“Never give up, no matter how fruitless the pursuit may seem.” ~ Pervinca Took
 

Lesson 4: Always Have a Back-up Plan

I spend the rest of the day seething over Everard so much that I nearly forget my purpose, even though I spend the next few hours comforting Estella. She is better off than she was that morning and already she is calmer and less emotional. She is still horribly subdued however and only vaguely listens as I tell her exactly why Merry Brandybuck is a louse. Then Fatty shows up just after tea and I leave him to watch over his sister while I see to other things.

Merry and Pippin remain elusive all day, but I know they’ll be waiting for that post messenger later, so after dinner I perch myself outside of the messenger’s quarters, not bothering to hide. There’s no reason for me to do so now and besides, I want him to see me. I want him to see the heated anger in my eyes and I want to see the shame in his.

Thankfully, the post messenger arrives first, returning just after dinner, the letter from Frodo tucked under his arm. He regards me curiously but tips his head formally all the same. “Good evening, Miss Pervinca,” he greets.

“Good evening,” I return the greeting and point at the letter. “Is that the post for Merry? He bade me to retrieve it for him.”

The messenger looks at me uncertainly. “Mr. Merry did not mention you would be picking it up for him, Miss Pervinca.”

“Something came up and Merry is unable to come, but he wants the letter immediately, as it’s an urgent matter; I’m sure he told you it was urgent,” I explain. “He bade me to pay you an extra copper for your troubles.” I reach into my pocket and hand him a copper. This messenger is making a lot of money off this errand.

He considers the money for a moment, for propriety’s sake, then accepts the coin without further protest. He hands over the letter and retires to his apartment.

I lean back against the wall and commence waiting. I stare at the letter and turn it about in my hand. I’m very much tempted to open it, but I know that will only cause more trouble. Besides that, it is Sam’s letter that prompted Merry to send word to Frodo. That is the letter I need to get my hands on, along with the other one that Pippin was hiding earlier. Unfortunately, my search of Pippin’s room turned up nothing; Merry must be keeping the letters with him.

There is something about all this that is not adding up, and the biggest is Merry’s proclamation that he is not available to receive Estella’s affections. And what did he mean last night by Estella already being married by the time they leave, when they’ll be leaving in the morrow? And what are they agreed upon? There has to be something more behind that statement than simple jest. They are hiding something, that much is certain, but what?

I am no closer to an answer when they arrive at the close of the hour. I hear them before I see them. Or I hear Pippin at any rate. He’s going on and on, about that time at the Harvest festival or this one present they both received for Yule, trying to prompt a response from Merry and receiving none.

They finally come around the corner and they pause when they see me. I notice immediately that Merry’s eyes are slightly puffy, and he has a ghastly pallor about him. I’ve never seen him look so bedraggled. I’m torn between sympathy and vengeance but for Estella’s sake, I cannot quaver. I keep my arms crossed and stare at them hard.

The stare doesn’t work on Pippin; he’s far too used to it. He approaches without hesitation, a curious tilt to his head. Merry follows closely, his eyes focused on the letter in my hand. He frowns at it; he knows I could sabotage them in a second if I had a mind to.

“What are you doing with that?” he asks at length. “That’s mine.”

I say nothing, but turn and walk away. Having no other choice, they follow after me, out of the Smials into the chilled late-winter air and over the hills until we are out of earshot of anyone else. Then I turn on them.

“Vinca, what are you-?”

“Shut up, Pip.”

“Don’t get angry with him,” Merry says, immediately coming to Pippin’s defense.

“And you!” I say hotly, pointing at Merry with the letter. “Estella has been in tears all day. She’s absolutely crushed. How could you do that to her?”

Merry crosses his arms. “It was unfortunate,” he says, rather a lame statement and not much of a defense.

“It was idiotic,” I correct him. “She wore her heart on her sleeve for you, told you she loves you, took the first move – again – because you were too cowardly to do so, and what do you do? You tell her you’re not available, that you will deny her no matter what she does because of that, which is nothing but a lie as far as I can see. Why aren’t you available?”

“That is none of your business,” Merry states.

“I’ll be the one to choose what is my business and what isn’t,” I say.

