Pricing The Heart

Chapter 39

The horse wasn't moving fast enough, David cursed for the umpteenth time that evening, racing against time to get to Eloise. The mere thought of losing her forever, of neither seeing her nor knowing where she might be found, made his heart pound fiercely and his eyes water. But he didn't dare give into his tears. He couldn't risk having them slow him down in his mission to find Eloise and stop her from leaving England... from leaving him. He knew he deserved her desertion. He'd been selfish in his actions, in exploring his desires for her while forbidding her from falling in love with him. Yet she'd loved him, and he'd loved her in return, and afraid of his love, he'd banished her from his presence, only to show up in her life again when he thought he might lose her to another man. He'd been cruel to her, blatantly denying his love for her because he feared a repetition of his past.

But in this moment, as David raced to reach Eloise, he discovered a fear greater than the one he had for the past; He feared a future without Eloise.

Surely, the kisses we shared meant something more than the mere joining of lips; surely it stopped your heart the same way it did mine. The words from her letter returned to him.

"More than that, my love, it was a joining of our souls..." he breathed into the cold evening air, wishing it was her he spoke to, wishing he could hold her in this moment and tell her just how much he loved her.

Did it not make your stomach quiver to be near me, to sit and converse for long hours into the ungodly night? Did you not often think you could drown in my eyes, as I believed I could drown in yours?

"You gave me many butterflies. You ignited the flames that now possesses my heart. And how often I've been immersed in your beautiful eyes."

If so, my lord, come to me.

"Wait for me. My goodness, Eloise, wait for me," he whispered, urging the horse forward with a kick to its flank.

The full moon lit his path, the chilly night air penetrating his flimsy shirt and sending a wave of shiver through him. He fought to maintain a firm grip on the reins with his sweaty palms, and the pain in his side protested his breakneck speed. But he didn't care, neither did he stop until the white building came into view half an hour later.

As he neared, he heaved a small sigh of relief when he found his missing horse tied to a tree, hoping he might find Eloise as well. He dismounted his horse and tied it to the same tree before hurrying up the front stairs. Ignoring the knocker, he made a fist and pounded on the door. The door remained firmly closed before him. He turned to the window, realizing then that it was also closed.

"Eloise?" He cupped his hands over the glass pane, pressing his head to it as he attempted to look inside, but the curtains blocked his view. "Eloise." He rapped on the glass. Still, nothing.

Suppressing the fear that gnawed at his heart when an entire minute passed and nothing happened, he turned back to the door and twisted the knob. To his surprise, the door creaked open. He blinked at the darkness and waited several seconds until his vision adjusted to it.

"Eloise?" he called, turning to enter the room on his left. Cautiously, he felt around the room, bumping into furniture, until he found a candle and lighter on a table. He lit the candle, expelling the darkness to reveal he was standing in the center of the modest parlor.

Eloise was not in the parlor, nor was she in the kitchen. He turned to the stairs, fear slowing his movements as he mounted it. Two doors lined the wall of the small hallway.

"Eloise?!" He opened the first door. While the room was sparsely furnished with a single bed and dresser, it was in a pristine state—clean, with white linen covering the mattress. But Eloise was not in it.

He turned from it, leaving the door open as he made his way to the next room. His heart slowing, he twisted the knob.

This room had belonged to Eloise. He knew, not merely because it was the largest of the two, but because the doors of the armoire stood wide open, emptied of its content.

She is gone. David shook his head violently to dispel the cruel thought.

I'm too late.

"No!" he barked, hurrying into the room. "No!" He hurried to the window and shoved the curtains aside, desperate to find her hiding behind them. Surely she meant to play a silly game on him, to force him out of his madness and into her arms. Well, she'd succeeded. He'd come to her like she'd requested, and he would be damned if he gave up on her now.

He turned from the curtains to look under the bed. When he didn't find her there, he raided the room, then the entire house, leaving broken furniture in his wake. He yelled her name, crying, begging, vowing, cursing. Still, she eluded him.

It was several minutes before he staggered out of the building, blood slipping from between his fingers as he clutched his side. He was unsurprised to find his stitches had come loose, but the blood did not slow him down, nor did it deter him from his mission to find Eloise. He would not relent—not tonight, not forever. He would scour all of England and beyond if he needed to.

Turning to mount his horse, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed an approaching carriage. Eloise? He sucked in a breath, his hope rising, then falling with the realization of whose carriage it was; his. His footman was only just arriving to deliver his message to Eloise. He thought it unfortunate that they both arrived late.

He shook his head and tried to mount his horse once more, but the pain stopped him dead in his tracks, nearly knocking him to the ground. Reluctantly, he admitted he was too injured to ride tonight. Not only did he risk falling off the horse in his haste, he risked bleeding to death. He made his way to the carriage.

"Take me to the seaport," he said to the footman, who was only then noticing him.

Nodding, he jumped down from the side and opened the door for him. Once he was settled inside the carriage, David untucked his shirt and looked at his wound. Indeed, a few stitches had come loose, but he thought the bleeding could be managed until the physician was summoned to redo them. He tore off the hemline of his shirt and tied it firmly around his waist. The action slowed the bleeding drastically, alleviating his pain to a bearable level. Wiping his bloody hands on his trouser leg, he closed his eyes; praying desperately he would find Eloise tonight.

But his prayers went unanswered. He realized, after several hours at the seaport, that she was gone—truly gone.

*

Eloise spent the entire night by her window, restless as she waited for David to show up—desperate, as she whispered prayers to God, beseeching him to turn the heart of the man she loved to her. But David's heart remained stubbornly against her. He neither showed up that evening nor the next morning. And at midday, when it became apparent he would never come for her, Eloise buried her face in her hands and gave into her grief. She cried until she trembled from her tears—until she truly felt she might drown in them.

Paralyzed by her grief, she sat glued to her position by the window for several hours, clinging to the debris of her shredded hope. She thought if she waited a little longer, he might yet decide to come to her. It was mid-afternoon when she finally decided to bury the remains of her dead hope. She wiped her tears with her sleeves, and rising from her position by the window, turned and packed her bags. By the time she climbed into a hackney several minutes later, the sun had begun disappearing behind a cluster of trees.

Now what? She understood the implications of her actions, of her decision to move to a strange country alone, where neither family nor friend awaited her. More than that, she feared the implications. But she didn't dare give into the temptation to turn back, because she thought she stood a better chance of surviving an uncertain future than one wrought with heartaches.

Clutching her trembling hands before her, she shifted to the window. The part of her that clung desperately to David, watched the moving streets for signs of him. Her heart skipped every time she saw a black carriage, only to sink at the realization it wasn't him. When she thought she might suffer a heart attack as a result of her disappointment, she shifted from the window.

She sat counting the seconds that crawled by until the hackney pulled to a halt an hour later at the seaport. Once she'd paid the price for her ticket, she boarded the steamship bound for America.