined to put their exchange out of her mind and write something. Just to prove that she could!
Typically, no words came, and all she could do was sit there and think about Sebastian and what he had said. More than that, how he had made her feel when saying it.
She was so determined not to feel anything for him. So darn sure that it was dangerous, and she would be smart to avoid him. But as she stared at the blank page, as she considered his words, and she remembered that smile, she began to wonder.
Would it be such a bad thing, after all? Why am I so insistent on fighting this?
She did not have an answer to that question. What she did have was a feeling, the sense that everything she thought she had ever known was a lie. That quite possibly, and if she considered it, marriage might not be the awful trap she had convinced herself it was.
And if that was the case…
Helena allowed a smile to cross her lips. And for once, she didn’t feel ashamed of the fact.