Merry sighs, frustration evident, and mutters something about Took logic. At length, he responds, “Pervinca, I appreciate that you are concerned for Estella and it puts me at ease to know you’re here to look after her, but I do not have to explain my actions to you. You’ve meddled enough in this business as it is. Now give me the letter.” He holds his hand out, waiting.

“You may not owe me an explanation, but you do owe one to Ella. She deserves one after all you’ve put her through over the years. Do I have your word you’ll speak with her?” I ask, holding the letter back though neither of them make a further move for it.

“I will gladly explain everything to her when I am able, but no sooner,” Merry promises. “That is the best I can offer.” He extends his hand a bit further.

I shake my head at him, a day’s worth of anger getting the better of me. “You disappoint me, Merry. Everyone knows how you feel for Estella and yet you do nothing about it. And spare me your lectures on responsibilities and sensibilities and how you kept quiet for Gordi’s sake, because those are all lies. You kept quiet because you were afraid. Even after she came to you first, you were afraid you didn’t have what it would take to hold her interest. Well, you were wrong. You had her all this time without even paying her any mind. She would have given herself to you completely if you had but shown her some courtesy.”

Merry does nothing at first. He just drops his hand and simply stands there, accepting without comment everything that I say, which rather ruins the moment truth be told. I feel myself deflate somewhat, though not enough to make me sympathize with him in the slightest. He deserves to feel miserable, as far as I’m concerned.

Then Merry lifts his head and looks at me hard, his eyes narrowed and a look of suspicion about him. “You seem to know an awful lot of my feelings on this matter. How is that exactly?”

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise in response to that look and the cold tone of his voice. I’m spared having to say anything though, as Pippin speaks up then, talking to Merry softly. “I told you she’d likely find us if we didn’t go off further.” Pip turns to me then, and in doing so he effectively places himself between Merry and me. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that he’s in love with Estella, and yet this morning, he denied it all and said he would never have her,” I reply hotly, not about to back down. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s in very poor taste Merry.”

Merry doesn’t budge, not one inch. He remains perfectly still and this is enough to tell me that I’m walking on a very fine line indeed. I suddenly find myself grateful for Pippin’s presence. I step back a little and wait for an answer.

“What I said last night was in confidence to my friend,” Merry says. “You had no right eavesdropping.”

“Oh! You’re going to lecture me on eavesdropping! That’s nice.”

“How did you know about the letter?”

“Because Estella followed you when you went to deliver it,” I say. I am not about to reveal that I know anything about the other letters.

Merry doesn’t believe this explanation but he can’t exactly call me on the lie either. He waits several moments as he carefully considers his words before continuing. “Vinca,” he says, his voice tight and drawn, “I’m telling you only once: keep out of this from here on out. Now give me my letter and leave before you test my patience.”

Pippin takes action then. He grabs me by the elbow and walks me off apace. When we’re far enough away, he hisses into my ear, “What are you doing? You’re making a bad situation worse. Merry doesn’t need to be lectured by you right now. Let me worry about him. Now give me the letter and leave this be, and whatever you heard, forget about it.”

“Gladly.” I hand the letter over. I’ve had more than enough of this entire affair. “You were right, Pip. Ella is better off without him.”

I stalk away, not waiting for a reaction from either one of them. I reach the bottom of the hill and look back at them. Merry is still standing where he had been, and Pippin is unfolding the letter, bending over it to read it in the rising moonlight.

I leave them behind and return to the Smials to find Estella. There has to be another solution to this heartache and I intend to discover it before the night is done.  

The trouble with love is that it takes two to make a match. Estella had her match, until he turned out to be an imbecilic ass with an intelligence equal to that of a garden slug, and the personality to match. I decide to declare my first plan of attack a bust and move onto Plan B.

I wait until the next morning after Merry and Pippin ride out for Hobbiton. They leave just after first breakfast and I join Estella at her table where she is sitting with her parents and brother. By now, Fatty must surely know of everything that has been happening between his sister and Merry; he takes one look at me approaching and he excuses himself from the table. He grabs Ev and Ferdi from a nearby table as he goes, and they quickly retreat from the hall. Cowards.

I do not sit myself down and instead insist that Estella accompany me for a short hike. Her mother and father are fretting about her, so it isn’t hard to convince her to come outside. Within the hour, we are dressed for a brisk walk and we leave the Smials, stopping only at the kitchen to retrieve the picnic basket and blanket I have waiting there.

