"You look lovely, my lady."
"Thank you, Sylvie," Elia acknowledged, smoothing her hands down the pale lilac fabric of her dress, and frowning at her reflection in the mirror, despite the compliment she had so recently received, "At least there will be one person this evening that thinks so."
"What do you mean, my lady?"
"Nothing, truly. Only the idle musings of a woman not at all eager to go to her fate."
"Sir Guy, you mean," Sylvie realized, aware of the slight tightening at the corners of her companion's eyes, and moving to stand beside her, one hand coming to rest on Elia's bare forearm not long thereafter, "If he does not find you beautiful, that seems to be his loss, my lady. Not yours."
"You must think I am a fool," Elia said then, shaking herself, and turning from her reflection in the paned glass to look at the girl stood beside her instead, "To be so concerned over the opinion of a man that cares nothing for anything save his own power."
"I do not think that is the only thing he cares about, my lady."
"No? What else is there?"
"He does seem to concern himself over your comfort, at least a little," Sylvie replied, aware of her mistress' incredulous expression, and hurrying to explain herself further while simultaneously reaching up to resettle the other woman's curls in a delicate tumble down her back, "What I mean, my lady, is that he allows you relatively little in the way of supervision when it comes to seeing to the day to day operation of the estate."
"I suppose he does, at that," Elia mused, once again turning back to her reflection, and exhaling such that the tense set of her shoulders relaxed, even if only a little, "And aside from tonight, he does seem relatively well-able to keep me away from the Sheriff."
"I believe he will protect you tonight as well, my lady. Or at least he will, as best he can."
Elia was not entirely certain she wanted to believe Sylvie's words, every instinct she possessed unwilling to trust that Sir Guy would do anything save for ensuring his own position was secure. Things had never been easy between them, even before his assumption of power over her childhood home. And in spite of the lingering voice of her mother in the back of her mind, reminding her that it was a lady's duty to remain gracious and understanding of everyone she met, Elia found that it was remarkably difficult to do such a thing where Guy of Gisborne was concerned, her lips curving into a frown while her fingertips smoothed against the fabric of her dress once again in direct evidence of her nerves.
"Well, I suppose there's no use but to be getting on with it, then," Elia murmured, resisting the urge to permit her teeth to dig into the flesh of her lower lip, and turning towards the door of her chambers before she could lose her nerve entirely. Every step she took, it was as though leaden weights had attached themselves to her feet, a vice squeezing around her heart as she failed to ignore exactly what likely awaited her at the end of the evening in question. She did not hold any affection for Sir Guy. She could not. Not when he held the lives of her people in chains. But if the Sheriff truly was intent upon her marrying him, Elia did not see what other choice she may have.
If it came to marrying a man she despised, or being cast out of her home, leaving her people defenseless against the whims of a tyrant, Elia knew there was but one choice she could make.
She would tie herself to a man she loathed if it meant her home remained safe, or as safe as it could while still in her care.
…
"What, no need to drag her here in chains, Gisborne?" The Sheriff inquired, chuckling even in spite of the stony expression on not only Sir Guy's hardened features, but Elia's more delicate ones as well, "Surprises all around."
"Lady Elia knew her duty, same as I. There is nothing more to it than that."
"We shall see, we shall see. By the time this night is through she may have more than duty," Vaisey pressed, aware of the tightening in Guy's jaw, and allowing a toothy grin in response, "Lighten up, Gisborne, you aren't marching to your own execution."
"That remains to be seen."
"You are very kind to welcome us into your home," Elia cut in, extending a hand towards the Sheriff, despite Sir Guy's restraining arm that snapped out too late, and donning a smile no matter how fiercely the sensation of the older man's lips against the skin of her hand had her shivering in disgust, "Thank you for tonight."
"Of course, of course, we aim to please," Vaisey drawled, maintaining his hold on Elia's hand, and using it as leverage to force her to take his arm, in spite of Gisborne's half-hearted attempt at protesting, "Tell me, Lady Elia, do you enjoy Gisborne's company?"
"I-I suppose."
"He isn't a terrible bore?"
"I am afraid I hardly know him well enough to make such a supposition," Elia declared, doing her best to maintain her composure despite the chill that raced down her spine as she felt the Sheriff pull her still closer to his frame.
"You share a home, do you not?"
"We do."
