Henry's Confession
No one noticed the vial. As soon as Ella got back to her parents’ house, she went up to her room--which was on the second floor now, not the attic--and promptly took it out and hid it. She was expecting a phone call from Bart to explain what it was and what she was supposed to do with it, but she didn’t even know for sure that it was Bart who had handed it to her.
She sat through an uncomfortable dinner with her father, stepmother, Anna, Drew, and Henry where hardly anyone said a word, and her stepsisters spent most of the time sobbing, as if they had lost their best friend. If they had any idea what Tim truly thought of them, perhaps they wouldn’t be so teary eyed. Ella said next to nothing, though. A few times, Teressa almost slipped up and said something rude to her about how she was eating, since that had been her routine every night before her father had returned home. She caught herself each time and tried to turn it into a compliment. “Stop picking at your food, Ella! No wonder you’re so… beautiful and thin,” for example, or, “Sit up straight, Ella! You don’t want to have a curvature in… that elegant spine of yours.” Both comments were followed by a nervous giggle.
Henry looked annoyed each time. Her father hardly seemed to notice. He was preoccupied, likely trying to think of new ways to ruin her life.
Dinner was almost over when his phone rang. He excused himself and walked out of the dining room. Teresa was annoyed that he’d left dinner to answer the phone, but Ella imagined it had to be important for him to take it.
When he came back a few moments later, he sat down and proclaimed, “That was the lawyer. The annulment is final.” He wore a smug smile on his face. Ella refused to let him see her cry, but she felt as if someone had taken a knife and shoved it into her heart. How could her father say he loved her and then do something like this?
He wasn’t finished, though. “That means, as soon as we return to France, you and Henry can marry, Ella. Won’t that be lovely?”
She didn’t even look at either of them. Her stepsisters perked up at the idea of going to France, and Teresa started audibly planning her wedding, but Ella knew if she pulled her eyes off of the spot on the wall that she’d been staring at, she’d lose the battle with her tears.
If going to France with her father meant that she had to marry Henry, that meant she couldn’t go with him. She’d have to find a way to get out of there and find her own way to Europe--but not to France. To Italy, where she assumed Rome already was.
Asking to be excused from the table would do her no good, so she stayed there until everyone else was finished. With a heaviness she couldn’t describe clinging to every part of her body, she began to walk back up the stairs.
In the parlor, near the staircase, Henry was waiting for her. “Might we have a word?” He gestured to the secluded library off of the stairwell.
Ella wanted to tell him no, to leave her alone, but she was hopeful he was still thinking clearly about all of this and was about to tell her he wanted out of the arrangement. She nodded and followed him into the room.
He gestured for her to join him on the couch, as if it were his house and not hers, but Ella didn’t care. She sat down, keeping a decent amount of space between them.
“Ella, I know this is all sudden, and you’re quite unhappy about the situation with Mr. Verona.”
She raised an eyebrow, not sure what he expected her to say. So she said nothing.
“I just want you to know, I find you intoxicating, Ella. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met, and though it’s not what you had planned, not what you had in mind at all, I believe we shall be very happy together.”
Realizing he was just as insane as the others, and that he wasn’t about to tell her that he wanted out of the agreement, Ella gaped at him for a moment and then asked, “Are you serious? You’d actually consider marrying a woman who doesn’t want to marry you? Someone who’s in love with another man?”
Henry shrugged. “Not just any woman, Ella, but you. Besides, I assume you’ll get over Rome eventually. It’s only a matter of time until he’s convicted of murder and sent to prison.”
“He won’t be convicted of murder, Henry, because he didn’t murder anyone. His father will make sure he doesn’t serve time. And… even if he were, he’ll always be my husband. I swore to that when I married him.” She had to be careful what she said. The last thing she needed was to say something that tipped him off that she knew where Rome’s parents were taking him.
He scooted closer to her, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Ella, darling, I don’t expect you to be able to handle this just yet. But you will. And we will be happy. Just give me a chance, please.”
Ella stood, no longer willing to play his games or her father’s. “You can go to hell, Henry of Paris.” She stormed out of the room, headed upstairs, praying she could get ahold of Bart and figure out what that vial was because even if it was a concoction brought into existence from the devil himself, she would drink it to end this nightmare.
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