We walk over the quiet hills to a glen out toward Pincup, a good hour from the Smials. I lay the blanket upon the ground and we sit under the birch trees lining the top of the glen to look out over the tiny valley. The day is cool but not cold and the walk has warmed us. The sun is dim above, shining through thin clouds, and the wind is soft and gentle. No harsh sound disturbs us and only the distant twittering of birds can be heard. This is the perfect place for Estella to relax.

I set out the picnic for second breakfast: buttered scones, fruit and tea. Estella merely nibbles at her food but already she is looking better for the walk and sun. Her eyes are still puffy and her cheeks slightly hallow, but the pale sheen of her face is gone. She leans back against a bole and closes her eyes. She lifts her face to the sun and hums with content.

“Feeling better, love?” I ask and place her discarded plate on her lap.

She feels the weight of the plate and looks down at her half-eaten food for a moment, then commences picking at it. “I’ve come to a decision,” she says between bites. Her voice is soft but clear.

“Oh?” I ask. “Please tell me you haven’t decided to wait for Merry to come around.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve waited eight years. That’s quite long enough. No, I’ve decided that I deserve better than Merry,” she says, surprising me that she has come to this conclusion so quickly. This will make my job much easier. “Of course, convincing my heart of that will be harder than convincing my head, but it is true enough. I can’t even remember why I fell for him in the first place; he hasn’t been very kind.”

“He certainly hasn’t,” I confirm. “You just tell yourself that every day until you believe it all the way through. And I’m going to tell you something else: you deserve better than Gordibrand as well. There are plenty of other biscuits in the jar as they say; we’ll find you a worthy lad. A lad who can actually admit when he has feelings for someone, unlike some other lads I could name.”

“A lad who doesn’t ignore me and isn’t afraid to make the first move,” Estella continues. “A lad who’s strong and kind and listens. A lad who doesn’t make jokes.”

“Exactly. A lad who will sweep you off your feet, but put you down again when you want him to,” I say. “There are plenty of lads eager to court you. We’ll go through them one by one until we find you a perfect match.”

“That could take a while,” Estella points out.

“We have all day, dear, and I came prepared. I even brought elevenses and luncheon,” I say happily and open the lid of the picnic basket to reveal the rest of the food. I then reach in and pull out several sheets of parchment, an ink bottle and quill.

“What is that for?”

“I made a list last night of all the eligible bachelors in the west and east Farthings.” Estella looks at me dubiously. “What? If we’re going to find you a suitable lad, we need to be strategic about this. All we need to do now is go through the list and consider all their good traits and bad, and their familial connections. That way, we’ll have a clearer picture of who we’re looking at and weed out all the undesirable ones,” I explain.

Estella laughs, a sweet sound after so much crying. “You certainly have thought this out,” she says. “Methinks you’re spending too much time listening in on Pippin’s lessons.”

I blush at the tease, but it’s true enough. “I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know, but you do so in the most amusing ways at times.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a strategy,” I defend. “Even Mum has a plan when there’s a banquet and some such.”

Estella laughs and leans over to peck my cheek. She rests her head on my shoulder. “I know, dear. I wasn’t poking fun. So, who’s on the list?”

“I thought we’d begin in Budgeford and work our way out, disregarding Buckland of course,” I say and start with the first name. “What do you think of Paolo Chubb?”

“He’s twice removed!” she exclaims, sitting up again.

“So?”

“He’s far too old.”

“Fine, fine. Well, if we’re going to go by age as well…” I trail off and go over the list, scratching out a few more names. “Now, what about Alsterson Boffin? He’s only once removed,” I suggest.

“I’ve not spent much time with him,” Estella says uncertainly. “He’s a quiet sort.”

“All the better. You won’t have to constantly tell him to be silent,” I point out.

“Vinca! You want a lad you can talk to, about anything. You can tell him your dreams, your fears, all of it, and he’ll do the same. That’s the ideal,” Estella lectures.

“If that’s what you want,” I say obligingly. “I’ve seen Alster speak for quite a while when he’s a mind to. He has a birthday coming up, yes?”

Estella nods. “We’ll be going.”

“Try talking to him then, but by all means don’t force the chap. If there’s nothing there within the first minute or so, then he’s not the one for you,” I say. “Now, what about Morrison Bridgeford? Your parents will certainly approve of him; he’s from a very affluent family.”

