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They both clutched the fence in their hands. Their eyes were drawn to the other’s as if by some magnetic force.
‘My love,’ Ella breathed, moisture in her eyes - and she didn’t need any onions for it. ‘How I have longed to see you again.’
‘And I you, my love. I have longed to see you again even more than you have longed to see me! Your sweet voice is to my ears as honey to my tongue.’
‘Impossible!’
‘I assure you, it is. The cadence of your speech…’
‘No, no, I don’t mean the bit about the honey! I mean the bit about you longing for me more than I longed for you! I have definitely longed more for you than you for me. How could I not? You are my pillar of strength in the midst of my woe, Edmund. My sole reason to continue living.’
That was laying it on a bit thick, wasn’t it? Nice walks in the park, reading, fighting for women’s rights… I could come up with half a dozen good reasons to continue living off the top of my head. And they most certainly were better reasons than some stupid man!
‘I assure you, my dearest Ella, that I have longed for you more than you for me. That is the only way it could be. For who am I? Nobody but a simple merchant’s son. You are the light of my life, queen of my heart, infinitely more important than me.’
You got that right mister. Satisfied, I nodded to myself. At least the fellow knew his place.
Apparently though, Ella didn’t. ‘You are not a nobody!’ she protested. ‘And I’m not more important than you!’
What the… of course you are! Through a gap in the foliage, I shot a glare at my little sister. She should squash this fellow until he was her willing slave, not try to build his self-esteem! Men’s heads were big enough already.
Ella seemed to think otherwise. ‘You are everything to me, Edmund,’ she declared. ‘Everything!’
‘As are you to me.’
‘Oh, Edmund.’
‘Oh, Ella, my love.’
For a few more minutes they continued their protestations of love and debate about who had missed whom more in the unimaginably long twenty-two hours or so that they had been separated. Finally though, they seemed to run out of sweet compliments and flowery similes for the passionate strength of their love.
The first pause ensued, and then, in a voice as tense as could be, Edmund asked:
‘How do things stand, my love? What of Sir Philip?’
Ella took a moment to answer. Peeking through the bushes, I saw that she was clutching the fence for support.
‘He came to visit me today,’ she whispered.
Edmund’s eyes slid shut, and he let himself fall against the fence. ‘Oh fearful harbinger of doom!’ he groaned.
‘He brought me flowers.’
‘What agony!’
‘They were pink roses.’
‘This is unbearable! Please, God, strike me down with a bolt of lightning!’
I glanced up towards the night sky. It didn’t look like God was in the mood to oblige Edmund. I wished he would. Then at least the moaning and groaning would stop.
‘And he said I was more beautiful than any flower he had ever brought me.’
‘Enough! Enough!’ With another groan, Edmund slid down the fence until he was on his knees in the grass. ‘Have mercy on me!’
‘He also said I was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon,’ Ella continued, blushing. ‘I asked him how it was he had met that few girls, and he laughed.’
‘Please! I beg of you, stop! You are killing me! Stop!’