"Is that not enough reason for the two of you to get to know one another?"
"Elia has her duties and I have mine," Guy explained, his tone harsh, though that seemed to have little effect on the Sheriff at all, if his oily smile were any indication, "They keep us more than occupied."
"Well perhaps I can think of a way to get you better acquainted."
Remaining silent in the wake of the suggestion, both Elia and Sir Guy shared a wary glance, though both were quick enough to redirect their gaze as soon as they noted the other was doing the same. For a moment, Elia wanted to believe they were on the same side. That perhaps he might speak up where she could not, and dissuade the Sheriff from his apparent fixation. But of course such a desire was folly. Guy of Gisborne would only ever act on his own desires, never taking her own into account whether she wanted him to, or not.
Elia knew she was very much alone, and in spite of how instinct all but screamed at her to pull herself away from the Sheriff's clutches before he could lead her to the dining hall, the young woman forced herself to remain resolute, her lips thinning into a line as she walked through the doors of the hall with Vaisey at her side, and Sir Guy at her back.
As she prayed to a God she no longer knew even listened for the fortitude to make it through the night.
…
"You need to bind the people to you, Gisborne. Find a way to force them to acknowledge you their lord once and for all and be done with it," Vaisey nagged, having grown bored of the current topic of conversation as the trio concluded their meal, and blotting at the corners of his mouth with the napkin held in one hand before going on, "Can you not think of one way you might do that?"
"I am already doing all that I can-"
"I do not mean hounding them for taxes, or lurking in their fields to keep them honest!"
"Then what do you mean? Do enlighten me," Sir Guy pressed, his tone turning bitter despite having been able to predict where this evening would head, all along. He did not want what Vaisey was about to propose, any more than it seemed Elia did, herself. But whether his reasons were vastly different from her own, or not, it seemed neither one of them had any say in the matter, the grim smile that lit Vaisey's features igniting the fires of his aggravation, though Guy's outward expression remained rather calm.
"I mean, my dear Gisborne, that a wedding appears to be in order."
"A wedding."
"Yes. A wedding," The Sheriff confirmed, glancing between Gisborne, and the pale features of the woman sitting beside him, and noting that the realization of how Elia of Locksley had hardly touched her supper only seemed to increase his glee at the prospect now before him, "I gather the two of you are familiar with the term."
When the two seated before him at the table made no move to respond, Vaisey emitted a grating chuckle, the sound seeming to echo around the stone walls of the dining hall as though the room was as empty as the day it had been made. While Sir Guy seemed barely capable of restraining his displeasure, the Lady Elia kept her composure, clinging to it by a thread. And, not for the first time, Vaisey wondered if there was anything that would force the young lady of Locksley Manor to break from her rigid standards of what a lady should be, his gaze zeroing in on her, alone, as he leaned forward to place both elbows upon the table and spoke once again.
"Isn't a lady supposed to be jumping for joy over her wedding day? You seem rather-morose."
"I can assure you, Sheriff, I am not."
"No? Give us a smile, then. Go on."
Forcing herself to do as she had been told, Elia managed a meager smile, the fingers of the hand stationed upon the fabric of her dress that covered her thigh curling into a fist while she did so. She seemed entirely incapable of restraining the trembling that spread through her limbs, her gaze holding Vaisey's despite how fiercely she wished she might look away. And although she knew he was toying with her-that she would be far better served by simply taking his torment, and acting as though she had desired it all along-Elia inhaled sharply through her nose, her smile fading away as quickly as it had come as she addressed the Sheriff with nothing short of feigned innocence inherent in her tone.
"Forgive me, but I seem to recall consent being a vital part of a marriage. As yet, neither Sir Guy, nor I have given that."
"Ah, but you see, I have obtained Gisborne's consent already," Vaisey remarked, nothing short of thrilled at the sudden horror that dawned in Elia's expression, one hand toying with the hilt of the knife he had used to cut his meat mere moments ago as he went on, "And he has assured me I will have yours, as well."
"He has," Elia repeated, her blue eyes flicking towards Sir Guy, meeting the ice in his own gaze, and doing her best to match it with the venom she could feel rising in her own, "How very kind of him."
"Consider it as practice. A husband's duty is to speak for his wife. Gisborne simply started in on all that a bit early."
"Indeed."
"A pity he failed to start early on anything else."
