A man's spirit is free, but his pride binds him with chains of suffocation in a prison of his own insecurities. ~ Jeremy Aldana

Chapter 36.

Winter's Bite.

It was the next day after Catrin's visit that Beatrice rode over to Elwyn's now rather popular tower. The wind was bitter and the ground wet and soggy from the muddy, slushy snow of last night. It was so bad that even though she had been riding on horseback, Beatrice's hem was covered in a thick layer of mud.

Raj met her at the tower and took the horse.

"The Sahib really does look forward to your visits," he softly said. "He has become very fond of you, Miss Morton."

For some reason, one quite unknown to Beatrice, she felt her face growing hot.

"I assure you, it is a mutual feeling," she stammered out beforing hurrying up the stairs. Argos, being an even greater muddy mess than his mistress, ran ahead of her and barked so loudly that by the time Beatrice had reached the door to the room, Elwyn had already opened it. The great dog jumped over him, covering him in mud and dirt. Elwyn had trouble getting the beast to settle down before could turn his attention to Beatrice.

"Not the sort of day you want to spend outside," he chuckled as he let her in.

"Not unless you love the mud and cold mixed together." Beatrice replied with a bright smile. "Though I am sure you've had to endure such weather, maybe even worse, during your years as a solider."

Elwyn glanced out the window. "It is one part of my life as an officer that I do not miss," he agreed. "Spending the night out in bitter weather was never fun."

Beatrice noticed the book on the table. "Brothers Grimm?" She questioned. "Since when have you taken up a love for children's fairytales?"

Reaching over, Elwyn stroked the book cover. "Some of those stories are not for children," he couldn't help from saying. "They had better water them down a bit if they hope convince folk to read the dark and rather devious tales to children at bedtime and not give them nightmares."

"I've never read them," Beatrice confessed. "But my stepsister lives and breathes that book. Although recently she's started reading the works of Thomas Clarkson and perhaps now those poor brothers have a bit of a rival." Beatrice reached over for the book and Elwyn allowed her to take it. She studied it for a bit. "If I didn't know better," Beatrice said in a rather puzzled voice. "I'd could have sworn this book was Cadie's. I gave her one just like this as a present...but no, that is impossible."

"Not quite," Elwyn replied. "It is your stepsister's book. She brought it over yesterday for me to read."

The book clattered to the floor and fell in a rough way with pages sprawled out as Beatrice stared up at Elwyn.

"I beg your pardon?" She stammered out.

Elwyn couldn't keep from chuckling as he stooped down and gently lifted the book, smoothing out the slightly crumpled page corners. "Your stepsister Miss Catrin Llewelyn paid me a surprise visit yesterday. We got to talking about fairytales and she offered to lend me her copy to which I had no objection. Kind, unselfish soul that she is, Miss Llewelyn returned within the hour to lend the book. She's a very sweet girl, I liked her very much."

Despite the fact that she was a guest Beatrice plopped down rather unceremoniously into a chair. Catrin? Catrin had dared to climb up here and talk alone with a man she didn't know? That was so unlike anything her stepsister would ever do. To be sure, Catrin was showing a new level of boldness, but this was beyond anything that girl was capable of. No matter how much she stood up for herself, going against propriety was still a taboo as far as Cadie was concerned.

"What...made...her..." Beatrice stammered out.

A soft laugh escaped from Elwyn's lips as he poured his stunned visitor and friend a glass of water.

"It is not in her nature I take it," he said, sitting down himself. "But it was her love for you that brought her up here to speak with a stranger she'd hardly heard about." Getting up, Elwyn fetched the book from where he had placed it on the table.

"Irony, in all fairytales the stepsisters are mean and hate the poor heroine for no good reason. Usually it's because she's prettier or smarter or whatever. Another ironic thing is the stepsister never gets that happy ending. I found myself wondering, as a read some of the tales here, if those stepsisters had been kinder, more understanding, more open to the heroine, do you think it might have ended up better for them?"

