Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (13 page)

The dinner went by swiftly for Ella. It had lasted over an hour and yet she remembered little of it. Perhaps it was because no more than three words had been spoken to her the entire time. Gabriel, who was now Peter, the Duke of Ebersol, held his audience in awe.

He regaled them with tales of his business ventures in Paris and lands farther east than any Ella had heard of. He amused them with witty anecdotes and social commentaries and then, when the listeners were riveting in suspense, he was able to move them to tears with a narrative on redemption and the need to reconnect with his roots. He had looked over to Ella when he spoke of family and his convincibility gave even her chills.

As Peter went on, hardly having a moment to consume his venison and fine wine, Ella took in the landscape. There were more than twenty people sitting at the great table, all comprising six different families. Ella would have never imagined it possible to accommodate so many even after she had seen her parents throw lavish parties that trumped even that. It was ironic to Ella that rooms would be functioning in her home that very evening that had not been utilized in years. When she saw how glorious an event her meager staff had been able to create, she felt a tinge of guilt that she had not given them any chances to do so in the time she’d been the mistress of the estate.

Ella knew most of the guests at her dinner table. Several of the young adults had not been of proper age to attend the parties that Ella’s parents had thrown and she did not recognize them. None of the families had refused her invitations and Ella wondered if it had more to do with their curiosity at what the young mistress was capable of by way of entertainment or because it promised to deliver a new specimen to their social zoo, a duke no less. Of course it was the latter reason, Ella knew. And why wouldn’t it be? Peter was the son of a duke and duchess. He was young enough to be eligible for a maiden’s hand in marriage yet old enough to bear the experiences of life and have wisdom and money to show for it. What’s more, Peter was a feast for the eyes. Ella had not thought him, Gabriel, handsome when she first met him. He’d been dirty, unshaven and holding her against her will. But with time, and his miraculous transformation, she could not help but be enamored with his physicality. Prince Leopold had been the standard of male perfection set in Gwent for the last few years and he remained so, as far as Ella was concerned. But it didn’t change Gabriel’s immense magnetism. He did not have the face of a prince. He was not dashing nor was he elegant. He was simply striking; most of it due to his intoxicating blue eyes.

“Ella!”

Ella didn’t realize she was daydreaming until the shrill voice of her cousin Aislinn resonated off of the silver goblets and rattled in Ella’s ear. She looked up and saw all eyes were on her, including Gabriel’s.

“I’m sorry,” Ella said, embarrassed, “what was it you said?”

“I asked you if seeing your uncle for the first time in so many years caused you to reevaluate your own place in high society,” Isolda said smugly, baffling Ella who had expected it was Aislinn who’d addressed her initially.

Ella should have known only her dutiful aunt would bother to single her out at such an occasion. No one else there gave a lick about Ella’s opinion or the possibility of her change of heart. Interestingly enough, Isolda did not care either. At least not in the way she pretended. The only reason she ever concerned herself with her niece was if it served her own vanity or her justification for despising her.

Or when she had an opportunity to draw attention to Ella’s social defects.

“Well, I have always believed each new day brought with it the opportunity, even the responsibility, to reflect on life and our place in it,” Ella announced, looking directly at her aunt. “My uncle’s triumphant return was indeed another excuse to reevaluate that which is truly important.”

The guests appeared pleased but Isolda’s eyes all but filled with fire at Ella’s response. Even more infuriating to Isolda was that Ella wasn’t even seeing it; she was smiling at the other diners, particularly the guest of honor.

Peter looked to be pleased with his niece’s words and went into another commentary on the importance of seeing each day as a gift, living life to the fullest, and…. Ella knew if she listened too carefully to Peter’s much rehearsed, bombastic diatribe, she might become sick and opted instead to focus on the dessert plate that had just been set before her.

The dresses that skimmed the newly buffed ballroom floor that evening did not fail to astound Ella. Her own dress was simple but elegant. Made of black velvet, the bodice boasted a square neckline with silver trim along the top and at her waist. Her sleeves were full until they reached her elbow where they split and fell to the side, revealing a bright red satin lining. Her skirt was also split down the center from her naval and opened up to more of the red lining. It had been one of Ella’s favorites for years, but she felt as though it paled in comparison to the others, especially Aislinn’s.

Aislinn’s gown was royal blue with a similar style to Ella’s. But where Ella’s dress bore no design or print, Aislinn’s bodice was adorned with gold ribbon and a floral print. It was quite breathtaking, Ella felt, and she wondered if Bethany, whose off-white ensemble was simplistic in its elegance, would agree with her.

Ella made her way across the ballroom to Bethany, who stood by herself in the corner. Bethany had always preferred to be have her own space and Ella did not worry that her cousin, and friend, was feeling left out. Still, Bethany was almost always happy to see Ella. Their friendship had been bound in both blood and experience, as Bethany had also never been treated too well by Aislinn or even Isolda.

“Well, Aislinn certainly has done it again,” Ella said with a grin as she approached Bethany. “I can’t imagine she is very comfortable though.”

Bethany giggled.

“Of course not,” she contended, “how is one supposed to breath with their breasts crushed under a tiny tapestry of chrysanthemums?”