“He is nice, but he spends most of his nights visiting the inns from what I hear,” Estella comments with a frown. “He’s also courted three different lasses in the last year alone.”

We go through the list one by one. Some lads are crossed off the moment we get to them and others we spend quite some time over, considering all the potentialities. All through elevenses and luncheon, we weigh the good against the bad of each lad, until the list is narrowed down to eighteen. Now we go through them again, getting more specific and considering family connections while we’re at it. This brings the list to seven and I nod at the names that remain.

“These are very fine lads indeed,” I say and smile over at Estella.

She’s smiling also, but her smile is subdued and contemplative. She considers the list and bites on the inside of her lip.

“What?” I ask, knowing already I’m not going to like what I hear.

“Don’t be angry,” she starts, confirming my suspicion. “I thought about it hard last night and after going through this list, while these are good lads, I can’t help but think I’d be better off with Gordi after all.”

“Don’t say that,” I say.

“Why ever not?” she asks. “Everything we’ve said a good lad should be, he is. He’s kind, dependable, attentive, and caring. He has a sense of humor without being a jokester. He listens to me and we can have the longest talks at times. He’s even willing to move over the River for me so Fatty will be able to visit. Plus, I already know him. I’m comfortable with him. What more could you hope for?”

“But you don’t love him,” I point out.

“I never let myself love him,” Estella corrects. “Somewhere in the depths of my heart, I was always clinging to the hope that Merry might show some sense someday, but now…” She breaks off, her voice quivering slightly. She takes a moment to compose herself again before continuing. “I am fond of Gordi. I think I could love him if I tried. At least, I have to give him a fair chance. It’s what he deserves.”

“But, isn’t his sister courting Berilac?” I ask, trying another tactic. “Won’t that be a bit… awkward.”

“I’m sure there will be holidays that we’ll be celebrating at Brandy Hall,” she answers. “We’ll just have to steer clear of Merry. It shouldn’t be too hard; I’ve years of experience with it, after all. This is what I want.”

“Ella,” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.

“No, I am decided on this. When he arrives on Sterday, I will beg some time alone with him and tell him everything,” Ella says. “If he’ll still have me after what I’ve done, I will accept his proposal and we will announce our engagement at dinner. If he won’t, we’ll come back to your list.”

There is no talking her out of it, I can tell. She has that determined expression in her eyes and her shoulders are set, unbending. All I can do now is wait.  

I stay with Estella all that day and the next, watching her discreetly to ensure she is happy with her decision. She practiced with me what she is going to say to Gordi, so I know she’s set on doing this. She seems satisfied enough with her plan and becomes more carefree as the week comes to a close. By the time I see her to her room on Highday night, she’s positively humming, if a bit on edge about tomorrow.

I am making my way back to my apartment, trying to determine if this is truly for the best and knowing my opinion matters for naught, when someone suddenly grabs me from behind and pulls me into an empty sitting room. I twirl around, my heart in my throat, only to find that it is Everard.

“Ev!” I exclaim hotly and smack him on the arm. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically and reaches up to rub his arm. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” I say in turn, “but what did you do that for?”

“I had a question," Ev says. "What about pink or yellow roses?”

It takes me a moment to register what he had said. “What? Roses?” I ask, completely flustered. “I never know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you think of them?” he elaborates.

I gawk at him for a moment, as best as I can through the dark, trying to figure out what exactly has got into that head of his, which admittedly could be almost anything. It’s always a fruitless endeavor, trying to figure out what he is about, so I give it up and answer him. “I like them well enough.”

“But they’re not your favorite?”

“No, my favorites are dahlia, crimson and gold. Why?”

“Those are summer flowers, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he hums. He’s quiet for a moment. It’s difficult to see his expression and impossible to guess what he is thinking. After a time, I hear him shift his weight from one foot to the other and suddenly, he’s a step closer. “I’m sorry about the other day,” he says softly. “You just seemed ready to start a fight with someone, and considering who that someone was, I thought it’d be best if you took it out on me instead.”

I narrow my eyes at him, not that he can see me do this. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on the day before. “What do you know of all this?” I ask.

“Just what Fatty has told me,” Ev answers. “I finally had a good long talk with him yesterday. I didn’t know it was as serious as all that. I tried catching Merry to speak with him myself before he left, but he and Pippin have been awfully close of late. It’s difficult to get a word with either one of them anymore.”