Beatrice blinked at Elwyn. The situation with Catrin was very sensitive to her and she found it very insulting that Catrin had come over here to gossip about it with Captain Fleets. And now he had the nerve to bring it up, and to use such a comparison!

"Of all the things to do," she muttered.

In reply Elwyn laughed. "When you come up here and tell me how and what I am doing wrong you never thought it arrogant to say things about a life that you had no buisness meddling in. But when someone dares to touch your personal life you get upset and think it unfair. Human nature. Such a strange thing it is. Miss Llewelyn did not come here to gossip, she never even told me what you fought over. I am of the opinion she came because she needed a friend to counsel with and you had closed your heart to her. Miss Morton," Elwyn leaned forward. "Don't let a slip of the tongue estrange you from your stepsister, whom you have often told me is the only family you have left. Don't let the dragon divide and conquer."

The last sentence had a strange effect on Beatrice. A spark appeared in her eye and she caught Elwyn's gaze. Divide and conquer. Of course! If Beatrice turned against Catrin it would a great victory for Mamma. And it wasn't like Catrin had said those words out of contempt. She was trying to stand up for herself, something Beatrice had always encouraged. And how many times had Beatrice said some silly things about Catrin behind her back, and sometimes to her face. Yet Catrin had never held it against her. Catrin loved and forgave angry, bitter Beatrice; and always sought to comfort her.

"If you can't love unconditionally, Miss Beatrice Morton," Beatrice thought to herself. "Than you do not deserve Catrin at all. She's been your only support for so long and you can't let go of the first time she's ever said anything about you like that."

A smile spread across her face and Beatrice gave a little nod. "Thank you, Captain, you are right. It was a trifle thing we quarreled about, and there is no point in letting the dragon get the better of that."

"So you both fight it?"

Beatrice sighed and nodded. "In our own way, yes. Only I can see Catrin will defeat it one day."

"But not you?"

"Not me." Beatrice shook her head. "Never me."

Elwyn reached over and took Beatrice's hand. "But why, Miss Morton, why? What is the point of fighting if you are not in it to win?"

Beatrice didn't have an answer to this question and turned the subject to other matters.

***

The days turned to weeks and the rather dreary and bleak season of winter rolled on. For Beatrice, who ever since her coming out had spent her winters in London, it was a wonderful experience. Relieving the happy childhood she had had on Derwen Goch before the untimely and unfortunate death of Mr. Llewelyn.

She and Catrin spent the days drawing or making music. Colonel Blethyn was faithful in visiting and he kept the evenings interesting. And of course Beatrice never failed to visit Elwyn in his tower at least twice a week. Now that Catrin knew him personally as well, it gave the girls many reasons to speak of him and speculate who he was and where he had come from and what his past was. Without knowing it, Elwyn had become another thing that drew the bond between the stepsisters even tighter.

There was only one thing that truly spoiled winter for Beatrice.

"I just hate that my birthday is two months away," she complained to Catrin as they sat staring at the Christmas tree. "Mamma is already making all sorts of plans. She always held a grand ball in London and just because this year we are wintering here it will make little difference. My uncle will come from London and you can be sure Mamma will invite the Duke of Denster along with his son and all sorts of other people. I hate large crowds. I wish we could have a small, private celebration and that is all. I'm tired of being paraded like a poodle on display. She's been doing it for nearly six years now."

Catrin gave a sympathetic smile. "I suppose telling her you do not wish for a grand ball won't do any good?"

"Not at all. When it comes to balls and getting me married, Mamma is stubborn as an ox! I'll just have to put on a brave face and get it done and over with. On the bright side, if Lord Woodworth does come we shall know why he has been keeping so silent all this time. No word at all?"

"None." Catrin let out a sigh. "I wonder what am I getting myself into. I used to dream about love and marriage but now that I'm getting mixed up in it, I feel as though perhaps it is something best left in a story book."

Beatrice looped her arm around Catrin's. "Don't run from it just because it seems a little frightening. That is not the Llewelyn way. Your father never ran from anything. He not only faced it head on, but he always did it with such a wonderful senes of humor. And speaking of storybooks, do you think perhaps Captain Fleets has finished reading your book?"