Ella laughed though she felt somewhat in the wrong for mocking Aislinn. Bethany looked back out on the crowd, ready to target another unsuspecting debutant for her witty retort. Instead, she saw her mother. Isolda looked at Bethany and Ella together and her face grew sullen. Bethany was still deeply upset about the argument she’d had with her mother days earlier. She did not know just how she was going to re-enter her good graces, but standing there conversing with Ella was not going to do it.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Bethany said abruptly, “but I just remembered I promised to visit with Baroness Eldon and her daughter. Please excuse me.”

It happened so quickly that Ella did not have a chance to respond. She watched Bethany walk away and felt as though she’d just been hit in the stomach. Bethany’s excuse to depart was more than acceptable, yet Ella had felt as surely as she’d ever felt anything that Bethany was particularly anxious to get away from her. Ella stayed where she was and continued watching the crowd from the solitude of what had previously been Bethany’s hideaway.

Isolda was pleased with Bethany’s display of obedience to her mother’s wishes. She scanned the room and saw Aislinn busy with another young maiden in a hideous orange frock and her idiot husband was mingling with another equally idiotic and adulterous baron. When she saw Peter across the way, calmly sipping a glass of wine while one of the female guests and her daughter yakked away in his ear, Isolda could not help but chuckle. She had met Peter once, many years earlier at the wedding of Thomas and Isabella. He had been only a teenager and of the most insatiable sort. The years had been good to him, even too good. Was it possible that a person could change so much from boy to man? He was hardly recognizable.

Isolda was beginning to regret not having given a young Peter more notice at the wedding than she had. But at the time she was engaged to be married to Henry Armitage. Isabella, even at her own wedding celebration, was very mindful of her little brother. Isolda had no choice but to notice the attention that Isabella was paying to every person with whom the young Peter conversed.

Peter looked nothing like his niece. That was not shocking to Isolda, as many people bore little or no resemblance to their family members. Ella, for example, carried few physical traits of her father. All Isolda could see when she looked upon the girl was the spitting image of Isabella. Why, Isolda wondered to herself, could she not resist looking at the man and trying to unearth something that might not have even been there? She decided to let Peter answer the question himself, indirectly though it may be.

When she reached him, the two blathering females were still going strong. Isolda could see that Peter was trying to stay politely focused on what they were going on about, but even she, a woman whose entire day was spent musing on the inane whims and nuances of her peers, knew he could bear no more.

“My dear sir,” Isolda said over the words of the younger woman, “I was wondering if I might speak with you a moment in private. It pertains to our mutual niece, ladies, and is therefore of utmost importance.” The older woman conceded, whether pleased or not Isolda did not know nor did she care, and pulled at the sleeve of her daughter. Both women walked away promptly.

Peter did not appear overly grateful for Isolda’s having rescued him from death by trite conversation. Still, she was pleased to have the private time with him.

“How are you this evening, Baroness?” Peter said kindly, taking Isolda’s gloved hand in his own and kissing it gently.

“Better now,” she replied sweetly, “for it has been almost intolerable to have a relative so close by and not be allowed to speak with him. We are family, you and I.”

“Indeed we are.”

“And I must say that it is such a relief to my senses to know that you are here now to restore order to this lovely estate. You have no idea how difficult it has been for me to sit back and watch inexperience gnaw away at the foundation my brother and your sister worked so hard to build.”

“Oh? Well, that is very kind of you to say, Baroness.”

“Call me Isolda.”

“Of course.”

“Do you not remember me?”

Gabriel looked into her eyes. “Of course I remember you. You were quite the loveliest of all maidens at the wedding of Thomas and Isabella. If I had been only a few years older, perhaps I would have asked you to dance.”

“But didn’t you ask me?” Isabella said with a flirtatious giggle. Peter smiled in return but remained completely unmoved by her silliness.

“No, Isolda,” he said, “you know it would have been quite unacceptable for me to have asked you to dance. You were already engaged.”

To Henry Armitage, Isolda thought to herself, a man hardly worth anything.

“Well, then” Isolda said, “you must promise to dance with me sometime tonight and all will be forgiven.”

“It would be my great pleasure,” Peter said, taking Isolda’s hand for the second time and kissing it. As he did so, he glanced up and saw Ella watching him from the farthest corner of the room.

Peter made no reaction to her look of puzzlement and even sadness. It was not his job to cater to the insecurities of his long lost niece. Gabriel, on the other hand, hated that Ella was displeased. She had facilitated a perfect evening at great time and expense for the sole purpose of helping a man she knew so very little about. Part of him wanted to go to her right then and express his gratitude to her. But that is not what Peter would have done, and so Gabriel could not. Peter, the man Marion had carefully described, was a man of many words and little integrity. He used people without a second thought and, as Gabriel learned, had no problem exploiting women in his fraudulence. With all of that, Marion seemed to pity the man somewhat. Gabriel could not waste the time to do likewise. Few if any of the guests that evening knew anything about Peter, so Gabriel might have been free to create the facade exactly as he desired. But he could not take the chance that someone there knew the real Peter. So Gabriel remained where he was, holding the hand of a woman whose disdain for their “mutual niece” was written all over her face. What was he to do then? How valuable was Isolda’s role in Queen Arabella’s societal network? Was it essential for Gabriel (or Peter for that matter) to cater to the compulsions of a woman who reviled the one person who had so far been his only champion?