would visit the garden at this hour, only one person she could have come to see.
As if my thinking of him had conjured him up, Edmund appeared from between the bushes on the other side of the fence. Ella gave a little cry and hurried towards him. She was already in her ball gown and not caring a bit if she got grass stains on it. I had to admit, this was real love. Or at least a very convincing imitation.
‘Ella, my love!’
‘Edmund, my love!’
They ran towards each other as if they wanted to jump into each other’s arms. Fortunately, they remembered the fence in time and didn’t crack their skulls.
Instead, they just clasped hands. A much wiser policy.
‘Oh, Ella, my love, is it true what I have heard?’
‘I don't know. What have you heard, my love?’
‘That there is to be another ball at Lady Metcalf’s this evening, and that Sir Wilkins is taking you. I heard something of that mentioned by Mrs Richardson, and now I hear that your house is busy…’
Busy. What a very diplomatic way to describe my aunt’s forceful tones.
‘Say it isn’t so, Ella, my love!’
‘Alas, I cannot, Edmund. For we are indeed invited to Lady Metcalf’s ball, which is tonight…’
‘And…?’
‘…and Sir Wilkins is taking us.’
‘Taking you, you mean to say.’
‘We will all go. I, Aunt, Gertrude, Lisbeth…’
Edmund’s eyes were aflame. ‘But it is you he wants there. You he wants with him!’
Ella shuddered, her hands slipping from his.
‘Don’t you think I know this?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you think I wish every waking moment it weren’t so? But I cannot wish him away!’
Edmund’s freed hands balled into fists. ‘Neither can I. I have tried often enough.’
‘But…’ Ella hesitated.
‘But what, Ella, my love?’
‘But maybe I can wish myself away.’
He looked confused. Ella hesitated again, then suddenly set her small chin and looked up at him.
‘Take me with you,’ she said, her voice trembling, her eyes two shining pleas. ‘I do not wish to go to this ball. I do not wish to dance with Sir Philip. I do not wish to be in any man’s arms but yours. Take me away from the place, just as you said you would.’
‘Tonight? Now? But Ella, the preparations…’
‘I don't care about preparations! I only care that I love you, and that I want to be with you. Take me away, Edmund, please!’
Edmund closed his eyes.
‘I am sorry, my love, but I cannot,’ he whispered. ‘I could not yet procure a marriage license. And I will not soil your honour by taking you without the knowledge that I can make you my wife, to love and to hold.’
There were tears in Ella’s eyes.
‘Then, it is adieu for us, Edmund. I shall go to the ball. You will procure a license as quickly as you can, I know that. Just… just don't take too long. And know that whatever might happen, my heart will always be yours.’
‘Whatever might happen?’ His eyes snapped open, hearing the weight of her words. ‘You don't mean to say that… Ella, you don't think Sir Philip will chose tonight to ask you to… oh, I cannot even say the words! Tell me, darling! Tell me that it will not be tonight!’
Ella remained silent. I had spent enough time around Mr Ambrose to be able to distinguish different kinds of silence. Hers was the silence of someone who wished to speak, but could not.
‘Ella!’ With both hands, Edmund reached through the bars, attempting to grasp her shoulders. But she retreated a step, out of his reach. ‘Ella, at least tell me that if he asks you tonight, you will not say yes! Please! I beg you!’
Ella’s tears were rivulets now, streaming down both her cheeks.
‘I… I cannot,’ she whispered.
‘Ella!’
‘G-goodbye, Edmund. Goodbye, my love.’
‘Ellaaa!’
His cry echoed through an empty garden.
*~*~**~*~*
On my way into the house I actually had to blow my nose. Had the scene in the garden moved me to tears? Or was I getting a cold? The latter possibility seemed much more likely to me.
I slipped quietly inside and made my way up to our room. As I entered, Ella, who was sitting in front of the mirror, jumped and tried to conceal her tear-stained face - until she saw it was me. Then she didn’t bother. Our eyes met, brown to blue. There was a silent agreement in hers, which, I was sure, was mirrored in mine. She didn’t ask where I had been all day, and I didn’t ask why tears were running down her