Chapter 50: Chapter 50

The cemetery was beautiful. Flowers and plants in bloom were everywhere Ella looked. The sky was a brilliant blue, and it didn’t quite seem to go with the melancholy mood of the occasion. The casket they were about to lower into the ground contained the body of one of the most wonderful people she’d ever known. How dare the sky be anything but gray?

Hundreds of people were there. Tim’s parents had decided to allow anyone who wanted to come to do so. Ella thought it was an odd choice, but who was she to argue with them?

It had been two days since she’d last spoken to Rome. Bart had called her to tell her that he hadn’t been at Mark’s graveside service, and he was worried about him, too. No one answered his phone when she called, and Bart hadn’t seen any lights in his bedroom at his parents’ house at all.

She had a feeling he was gone, that his dad had taken him to Italy already. Which meant it was likely in her best interest to get to France as soon as her dad would take her there. She knew he’d already filed for the annulment, so at the moment, she wasn’t even sure if she was legally still Rome’s wife--not that she cared what the law said. She knew the truth. She would always be Rome’s wife, regardless of what the law said.

Mary was standing on one side of her, her parents on the other, even though they weren’t fond of the fired maid. Ella knew there were men all over the perimeter of the cemetery in case she decided to run. But she had no reason to do that. She needed to get to Europe anyway. Wouldn’t it make sense for her to let her father get there?

Not that it would be easy to get away from her father once she got to Europe either. Especially if he forced her to marry Henry. She’d considered trying to convince Henry that he shouldn’t go through with it, that she didn’t want to marry him, and it made no sense for him to marry a woman who didn’t want to be his wife when he could find so many other women who would be honored to have the chance, but she wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort.

“Hide this.”

The feel of someone’s hand brushing hers, shoving something into it and the harsh whisper in her ear had Ella’s head spinning around, but he was gone almost as quickly as he’d been there.

She didn’t dare look down to see what it was but from the feel of it, she could tell it was a vial of some sort. Now, who would be shoving a vial into her hand in the middle of a funeral? She turned to look at the retreating figure but couldn’t tell who he was.

As soon as she got a chance, Ella dropped the vial down the top of her dress. Since she had no pockets or bag, there was no other choice. She had to trust that whoever had slipped it to her had her best interest at heart, even if she had no idea who it was. She had a feeling, though, that it was Bart, and she wouldn’t be surprised at all if he called her later to tell her what it was and what it was for. There weren’t many people in this world she could trust at the moment, but he was one of them.

The service ended, and Ella said goodbye to Mary, staying with her father, stepmother, and bawling stepsisters, heading for the limo to take her back to her prison at her father’s house until he was ready to move her to a new prison in France unless this vial proved to be a viable alternative.

No one noticed the vial. As soon as Ella got back to her parent's 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.