Moth Among Butterflies

CHAPTER V

The sun rose high in the sky, so Esther and the duke decided to take shelter under the nearest oak tree. After tying the reigns, he sat by the waitress and made an inquiry upon her nerves for the nth time. But she was already calm and good. She had apologized for her sudden outburst quite a dozen of times too. They sat there without conversation for an interim, but all was alright, for there was no awkwardness.

But this might have been a very lucky day for the duke after all, for in that moment, Esther was very thankful for his attention and patience with her. Grateful enough that she chose to trust him and disclose the memory which had pained her so much as to bewail. And so she wrote thus;

'I was not always mute.'

She flashed these words, but debated within herself if she would elucidate. But the duke held her hand, his gray eyes showing every hint of sincerity. He wanted her to trust him, for whatever this is he felt that it was something extremely painful to her. She sighed a deep sigh and smiled a tight smile- encouraged. She scribbled on.

Cavendish watched as the waitress slowly divulge her dark history. She had every ounce of concentration in her and would stop writing from time to time, looking at the green pastures before resuming again. Her eyes watered in small moments of thought, and he would stroke her back for consolation. His heart tightened as he watched this woman. It was odd. He never cared to know anyone before. He had enough things to think of because of his title. But this woman intrigued him. She had shown him different sides of her in only a short time of aquaintance!

She stared blankly at the long note she had written, hesitating to part with it. Cavendish waited. Esther took hold of his hand and laid the note on his palm. The duke pulled his hand to be able to read it, but Esther did not let go. He looked at her; The waitress' worried dark brown eyes searched his gray ones. It seemed like she looked for reassurance in him. He felt her cold hands shivering against his own.

"It's alright, Esther. You can trust me."

With one last look at the duke, Esther finally released his hand in a slow manner. And he read thus;

'My nativity took our mother's life, and it ruined my father. He drank everyday and was rarely home. It was when I was about five that he started projecting his sadness on myself. He abhored the sight of me. And one fateful day, he came at me with gunpoint.'

"Gunpoint?!" Cavendish shot her an aghast look, but she held his hand and managed a small reassuring smile. He went on.

'I was horrified, and I started to cry. He demanded I hush at once, but I could not bring myself to do so. And that is when he pulled the trigger.'

Another horrified look. "By Jove! Where is the scar?"

Esther brushed the right sleeve of her dress to reveal her shoulder. There it was, the huge lump of flesh where the bullet had once penetrated. Cavendish cupped her nearest cheek. His eyes searched hers and his brows wrinkled in solicitude for the woman. Esther held the hand on her face and tilted her head slightly so as to fit her cheek more comfortably on his palm. She pushed his hand that held the paper, urging him to read on.

'After that, gunpoint happened about ten more times within the course of my life. But I was never hit again, the furniture was. It was like a warning that if I do something to vex him, a bullet would hit me once again. But it was not the gunpoint that terrified me, for I had gotten used to it that I learned to toughen my heart and nerves in front of it. What horrified me was my father's eyes when he held the gun- bloodthirsty, murderous, unfeeling- as if I was a mere animal. I could not utter a word since I was shot no matter how hard I try. Now, my father is cold to me as if I do not exist.'

By reaching the end of the note, Cavendish's eyes were wide with shock, but Esther managed to give him a wry smile. What kind of father would be like this to his own flesh and blood?! She was but five years old!

There was nothing to say. He should pity her, but that would only ruin her pride. Instead, he admired her strength. Bearing such a burden must be extremely heavy! Growing up, he saw all that is good. His parents loved him dearly, and they raised him with strict guidance and happy manners. Everyone was good to him, yet he still thought his life to be hard. But this woman who has such a memory, produces honest smiles and lives life in a gay disposition.

He could not help but once again be improper when he reached for Esther and gave her the most generous hug he has given to anyone. It was not forceful but gentle. He laid his head on her shoulders and closed his eyes. And for a short while, as if time had halted, he felt that he was no duke. Only that he was a man and she was a woman- equal and feeling.