"That is what I ought to ask you, Bea. You are the one who goes over to see him."

"I'll ask him next time I go. Oh I do wish I could just spend my birthday with just you and him instead of a host of snobby, stuck up, proud members of high society. They can be so insufferable. Even you, who sees the good in everything can't argue with that!"

"No," Catrin shook her head. "I can't. But cheer up, dearest Bea, perhaps it shan't be that bad."

"Just you wait," Beatrice glumly stated, gasting her gaze at the fire. "This will be the sixth 'hurry and get Beatrice married' ball. I know what they are all about and I dread it. You'll understand when you live through it. One day I'll....well...never mind." Beatrice broke off, knowing she would never be able to stand up to her mother concerning the ball. There were limits that Beatrice could not cross with her strong, cunning mother. There was always something Mrs. Llewlyn could use or twist to get Beatrice to do certain things she wanted.

Catrin gazed with pity at her stepsister, and before she knew it, a plan was forming in her head.

***

The door to his room opened and Elwyn looked up, hoping it was Beatrice. Instead the tall, handsome, proud figure of his uncle strode in.

"So you remembered the outcast," Elwyn stated, turning back to his book.

Iestyn walked over to where his nephew sat. "So," he stated in his deep voice, one that commanded authority and was full of pride and self-esteem. "You truly have taken up reading as a hobby. Probably a good thing, since the rest of your life is completely useless."

The words made Elwyn jerk his head up. "What was the point in saying that, Uncle?"

"Elwyn, Elwyn, Elwyn," Iestyn said in a sad voice. "I look at you and I am filled up with pity. I go out into society all the time and must like that the Earl is away in Italy because of bad health. Instead the Earl sits here and does nothing with his life. It's a waste, Elwyn, a waste. I hardly think your father would have approved."

"Father never approved of my running off to the army either," Elwyn snapped. "I don't need you to come here and tell me how you feel sorry for me. I know my life is a waste without you reminding me!"

"Then why sit here, my boy? Come out into the world. So your face is hideous, so half your body is a melted, scarred heap of skin. Many a girl could put up with you for the sake of your title. You know how women are. They will do anything to have money, even live with a monster."

Elwyn stared back at this book. The mask, the uniform, the glove, how well it hid the truly frightful sight that made up the left side of his upper body. "I'm not a monster," he whispered, more trying to convince himself than his uncle.

"Oh I never meant it literally," Iestyn hurried to reassure. "I am only trying to get you out of this tower."

"Why? So the world can whisper behind my back of the ruined wretch that I am?"

"They certainly will whisper all sorts of things, but at least..."

"At least what? Let us say I am able to convince a girl that I never remove my mask and never undress and she agrees to marry me to become a Countess. I marry and my wife gets herself some poor, handsome lover? While I waste my money on whores, paying them to tell me that I am more human and less monster? You've seen the scars this mask hides, Uncle. Tell me, and tell me straight, will any girl in her right mind ever come to love me in spite of them? Will she learn not to mind? I need an honest to God answer from you."

The question had been worded exactly the way Iestyn needed. "No, Elwyn, of course not," he said in a soft, pitiful voice. "You have seen yourself as well as I have. It would give anyone nightmares. You are what you are, deformed, ruined beyond repair. Half human, half someting else. Your only hope now is what your money and your title will buy you."

"And we both know it cannot buy love," Elwyn stated. "I will not leave this tower, Uncle, to be mocked and hated."

Iestyn shrugged and stood up. "Very well, waste away. But think of this, locked up as you are, no one will miss you when you die. The world lives without you now, the world doesn't care about you now. What is the point of living then?"

Their eyes met, Elwyn looking up at his uncle.

"Elwyn," Iestryn said in a quiet voice. "There is no point in such a life. There is no point in it at all. Live today and no on will care; die today and no one will care. No one will care."

He put his hand on his nephew's shoulder and walked away, taking what little hope Elwyn had been clinging to all summer with him.