“Do you know of any reason Merry would deny Ella?” I ask.

“No. It makes no sense to me. Anyone with eyes that can see knows he’s in love with her,” Ev answers, and I know he’s telling the truth. I nod acceptance to this and sigh dejectedly. I feel his hand on my shoulder, heavy but gentle, and soothingly warm. “She’ll come through this, Per.”

I nod. “I know, Ev,” I say, though I don’t believe it, not yet. I will have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. On my honor, if Gordibrand denies Estella, there will be one less hobbit in the dining hall at dinner.

Ev removes his hand from my shoulder and opens the door. He looks back at me and the lit sconces in the tunnel dimly illuminate his face, casting him in soft orange and red. “You know, you’re the only one who calls me Ev. No one else bothers to shorten my name.”

“You can blame your mother for that,” I reply. “Do you mind it?”

“No. I quite like it actually.”

I smile. “Good,” I say. “You’re the only one who calls me Per. Why is that?”

Now he smiles and lowers his head bashfully. “Oh, no reason. I just like the sound of it, I suppose; like a contented cat that’s curled up, sleeping in your lap,” he answers, and I feel my face warm at the comparison and bless the darkness of the room that he can’t see it also. He clears his throat and nods towards the tunnel. “I’d best be going. Good night, Per.”

“Good night, Ev.”

And just as suddenly as he appeared, he’s gone.  

I do not get much sleep that night. I spend the late hours worrying about tomorrow, imagining every possible way things might end. At best, Estella will realize she’s been in love with Gordibrand all the while, and Gordi will have no qualms with coming in second so long as he has Estella to call his own, and everyone will be happy. At worst, Gordi shuns her, Ella is crushed completely, and the two families end up at feuds.

In between worrying over my friend, I keep returning to Ev’s odd behavior and the way he had looked as he stood in the doorway, half in shadow and half in soft candlelight, smiling so shyly, which is quite unlike him. Yet this is quite typical of our relationship, if you can call it that. One moment, we are bickering like dogs over a bone, and the next we are getting along as though it is the most natural thing. We never seem able to simply meet in the middle somewhere and it’s more than a bit frustrating.

Unable to make odds or ends of either dilemma, I give up trying to figure anything out and turn onto my side, and drift into forgetful sleep.  

Gordi and his family arrive at noon. They meet Estella and her family in the dining hall for luncheon and I watch from a distance as Estella leans over to Gordi and whispers in his ear. He nods, then everyone sits to eat.

I itch to get up and join them, but there is no way my mother will let me get away with that. So all through luncheon, in between bites of food and sips of tea, I sneak peeks at Estella’s table. Their parents are talking away, for the most part ignoring their children. Fatty is eating enough food to feed three hobbits. Estella is subdued, picking at her food and squeezing her dining cloth into an unrecognizable bundle of thread. Gordibrand is keeping conversation with his sister, Ivory, but he sits close to Estella, occasionally reaching under the table to prevent her from destroying the cloth completely. His back is to me, so I cannot see his expression to read his thoughts.

Luncheon inches to a close, then Gordibrand stands and offers his arm to Estella. She accepts, and after a few words with their parents, they walk out of the hall alone. I desperately want to follow, but I keep my seat. I have to allow them this time on their own and besides, Estella will find me later to tell me all that happened. I check my pocket for a handkerchief, just in case, and excuse myself to my room.

I attempt to distract myself by making a sketch of Estella as she had looked the day before under the birch trees, but the attempt is in vain. My mind refuses to settle into the task and I end up fidgeting the whole while. I pace about my room, picking things up, turning them over only to put them down again. I avoid the clock to the best of my ability, but find myself sneaking glimpses at it all the same. 12:49. 12:52. 12:55. Ugh! Why must it go so slow!

Finally, at 2:13, just when I’m readying to charge out of the room to hunt down my friend, my door opens and Ella enters. “Well?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe.  

They had gone to the rose garden and sat in front of Mum’s special roses, where Pippin was supposed to have taken Merry if he hadn’t been trying to give us the slip. They had sat down, and after a moment’s silence, Gordi had turned to her.  

“What’s the matter, El?” he asked. “You’re on edge with worry.”  

