The Frozen Rose

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: A call for celebration

It did not take Elizabeth long to arrive at his estate after he had send her his calling card. He had visited many bookshops in London, but not all of them. Yet he had decided to go to the one near the Brompton estate and hoped he might see her. He had not wanted to see Andrew, for he would not know how to explain why he was in that particular bookshop.

But he had been in luck. The person he wanted see, had come, and the person he did not want to see, had not come.

He led Elizabeth into the parlour, where he had prepared two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"You truly mean for a celebration," she said with a smile. He filled both glasses and gave her one, taking the other for himself.

"I believe I deserve it, no?"

She nodded her head, her beautiful green eyes on him. "I believe you do, yes."

They lifted their glasses, then took a sip of the cold and floral flavour of the white wine.

"So what will you do with your newly gained fame?" she asked while she took a seat on the nearest chair.

He shook his head. "I do not know yet. I have received an offer to write a book about a touring play and it is quite attractive."

Elizabeth's face suddenly changed into one of disappointment and pain. William had not expected she would be happy to see him go again, but he had also not expected she would want him to stay. Did she want him to stay?

He mentally shook his head. Of course she did not. She did not trust him and she wanted to remain friends. It did not bother her where he went to.

Right?

"But I am not certain yet if I will accept the offer," he added quickly. Her face showed a bit of relief, but she was not completely satisfied yet.

Did he just spoke those words to please her? True, he was not yet certain if he would accept, but had not planned on telling her that. Yet he did without thinking. Did he say that just to see the disappointment disappear from her face?

He walked to the chair next to her and sat down on it, his body facing her. "Do you want me to stay?" he found himself asking.

She looked at him with a surprised look. "You do not have to ask me. You ought to ask your family, and yourself."

"But I want to know if you want me to stay."

She seemed to struggle with herself, opening her mouth and closing it again, looking away from him and back at him, lifting a hand and then dropping it again. Eventually she said: "I like spending time with you."

So she wanted him to stay? "So you want me to stay?"

Did he sound too hopeful? Should he be hopeful? Was it not him who told himself to not trust her? Did that not also mean he should not bother about her?

Yet he knew he could not deny that she was the only person he was truly bothered about. Her opinion meant most to him – mayhap even more than his own. And if she told him to stay, he knew he would eventually agree with her and stay. But why did she have such an influence on him if he knew he should not be bothered about her?

Was it because he had finally realized that she had not lied to him since he had come back? Everything she had said seemed genuine, and when he did not believe her, the truth came to show itself – the truth she had spoken.

"I-" she started, but stopped herself. She swallowed a few times, then admitted: "I should not, but I do."

He looked her right in her eyes, loving the words she had just spoken, for he felt the same. "Why should you not want me to stay?"