The mansion appeared to be even more silent when Ethan and Christiana reappeared with Margaret and her husband. Once scorned servants were bowing to them with sincerity. The house itself seemed to have been given a deep breath, glad to have life breathed into it again.
Christiana traced the halls with its polished banisters, her fingers rubbing along them. The last time she walked here the air was full of the venom of Sophia. But now she was aware of the constant presence of Ethan by her side, and his hand gripping her, and it made her bold.
That evening the family had dinner together. Margaret burst into tears and offered apologies again and again, and her husband assured her that they will start with new beginnings. Ethan had not much to say, and when he said, he said with emphasis: We remain here on our conditions. Christiana and I are one."
The glow of his loyalty made the smile come to Christiana; but even as she smiled, the burden of his love became a little easier on her heart.
But in some other room Sophia was watching.
She was sitting before her mirror, and her crimson lips were trembling, and her hands were not steady as she reapplied her makeup. The laughter that was floating down the hall was like daggers in her. At one time she was the pride of the family and the focus of all the eyes. It appeared now that every eye had been turned.
Christiana, said she and dragged her comb through her hair. "Always Christiana."
She was like a shadow in the memory of the open rejection of Ethan. His voice, strong and deep in the middle of people: My place is with her. She still felt the jeers of the society who mocked her, pitied her, and took away her dignity which she could command previously.
Hot anger flamed in her breast. They believe that they will be able to revive them? As if nothing happened? As if I don't exist?" The comb fell in her hand and she started up.
Sophia was not able to fall asleep that night and roamed the halls. She could see them through the balcony, Ethan and Christiana, walking hand in hand through the garden in the moonlight. They stopped under the rose arch, and Ethan leaned over and whispered something that caused Christiana to laugh in a low voice. She rested her head on his shoulder, satisfied, with no fears.
The nails of Sophia pierced her palms. Each tender glance he paid Christiana was another suggestion of what she had lost. What she could never reclaim.
By the morning the mansion was ringing with the news of the return of Ethan and Christiana. Servants went with peculiar jubilation, and even the parents of Sophia felt more light, and were smiling more. But Sophia... her smiles were narrower, more piercing.
It was not until breakfast that she said anything. It appears we are all at home, again," she said in a sweet voice, and without taking her eyes off Christiana. "What a miracle. What a girl, the orphan! Who would ever have imagined that the orphan would rebuild our family?
They hurt, but Christiana bowed her head in a polite manner. Ethan, however, picked up the tone of Sophia. His jaw tightened. No one here is her less than Christiana. She has presented me with more than money can offer.
The resulting silence was brutal, and soon Margaret was shifting the topic, which compelled the discussion to return to more cheerful topics.
But the mind of Sophia was caustic.
Towards the end of the day she fled into her room with her heaving chest. Her walls that were her refuge were now closing in on her like a prison. She pulled off the ribbons on her hair, her eyes in the glass taunting her with her sleek curls.
"No," she hissed to herself. I will not disappear into the shadows. I will not allow her to rob me of everything.
Her eyes were flashing with a threatening determination. Had her parents decided on Christiana, had Ethan decided on Christiana, then she would make the world take notice of who Sophia was. She would not sit and allow the orphan girl the victory.
When the sun went down, the figure of Sophia was seen again in the shadows of the hall, following every action of Ethan and Christiana. Her smile was no more sweet, but cold, sharp, and inscrutable.
The game had changed. And Sophia was ready to play.