Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (17 page)

As she inhaled the soothing nocturnal air, anxious to gossip with Ella about any and all details of the Baroness Delancelle’s party, Marion reflected on the mysterious workings of the God she had been so willing to dismiss fifteen years earlier. For a God who demanded forgiveness, meekness, and a contrite heart, he had an uncanny way of delivering the fruits of redemption without the devastating verdict that came with revenge. Marion had been able to glean such mercy when she met a mischievous little girl named Ella Delaquix and her generous, fun-loving parents. The reintroduction of love and kindness into her life rekindled the joy Marion thought was dead and eventually renewed her hope. She was soon able to relinquish the bitterness of having lost her husband, her son, and even her dignity to her former employers. Though she did not know it at the time, it was Ella that had taught Marion that hope and revenge could never coexist.

Ella was like Marion’s second child. She loved her that much. Ella could never replace her son; she could only compliment the sweetness of his lingering spirit.

“It is cold out here,” the man’s voice came from behind Marion, “are you sure you don’t want to wait inside?”

Marion was startled by Frome’s gentle voice. She turned to see the old man standing in the doorway to the terrace and wondered what mean little crack he was going to make to his favorite sparring partner. But Frome’s face displayed nothing but sincere concern.

“That is very sweet of you, Frome,” Marion replied, “but I am too anxious for Ella to get home.”

“You can hear the carriage on the road just as easily from inside here, you know,” Frome said, meandering toward her. “Then you won’t catch your death.”

Marion smiled and gave a tiny laugh. She said nothing and continued to watch the courtyard.

“You do good work,” Frome said without warning. Marion was stunned.

“What?”

“With Ella. You’ve done well with her. She is a choice young woman.”

Marion was unsure how to respond. She knew she should be touched by his compliment, but her shock still stultified her ability to speak. She attempted to thank him, but just stuttered.

“Just say thank you,” said Frome. “I know you don’t want credit for raising her cause you’re not her mum and all. I know. Still, just say thank you.”

Marion pulled the wool shawl tighter around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she muttered. Sheepishly.

When was he going to say something?

Ella was sick to her stomach. Gabriel was sitting across from her in the carriage, facing forward but never meeting her eyes. It was like he wanted to look right through her. If she had done something to upset him, Ella wondered what it was that could have been so terrible to merit his complete withdrawal. She had not known Gabriel for long, but still had observed enough to know that he could not keep his angst and disapproval a secret.

But now he was a statue; his eyes deep and forlorn and his body unyieldingly staunch. Ella had opened her mouth to address him several times, but each time abandoned the effort. At times, she was too disappointed in herself, positive that nothing she said could make amends. Other times, she was too nervous that she might spark anger in Gabriel like awaking a sleeping beast. Mostly, she was downright perturbed that he was acting in such a childish way. All she’d done was duck out of a torturously boring party to have a few moments of freedom with some hilarious and intelligent individuals. What crime had she committed?

As the carriage approached the final drive toward home, Ella elected to remain silent and simply retire for the night with the hope that Gabriel would be willing to speak with her like an adult. Without warning, Gabriel leaned out of the open window and hollered out to the driver.

“Stop here for a moment, please!”

“Why are we stopping?” Ella asked, fretful. She wondered at what point she could make a safe getaway from a moving carriage. The driver shouted for the horses to slow and within several seconds the coach was at a complete stop.

“Gabriel,” Ella exclaimed, “why are we stopping? You haven’t spoken since we left the party. Stop playing games with me!”

“This is no game, Ella,” Gabriel said, rougher than she had anticipated. “I told you that from the beginning.”

“Is this about my skipping out of the ballroom? Why was that so unforgivable of me? And if it is because I accidentally called you by your real name, let me assure you that —“

“Thurlow was there tonight, Ella.”

Her words screeched to a halt, tagging her pulse, which began racing. “He was?” she asked, her voice saturated in fear. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you now.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“Yes. He believed me to be your Uncle Peter.”

“He did not recognize you?”

Gabriel didn’t respond. He wanted to be confident when he answered Ella but how was such certainty possible? For all Gabriel knew, Thurlow, Isolda and every other person there that night knew the truth and were all engaged in as maniacal and covert a scheme as he was.

“I don’t think so, Ella,” Gabriel replied, tepidly. “He spoke to me as your uncle and tried to threaten me as Peter.”

“What do you mean he tried to threaten you?”

“He wanted my consent for your hand in marriage. When I did not give it to him right then and there, he threatened to expose my—
Peter’s
—past indiscretions.”

Ella’s breathing became heavier. She did not know what to make of Gabriel’s declaration. How would things have been different if she had not left the ballroom that evening? Would she and Gabriel have had to speak with Thurlow together, as uncle and niece? Ella questioned to herself how three such opposing forces could dwell in the same place at the same time and not bring about the calamity of the natural earth.

“Ella?” Gabriel interrupted her stream of mad thought. “Did you hear what I said to you?”

“Yes, of course I heard you! What does that mean? What did you tell him?”

“He believes I have every intention of complying with his ‘suggestions.’”

“What are his suggestions?”

“Nothing more than giving my irrelevant blessing for your betrothal.”

“Irrelevant?”

“Let’s be honest. He doesn’t need my or anyone’s blessing.”