“I have something I need to speak with you about,” was all Ella could manage to get out.  

Gordi nodded. “I assumed as much.” He placed his hand lightly over hers, not pressing but supportive. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”  

Estella wasn’t sure how she started, but suddenly she was pouring the story out, from its very beginning on the distant banks of the Brandywine and that long ago day she and Merry first kissed. She didn’t stop until she came to the present moment, to the admission she knew she needed to make. Gordi remained silent throughout, and his hand remained where it was. He had inched closer to place his other arm around her shoulders during the course of the story to offer further support.  

“And then, just three days ago, I found Merry alone in the morning,” Estella said, her voice shaking with her effort to control herself. “I told him… I told him that I love him, and I kissed him. … I told him I would deny you if he would have me.”  

Now Gordi stiffened, but he still did not move. He gulped his emotion down, his eyes now glued to the ground, and asked, barely audible, “And what did he say?”  

“He would not have me,” Estella answered, just as softly.  

The silence stretched thin, until Estella thought she would not be able to withstand it a moment longer. Then Gordi had said, “Do you no longer wish to be with me? Did you ever?”  

Now Estella moved, covering his hand with her other. “I thought not, but I realize now I have not been fair to you. I do care for you, Gordi. I will love you if you will still have me, but I will understand if you no longer wish to be with me.”  

The silence that followed was the longest. Gordi finally stood, leaving Estella’s side to pace a bit and then stand staring at the roses, lost in thought for endless minutes. Estella had waited, hardly daring to breathe or stir, until Gordibrand turned back to look at her.  

“Had I known I was competing with Merry Brandybuck this whole time, I would have been more charming,” he said, his voice tight but not unkind. “You hurt me with your actions, El, but your words pierce right through me.”  

“Gordi, I-”  

“No, I let you have your say. Now let me have mine.” Gordi waited for Estella’s nod, then came to sit beside her again, though he did not touch her now. “I’ve loved you for years, and it hurts beyond words to know you did not feel the same, that you’ve misled me all these years when you were merely waiting for him, and it’s only now that he’s denied you, you will accept my affections as the consolation prize. You have been less than unfair. You used me Estella, used me as your patsy while you pined away for what you really wanted.”  

Estella could only nod and lower her head in shame. Gordi stood again and walked back to the roses. He fingered a petal absently and continued. “You tell me now that you can love me, but how can I ever trust that? How will I know that when you say the words, they are the truth?”  

“Because I will not speak them until they are,” Estella promised. “I was cruel, I know, and there’s no excuse for it other than I’m terribly weak and more than a bit foolish, but have you never done anything foolish for love?”  

“You’re not weak, Estella, and as for foolish… Well, we can all be accused of that,” Gordi answered. “For I’m a fool as well, because I knew you were holding back from me and I was too afraid of the answer I might get to ask you why. So I was cruel in my own way and twice the fool as you.”  

“So what happens now?”  

“Now? That depends on you, doesn’t it. Despite everything you just told me, I cannot imagine my life without you. I suppose being second choice is better than third, and if I’m going to come in second to anyone, it may as well be Merry. So I will meet your promise with this: we will not wed until the day you can tell me you love me, for I will not take you as a wife if you do not feel the same for me as I do for you. But should you come to realize you can never love me, please tell me.”  

Estella nodded, tears streaming down her eyes. “I would not wish to deceive you again.”  

Then Gordi had reached into his inner waistcoat pocket and removed a small box. “This isn’t how I planned to do this. There was going to be prose and maybe even if a bit of song if I worked up the courage.”  

“You can still sing.”  

“Perhaps another time.” He opened the box and inside was an opal raindrop pendant on a chain of gold. He knelt before her and held the gem toward her heart. “I love you, Estella, and there is no other lass I love more. Will you marry me?”  

“I will.”  

Gordi removed the necklace from the box and slipped it over her head. Estella had leaned in to kiss him, but he refused the attention. “That will do for now,” he said, and wiped the tears from her eyes.  

“I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that he trusts me again,” Estella tells me. “We’ve so much to work through but I’m confident that I can make this work.” She smiles giddily, more happy than I could have hoped to see her. “We’re betrothed.”

“Oh, Ella!” I exclaim and hug her tight, grateful to see her so happy. It’s all I ever wanted.
 
 
 
 

To be concluded…