The Greatest Thing

Feelings I Can't Fight

New Years had come and gone and rehearsal for Spectacular, Spectacular had started up again. Every day since Estelle left, Christian lost more and more hope of her returning. He finished the play with the Duke's requested ending, having the Maharajah keep the courtesan while the penniless sitar player ended up alone. Life imitates art, he thought. Taking a page out of Toulouse's handbook, Christian turned heavily to drinking. Otherwise, his thoughts would wander to a dark place he never wanted to go, but would always end up in eventually. Flashes of thoughts in his mind about Estelle and her new suitor. His eyes upon her face. His hand upon her hand. His lips caressing her skin. It was more than he could stand. Thus, he drank to dull the pain. This fact did not go unnoticed. His friends debated on whether or not they should encourage him to go back home. His haven that was Paris had turned into his own hell, and although tortured artists were in fashion, they did not want Christian to become one. Part of his appeal was his hopeful nature and his love of love, but now that spark was gone and the only person who could ever get it back was across the way in England preparing for her wedding day in a few weeks.

Estelle was trying her best. Truly, she was. However, there was a disconnect between her and Mr. Danvers that she knew they would never get passed. It wasn't his fault at all. It was hers. She couldn't open herself up fully to him, because part of her still held out hope and love for Christian. Although, she figured that every woman held out hope like this at one point in their lives. That, when they had no way of getting themselves out of a situation, some white knight would swoop them up and abscond with them to a paradise where they would never know loneliness again. The worst part of it all, was that her father had been right. Mr. Danvers was a good catch. He was kind to her, he would talk to her about any subject, and he never made her to feel like she was less than. Yet, she still didn't love him, and she had a sinking suspicion that perhaps he felt the same. She'd noticed little things here and there, a furtive glance between him and one of his servants, the way girl's hand lingered a little too long on his when she gave something to him, and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks when it did. If she didn't know better, she would suspect that he was in love with his maid. Estelle and Mr. Danvers danced around the fact that they both had feelings for another, both seeing their upcoming nuptials as that of an obligation to their family. Hers to her family and helping their financial situation, and his to his family and to keep them from scandal. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, and a friendship started to prevail, but that was all it was. Neither truly planned on ever committing themselves whole-heartedly to this. In Estelle's case, she knew that her great love was behind her in France, and she would never be so lucky as to get another. Her mother had told her as a child that everyone had a great love out in the world, but some were never lucky enough to find it, but when they did, they should never let them go. Her story always culminated in a soft glance towards Estelle's father. The fact that the same man was the one who convinced her to give up on her great love was not lost on her. In a way, she thought that perhaps he was trying to protect her. After all, she had seen what the effect losing her mother had upon him. Perhaps her father was trying to spare her that same loss later in life by making sure it never got that far. She didn't have any children to look at every day, reminding her of what she had lost. In fact, all she had of Christian that was tangible was his scarf that he had lent to her the day she never returned. It still smelled like his aftershave. Sometimes, when she truly missed him, she'd wrap herself up in his scarf and take a deep breath. The day the scarf ceased to smell like him would be a sad day indeed. It would be the day when she could no longer pretend she was wrapped in him. She dreaded the day that dreaming would end.

As she stood in front of the mirror for her dress fitting, she wanted to wrap herself up in that scarf. Her mind wandered to daydreams of walking down the aisle in this dress towards Christian. A frown settled on her face as the Christian in her daydream morphed into Mr. Danvers. Her sister watched her intently from a stool nearby.