"Whatever your power, Vaisey, I will not have you suggesting such things to my-intended," Sir Guy intervened, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he looked toward the Sheriff, completely oblivious to Elia's obvious distress in favor of acknowledging his own, "If this is what you want, we will comply. But you will not torment her."
"Ah, but I can torment whomever I like. Including your pretty little bride," Vaisey sang, now twirling the blade he held between his fingers in an almost lazy fashion, his gaze lingering on the spinning object for only a moment before he turned his attention to Gisborne once more, "Might as well get used to that, Gisborne."
"When will the wedding take place?"
"Sir Guy-"
"When will the wedding take place?" Gisborne repeated, the look he shot Elia to keep her silent causing the young woman's mouth to thin, her eyes flashing their displeasure while her other hand disappeared beneath the table to join the first, fisted in her lap. In truth, though he hardly made a point of attempting to pay much heed to the nature of Elia's moods, Guy would have been a fool to pretend he could not read her displeasure now, her gaze holding his own in something not all that far from defiance until he slid his attention back towards the Sheriff in time to hear his reply.
"A fortnight seems reasonable."
"Agreed."
"And of course I shall be the one to give away the bride," The Sheriff continued, once again directing his attention to the young woman in question, greasy smile firmly in place as he leaned forward across the table, and noted how Elia seemed to flinch away in response, "You'll like that, won't you, my dear? With no remaining male kin to do the deed-"
"There is always Thornton."
"A servant? Heavens no, girl, that is not the sort of man that needs to give away a noble lady."
"I have always favored Thornton as more than a servant," Elia persisted, squaring her shoulders beneath not only the stern expression in the face of the man who would apparently become her husband, but the almost sinful level of amusement in the Sheriff's features as well, "He is family. The only family I appear to have left."
"And in a fortnight, Sir Guy will be your family. I doubt he wishes to have his bride given to him at the hands of a lowly servant," Vaisey chuckled, glancing towards the man in question, and choosing to bait him still further, even at the expense of his obviously barely leashed temper, "Isn't that right, Gisborne? Your wife to be deserves better than that."
"The Sheriff will do as he pleases, Elia. You know that as well as I."
Pressing her lips together in her fury, Elia hated that better sense rose up to make her fall silent, every instinct she possessed holding her tongue when she wanted to shout to the heavens that she would not do this. That no one could make her. In spite of the resolve she had possessed, even only for a moment, earlier that very day, it seemed that now, when the cold reality of her fate rested before her, she could no longer meet it as bravely as she desired. It seemed as though her entire world had narrowed down to this one, singular choice. Not even a choice. An edict.
She had always known this was the brunt of a woman's place in the world, and yet, to be denied even the right to choose who would give her to her husband on her wedding day if her father could not be there to do the deed himself stung her far more fiercely than she dared to admit.
Still, Elia would be damned if she allowed either the Sheriff or her intended the satisfaction of witnessing her descent into despair, her fingernails digging half-crescent shapes into the skin of her palms as she forced herself to look the Sheriff in the eye once more. The man had never stopped watching her, it seemed, his cold, calculating eyes observing her every reaction as though he half hoped she would grant him the pleasure of making a scene in the wake of everything she had just witnessed. But stubbornly-persistently-Elia resisted, a slow breath escaping her lungs before she forced a smile to her lips, and spoke once more.
"If you wish, I would be happy to have you with me on my wedding day," She began, squaring her shoulders as she forced her expression to remain serene, the very picture of the high-born lady her mother had raised her to be, though on the inside, Elia of Locksley was no such thing.
Inside…
Inside, she was screaming.
How had it come to this?
…
Hello, darling readers! And welcome (finally!) to another new chapter in Elia's tale! I have no real excuse to offer for the abysmal delay between updates, so I will not waste your time in making you hear my reasons at all. I simply hope you can all forgive me for leaving you all hanging for so long, because I promise I have many more plans for this story and have no intention of abandoning it, now!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to those of you that have been so very kind in giving your time to read this story thus far, as well as to all of you that have been patient enough to stick with me in between updates! Special shout outs go out to last chapter's reviewers, as well, for leaving such encouraging words of support the last time around (immy020102, ChiTown4ever, Guest, and SeraphineWhist, this means you)! I truly do appreciate the support, and if you are all still around, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last!
Until next time, angels!
MOMM