Silas looked wounded. He reached out for her, but she was already stepping into her gown and pulling it up over her breasts. Panic began to rise in her throat. She was filthy, covered in dirt and leaves, and without anyone to fix her gown. How could she go back to the party now?
“If you’ll excuse me, I have my future husband to return to.” She bunched the gown about her waist and started back into the trees.
“Wait—Elswyth, wait!” Silas reached out and grabbed her. “You cannot marry him.”
Elswyth laughed bitterly. “What else am I to do? If I am pregnant now, I will be ruined. I must marry him, bed him, and pretend the child looks nothing like his true father.”
“Elswyth, please—”
“What, Silas? You will not marry me, but you will not let me wed anyone else? Are you so vain that you must toy with me?”
“No!”
“Then why?”
“Because… because…”
She watched his face. She watched him fall apart, his arms slumping to his sides, and she knew what was coming.
“Don’t say it,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“Because I love you, Elswyth,” Silas said. His voice broke over the words, and he was defeated, standing there with nothing left to say.
Elswyth stared. That horrible feeling—that prickling, floating feeling that she prayed was not love—rose up inside her, threatened to fly out of her mouth in a string of four fatal words:I love you too.
He lifted his arms in a helpless gesture, palms up in supplication. “It’s because I love you. Is that enough?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “If you loved me,” she whispered, “then you would marry me, and damn what anyone else says.”
His face said everything: mouth open, searching for the words. Eyes dark, flickering back and forth around her face, fullof emotion. He closed his mouth, defeated. Then he dropped her arm, the warmth of his hand vanishing.
Elswyth nodded. She straightened her back and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Then that is all we have to say. Goodbye, Sir Silas.”
Elswyth turned away, unable to look at his face for another moment. She marched through the greenhouse, toward the door, and left him there, alone.
PART THREE
AUTUMN
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The small, tear-shaped snowdrop flower is said to protect against poison and dark magic. As one of the first flowers to bloom in the springtime, it is also said to symbolize the goddess Persephone’s return from the underworld. In the language of flowers, the snowdrop meansHope.
After the wedding, Elswyth sat on her bed. She still wore her wedding gown, white lace and tulle with an embroidered bodice. Her mother’s necklace lay cold on her breast, and her hair was tied in a high bun accented with white roses. The ceremony had been more of a formality—no more than ten people—but Mrs. Rose had insisted Elswyth look her best.
She looked around the room. She’d only returned after the ceremony to gather her things, and yet she found herself lingering. Everything she’d brought to London was now tucked away in two trunks, sitting beside her, ready for the trip to Dr. Gall’s home in Oxford. The rest of the room had returned to the state she’d found it in. Only Persephone’s effects remained.
She tried not to think of it. Instead, she flipped through the letters that had arrived that morning before the ceremony. Manylords and ladies had sent congratulations on hermost auspiciousmatch. All the words seemed empty.
Elswyth stood, moving toward the writing desk. She touched the bouquet of flowers there, dried and dead again, and thought about the man who had sent them. Could it really have been the prince? Or was that only a delusion of Elswyth’s, as everyone said?
She shook her head and began packing up Persephone’s letters. When she was finished, Elswyth turned back toward the writing desk, where a single letter remained unopened. Her name was scrawled on the envelope in a familiar, twisting script.
She opened it and found a single page of her father’s handwriting, familiar but in a shaky hand. Lines of ink trailed behind the letters, as though he’d been unable to lift the pen.
Dearest Elswyth,
I hope this letter finds you well. When you left for London, I had no doubt that you would find an advantageous match. The funds provided by Lord Gall have relieved our immediate debts, and I am now able to have the doctor come each day. He says that I am remaining stable, and that I may have some months left. I hope that you can visit before my time is done, but I understand if you do not. I know this was not easy for you, and that you never wished to marry. But I am told Lord Gall is a good man, one who will treat you well. Perhaps I will live long enough to see my grandchildren.
