Born to Run

Chapter 21: Your Life For Mine

Julian felt helpless as she sat down to play. The light hit her so perfectly... Curse his drunken self! Why had he done it?

The music swelled, and surrounded everyone in the room with its highs and lows. Julian watched her, holding his breath. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. This was where her heart was, embedded in the music; in what it sounded like: running. She had been running all her life. Would she ever stop? And where?

He had to tell her... soon. Julian had to somehow convince her to cease her running. Esme had to stop. She had to stop right here; before him.

By the end of the piece, she was beaming, as is she had been completely transformed. Esme looked up at Lizzie, who was standing on the balcony, applauding loudly. Her tutor gave her a bright smile, and curtsied, first to Lizzie, then to the audience, who, until then, had been spellbound. Julian caught her eye, and her smile only wavered briefly. Oh, love, he wanted to cry out to her. Do not run from me!

When he moved forward to meet her, Esme broke eye contact and left the center of attention as the celebration resumed. She disappeared into the throng, and Julian sadly returned to his seat. Maybe after this was all over...

The King turned to watch him as he slumped into his chair. He smiled. "Women were not meant to be simple, my boy," he told him, shaking his head.

Morton watched his son suspiciously, as if adding something up in his head. "Indeed, your Highness. You could not be more correct. Such women are not to be trifled with," he looked at Julian, giving him a look of warning. "Never to be trifled with."

Ignoring Morton's last comment, the King kept speaking to Julian. "Fiona was a great deal like that, you know," he said. "Head-strong, loyal," he gave a sidelong glance at Morton. "Miss Goldworth is a great deal like her, the resemblance is uncanny."

Julian grunted. "Were she not like her late Highness, maybe my life would be easier."

The King shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not," he said. "A very talented woman, that," the King nodded to where Esme was, conferring with a lady near the refreshment table. "If she was of higher birth, she would be very welcome at my table."

Morton blanched at the statement. "Such talk is fruitless, your Highness. You know it would not be accepted at all!"

Again his Majesty shrugged. "I am King, Sir Mansfield," he pointed out. "I can make anyone accept whatever I wish to."

He did have a point, Julian mused. But it did not solve his problem. To talk to Esme without anyone disturbing them! Or gossiping!

As if by a miracle, Esme bid the lady farewell and began to walk in their direction. She looked up briefly, and Lizzie stood, beckoning her to come up. "Oh, Julian, I have something I must say to her! Persuade her to come!"

Julian did nothing, figuring that if he did as his sister suggested, Esme would walk in the other direction. But oh, how he hoped she would come up!

She smiled at Lizzie, at nodded. Within minutes, she was standing behind him, her hands in Lizzie's. "Oh, Miss Esme, that was so beautiful! Did you write it yourself?"

So she composed, as well. "Yes, Miss Mansfield, I did."

The King looked at Julian and winked. "You have my blessing," he whispered out of Morton's hearing. "Go, son, before another snatches her away!"

Julian smiled, and stood beside Esme, waiting for Lizzie to finish. The girl looked up at her brother, not understanding. "Julian, what is it you wish? Miss Esme will not play for you!" she said teasingly, grinning at Esme.