Page 68 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

She made a choked sound which seemed to encompass the entirety of her vocabulary now and so she could only nod. For she did like it, she loved it, yet she could never wear it. Like the beautiful mechanical bird in a cage he had given her, she would have to hide it away and then… then what?

She wanted to ask him when and how he expected her to wear this impossibly lavish gift? What was she supposed to infer from it? It must have cost… she did not know how much. A king’s ransom. It was the kind of present a rich man gave a wife or a mistress and she did not know what he was implying, but she was afraid. The question burned on her tongue, but she could not make herself speak it aloud, could not force herself to say anything that would change things between them because she did not want that. She wanted her friend and for things to stay as they were and… and she really was going to cry now. Then he would not think her pretty at all, for it would be ugly and awkward, and what on earth was she to do?

“Evie,” he said, his voice snapping her out of her spiralling thoughts. “Don’t look so frightened. I am asking nothing of you but to believe my words. You owe me nothing. This is my gift to you, because if I achieve nothing else in my life, I will make you realise your own worth, and you are priceless. Joyeux anniversaire, ma petite.”

She felt the touch of his fingers beneath her chin as he raised her face and bent to press his mouth to hers. His lips only brushed hers for a moment, barely a touch at all, and yet her heart thundered, and her skin flushed, and she wanted to run away from him as badly as she wanted to make him stay. He did not wait for her to find her tongue, to unravel the messy tangle of emotions that were knotting up inside her and making her head spin with confusion. Instead, he straightened and walked away without another word, closing the door behind him and leaving as silently as he’d arrived.

Evie sat staring at the door for a long time afterwards, and if not for the fortune in jewels sparkling in her lap, she might have thought the entire scene a peculiar waking dream.

Chapter 32

An Enchanting Dare

25th August 1841, Swan Hall, East Sussex.

Evie flopped back on the bed with a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been an age since you visited me,” she said, grinning at Aisling as she settled beside her. Evie turned onto her side, leaning her head on her hand, her eyes wide. “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

Aisling raised her eyebrows and did her best to look innocent. “I don’t know what you can mean?”

“Little liar,” Evie said with a smile. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand there are things you either can’t or don’t wish to share with other people.”

“Are there things you can’t share, Evie?” Aisling asked. Evie was always kind and understanding, but there was something in her words that made Aisling believe a similar dilemma troubled her friend.

“Of course. We all have our secrets, don’t we?” she said, making light of it with a smile.

“Certainly, but you know you could trust me with yours, Evie. I’d take any confidence you gave me to my grave, I swear it.”

Evie nodded. “I know that. I-I’m just in a bit of a muddle so it won’t make any sense and… Oh, ignore me. I’m talking nonsense and, besides, I asked first.”

Aisling laughed. “So you did, and perhaps if I tell you my secret, you will feel more confident in sharing your own, for you can trust me, I swear. Oh, Evie. I'm in love, and you’ll laugh your head off when you realise who it is.”

“Mr Sylvester Cootes, by any chance?” Evie murmured nonchalantly.

Aisling stared at her before snatching up a pillow. “Oh, you!” she exclaimed, batting Evie about the head with it.

Evie squealed and scrambled away, snatching up a weapon of her own and before long there were feathers flying. The two of them collapsed back on the bed, laughing and gasping and choking on the little fluffy tufts of down drifting in the air.

“I c-can’t believe it was so obvious,” Aisling grumbled, hugging her ill-used pillow.

“Darling, it was obvious from the start that he was besotted with you, and when Viv and I saw you together in April, we both felt it was inevitable.”

“Well, you and fate knew better than I did, but you were right, and… Oh, Evie, I’m glad. I said he was annoying and provoking, and he is, but in the best way. He won’t let me hide. He forces me to be myself and to be honest, and I cannot tell you how very liberating that is. I can say what I want and be as prickly and obnoxious as I like, and he still adores me.” She could hear the wonder in her own voice and longing to be with Sylvester swept over her, making her sick with wanting him.

“What is it like, being in love?” Evie asked, frowning.

Aisling rolled over to regard her friend, whose gaze was intent, and she saw it was no idle question.

“It’s lovely for the most part, but it hurts, too. I miss him dreadfully, and I worry he will never be able to offer for me. Not that I care how much money he has, but he does, and I want him to be happy, too. Half the time I’m wretched, the other half I’m walking on air. It’s all rather a muddle, I suppose, but I think if it were easy, it might not be so worth fighting for.”

Evie pondered this, staring down at the pretty embroidered counterpane covering the bed. It had been her nineteenth birthday present from Aisling. Blue silk roses climbed over a creamy lace trellis and Aisling had worked each one herself with painstaking attention to detail. The tiny caterpillar Aisling had hidden in one corner had delighted Evie, more so when she’d assured her friend that even beautiful things were imperfect and all the lovelier for it.

Now, Evie traced the petals of one of the larger flowers, her gaze remote. “Does it frighten you, to put your faith in him, to know he’ll be your husband forever? How can you trust him to be what you need, to be faithful to you?”

Aisling considered the question and considered Sylvester. “No one can see the future, Evie. But I believe I see Sylvester, see the man he is, the man he wishes to be, and don’t believe he would ever hurt me that way. I trust him because I love him, and part of loving is having faith, I suppose. I don’t think you can have one without the other. Does that help?”

“I’m not sure it does,” Evie said, laughing, though Aisling did not think she was joking. “Oh, never mind that. Though I am so happy for you, Aisling, but now… we have bigger things to think about.”

“Bigger things than the man I want to spend the rest of my life with?” Aisling said, affecting a dramatic voice and pressing her hand to her forehead like some Gothic heroine falling into a swoon.