Ella looked down into her lap. “Even mine,” she said morosely. “So what does that mean for us now, Gabriel?”

Gabriel looked out the carriage window and watched as a chilly breeze ruffled several leaves from a branch high above them. It astounded Gabriel how even the simplest of forces could displace those things that were much stronger by birth but had grown brittle from time and submission to the elements of life. Was that same phenomenon happening to him? Were the elements that surrounded him causing him to lose focus on what he’d set out for in the beginning? His commitment to avenging Benjamin had become the very roots of his existence. Why did it feel like he was about to collapse by nothing more than a fragile gust of wind?

Ella said his name a second time and he tried to formulate in his mind the perfect answer to pacify her fear. But he could not do it fast enough and Ella spoke what was just another surge to the formidable storm within his core.

“You want me to go to him, don’t you?” said Ella.

“What?!”

“Thurlow. You want me to pretend that I favor him. You want me to lead him on.”

Gabriel felt the feeble walls of the carriage car closing in on him. If she truly believed—if he had ever made her think for a second that he would sell her out, even in falsehood, to the likes of Wilhelm Thurlow DeGent, he had already begun collapsing and didn’t even know it.

“Ella,” Gabriel replied gutturally, remaining unmoved but capturing her eyes with his own and sending a chill through her bones, “listen to me very carefully. I will never let that man think for even a moment that he has won you; that I will allow him to take you as his wife or his mistress or in any form his sick, demented mind can conjure. He will never harm you, he will never touch you. Do you understand me?”

Ella was trembling too violently to speak.

“Do you trust me?!” Gabriel nearly shouted, his voice frighteningly powerful.

She believed him and felt more fearful than ever. She had no choice but to answer him.

“Yes.”

Gabriel did not go inside the house with Ella. Instead he walked the estate grounds alone. Ella pled with him to accompany her inside to eat and rest. But he could not, even as much as he longed to ease her distress. She was worried about him; he could see it in her eyes. It gave him fleeting comfort but the only thing that relieved Gabriel’s intense anger was the crisp air and the glowing moonlight. Even still, his nerves were restless and he cursed himself over and over for not obeying his instinct and just dispatching Thurlow when he’d had the chance, in front of all the bystanders who worshipped the ground he walked on.

Even more, as difficult it was for Gabriel to admit, he cursed Ella. What was that woman doing to him? Of course, Gabriel had cared for her in the beginning, just as he would for any human being that by all indications seemed a decent person and willing to sacrifice for a soul in need, especially if that soul was his. He never wanted Thurlow to hurt Ella; it had infuriated him the times he witnessed the bastard accosting Ella and blatantly ignoring her pleas for him to leave her alone. But now… For God’s sake, he cared for her! Deeply! Why couldn’t that be sufficient for his peace of mind? He could in good conscience offer nothing more.

It was no longer enough. Gabriel could hardly draw breath without picturing Ella in his mind. When he slept, he would imagine her beside him and a burning ache befell his body. He loathed her for doing this to him. He loathed himself for enjoying it.

Gabriel heard a horse grunt and men’s voices in the distance. He looked toward the clamor and saw three men on horseback at the end of the drive, watching him closely. Gabriel had sensed he and Ella were being followed on the way home from the Delancelle mansion. His hostility grew and he looked toward the farmhouse. It would only take him a moment to prep Seely for a ride. Gabriel knew he would be able to catch up with the three riders: Thurlow’s spies. Ever since he’d been a small boy, Gabriel had been an exceptional rider. He and Benjamin would race daily and when the younger brother eventually out-rode the older, it was the greatest accomplishment Gabriel had ever experienced. Overtaking the three spies would be no great feat.

Gabriel made his way swiftly toward the farmhouse. As he began to lift the wooden log that secured the large barn doors, he turned back and saw that the three riders had vanished. Gabriel stood in place, the wooden log still partially lifted, and debated whether or not to go after them. What would he do when he caught up to them? Gabriel was strong and sufficiently imbued with seething adrenaline, but three to one would prove quite trying. Still…he could do it. He wanted to do it.

Before he could make a decision either way, he heard movement from behind a large tree directly in the center of the pathway between the house and barn. Gabriel squinted and, even with the night sky, could make out the silhouette of a man against the moonlight. Gabriel released the log and sprinted the thirty yards toward the intruder. When he reached the large tree, the trespasser made no attempt to flee. Gabriel grabbed him by his jacket collar and threw the man violently to the ground. Gabriel saw Thurlow’s face on the trespasser; he saw him running a sword through Benjamin’s heart. He saw him weeping to the King that he’d had no choice but to kill his friend in the name of honor and duty. He saw Thurlow pointing at the young brother of his victim and swearing that the two brothers were acting together to commit high treason and regicide.

Gabriel saw Thurlow pushing Ella toward a stone wall and trapping her in place so that she had no choice but to watch his dark eyes lust after her like a snake to a mouse.

The man cried out as Gabriel struck him in the chin and nose several times. The stranger was not putting up a fight, but simply trying to shield himself from the merciless blows of a man much taller and obviously possessed by some demon.

“Please, stop!” the man cried out. “I mean you no harm. I am here to see Marguerite. Please, get Marguerite!”