2. Estelle

2

Estelle

" I s this what you want?" Father asked. "Or should I say, whom you want."

"It is," I said. "He's everything I could want. And more."

Mother and I had joined Father in his study. The subject at hand? Whether or not Father would agree to the marriage of Constantine and me.

Mauve and Pierre were set to arrive home from their European honeymoon in just a few short weeks. I could hardly wait to see my sister and tell her everything that had transpired since her wedding day. I'd already imagined a hundred times her facial expression when I told her I'd fallen in love during the three months she was away. Madly and deeply in love with Constantine Harris.

Constantine had already come to my father and asked for my hand. I had every reason to hope Father would agree to the marriage. He'd consented to a courtship without much discussion, a fact that had surprised me a great deal at the time. But now that my parents knew Constantine as I did, I felt certain that they would see how well we fit together. Despite his financial status, he and I were compatible in every way. He'd won my heart so easily I had to laugh at myself for ever thinking there was not a man out there for me as there had been for Mauve.

"I shall consent to the marriage," Father said. "But his position in life must be elevated. We'll find something in the company for Constantine to do. He's intelligent and hardworking."

"Humble as well." Mother looked up from her needlepoint. "Such a dear boy, really."

"I think so too." I flushed, recalling the passion we'd shared just last night. We'd not been able to stop ourselves. The tension had built up for weeks and weeks, and when he'd told me he'd asked Father for my hand, I'd been so overwhelmed with love and desire that I'd quite lost my head. Not that it mattered. We were to be married. I would have him in my bed every night starting very soon.

"Thank you, Father." I stood, rounding the desk to kiss his ruddy cheek. "You've made me very happy."

"I hope we're not wrong about him," Father said, as if discussing a business deal. "If he's only in it for the money, it'll soon be transparent."

"He's not," I said. "It's me he wants."

"I sense that too," Mother said. "Although he'll have to prove himself worthy at any account."

"I'll tell him tonight," Father said. "After supper. Over a scotch. As I did with Pierre."

"Won't it be wonderful to have both my girls married? Babies soon to come." Mother smiled, her eyes softening at the corners. "To be young and in love. There's no better feeling."

"Other than to be middle-aged and in love," Father said, winking at Mother.

"Dear me. You're positively naughty." Mother's cheeks flushed, but a subtle smile played at her lips.

"May I go?" I asked. "I'd like to have Abigail fix my hair before tonight."

"Yes, my dear. Off you go." Father waved me out of the door.

"Have fun tonight, darling," Mother called as I sailed out the door to the study and danced up the stairs to my room. I'd wear my new blue dress to go with my eyes and have Abigail coax my curls into a becoming twist. If tonight I was to be proposed to, I must look my best.

How silly I was now. This is what love does to a woman. If only I'd known, I might not have been so critical of others succumbing to Cupid's arrow. Now that it had happened to me, I understood perfectly.

Constantine was supposed to arrive promptly at seven. He'd been called into the city to take care of something but had promised to be ready to take me out for a walk before supper. The weather had cooled considerably the past week, but it was still warm in the afternoon. By sunset, the temperatures dropped and brought the hint of autumn. The air smelled of drying leaves and late-blooming roses.

I sat with Mother in the drawing room trying to read a book but was too distracted. Minutes ticked by, one after the other, until it was thirty minutes past the hour, and he had not yet arrived.

Agitated, I got up to pace around the room, wringing my hands. Something was wrong. I felt it deep inside. He was in trouble. Or had he changed his mind?

Please, Connie, don't do this to me. Don't break my heart.

Another thirty minutes passed. Mother, too, had started fretting. Father came down dressed for dinner and still Constantine had not arrived.

I was about to go out of my mind and go out looking for him when our butler, Frank, appeared in the doorway, looking pale and shaken. "The police are here. They're asking for you, Mr. Sullivan."

My stomach dropped to the floor and remained there. Tears pricked my eyes. Father exchanged a glance with Mother. I knew then. He suspected the same as I. Constantine was hurt. Or worse.

"You stay here," Father said to me. "I'll be right back."

I sat next to Mother on the couch. She put aside her needlepoint and took my hand in hers. Minutes passed, the second hand ticking and ticking, driving me mad.

Finally, Father returned, looking grim and a little green.

He's dead , I thought. "Father, tell it to me straight."

Father sank into the couch on the other side of me. "There was an accident. A collision of motorcars. Head-on. I'm sorry, darling. Constantine was killed."

Even though I knew it was coming, the shock of it hit me as if I'd been suddenly tossed against a brick wall. A howl rose up from deep inside me. A knowing, too, that he'd been too good to be true. He was too good for this world. For me.

I was meant to be alone. But I didn't want to be. I wanted Constantine and the life I'd dreamt of as his wife. The way he'd tamed me in ways I never thought possible had given me hope. The dangling promise of a life had suddenly been plucked from me. Constantine Harris was the love of my life. Besides Mauve, he was the only person who would ever love me just as I was.

Mother took me in her arms, and I wept and wept. Nothing mattered without Constantine. I might as well have died with him.