The Frozen Rose

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A lonely woman

Even with her eyes closed, Elizabeth knew where she had woken up. His smell was in the pillows and in the blankets, and probably all over her as well.

She could safely say she was happy. She had admitted to William she loved him and she had given him her all. He had taken it, and she was certain he had loved it. She had not been the only one moaning. She had not been the one telling her "just a little longer" over and over again.

For the first time in seven years, she could think of him and smile without reservations. And for the first time in forever, she was certain she had a bright future ahead of her. A future with a man she loved and who she trusted would not leave her again. He had learned his lesson, had he not? And he had gotten everything she could give, had he not?

With a smile, she opened her eyes to watch him sleep in front of her. But her smile disappeared at the sight of mere blankets and a pillow. William was not there.

Suddenly feeling cold and bare under the blankets, she stepped out and sought her clothing. They were nicely draped over a chair in the corner of the room. William's clothing was not there.

Of course, she told herself, he would not go down without any clothing. But something inside her doubted her trust in him. She shook the thought away. He was probably just down the stairs, enjoying breakfast.

Once she was dressed, she walked down. The house was silent and felt cold. A feeling of loneliness washed over her.

She knew the house well and walked straight to the door where William always had his breakfast. But aside from the usual furniture, the room was empty. Her heart broke at the sight of it, but she shook her head again. He ought to be here somewhere.

Next she walked to his study, but there was no one in that room either. She roamed through the rest of the house, feeling her happiness and trust in him fade. She found she was frightened. Frightened he might have left again, and frightened that if her fragile heart was to be broken again, she might never recover.

She had put her trust in him, and thought he had done the same. He had made love to her last night. He had taken her in every way a man could take a woman. He had looked at her and smiled.

Or had she understood everything wrong?

Every moan, every sigh, every smile. Was it all a lie? Was the glimmer in his eyes not real? Was the fire she had felt ignited by a man with a façade?

"My lady," a voice spoke behind her. Startled, Elizabeth turned around to look at the butler who called for her attention. "Would you like some breakfast?"

She shook her head. "Where is William?"

The butler swallowed, then looked around, searching for an escape. Eventually he looked back at her and uncomfortably said: "the master is not here."

She feared the answer when she asked: "where is he then?" And seeing the look in the butler's eyes was all the answer she needed. Yet she did not want it to be true. She hoped – no, she prayed – that she read his expression wrong.

"He left London, my lady."

Those few words sounded like the world that was crashing down on her. The hopes she had had for them, the happiness she had felt when she was with him, the leap of faith she had taken, the trust she had given back... all of it came down on her and broke everything inside her.

Before she was too weak to let the tears stream out, she told the butler: "thank you" and left. She left the room, she left the house, she left everything that reminded her of him and of last night. She jumped in the carriage and ordered to drive her home.

But she hated the ride home. She hated it, for it left her alone with her mind and her tears and her broken heart. She hated it, for it was a ride she knew she would never forget.

After all those months of spending time with him, of doubting whether she should befriend him or push him away, she had made the decision to trust him. She had put everything – her heart, her virtue, her trust – in him. And he thanked her by taking it all and leaving her behind. She did not believe he had looked back. She did not think he regretted anything. After all, he was only a man and he had told her he could never trust her.

Yet she had said the same about him. But she was not strong enough to stay with that mindset. She had given in and she had given him everything she had. She had falsely believed he loved her and now she had to pay the price – again.

Had love truly made her blind to his deception and forged love? Was I truly possible to be hurt by the same man for the same reason? Would you not think a woman would learn?

Or was it just her? Was she too madly in love with him that she believed he felt the same for her? Was she the only one who was left by a man she still loved? Was she the only one believing he loved her too?

She felt the carriage slow down and suddenly hated living so near him. She was not yet ready to face her family. She was not yet ready to admit to them she had been stupid. Her eyes were still red from crying and her cheeks wet from the tears. She was not fully accepted yet that she was broken, but her family would ask her what was wrong.

There was nothing worse than telling your loved ones of your pain, for they mean to make you happy. You do not want to cry in front of them, for you know you hurt them too. But right now, there was no stopping Elizabeth from crying. Right now, there was no chance she would smile.

She got out of the carriage and stepped inside the house. Twas quiet, and she hoped no one was here. Mayhap they were all out of the house before they could have realized she was not there.

As silent as she could, she walked up the stairs, but had not reached the middle of it when she heard a door open downstairs.

"Elizabeth," Andrew's voice said. "Where have you been all night?"

She turned around and looked at her brother. She saw his face change when he saw her tears. "At William's estate."

"What have you been doing there?" His voice was suspicious, yet cautious.

"Giving him my virtue," she said as confident as she could.

She saw Andrew's face transform from pity to disappointment. "Elizabeth," he said, not able to hide the disappointment in his voice either.

"And then he left," she continued, ignoring him. "Again."

"Left?"

"He accepted an offer similar to his previous one. He is off traveling through England again."

"That bastard," she heard him say under his breath. With angry steps, he walked toward her and stopped right in front of her. "Are you alright?"

"No."

He gave her a pity look, then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. He allowed her to cry and she did, using him as support to her legs that were giving away. Just like her mental strength, she did not have any physical power left in her.

She had loved twice and she had lost twice.

She had been correct. A man did take any woman who was willing.