The Vespertine (19 page)

Dropping that card, I fished for another.
Pour presenter,
a stranger to me, so I moved to the next. Caleb's card, Mattie's card—one from an older lady whom I'd seen come into money, a note writ on the back to thank me—as if the windfall would come from my purse and not some distant relation. That card fluttered from my fingers as I reached for another, and another still. Little victories and mysteries in that box, all of my making, or soon would be.

Weary with myself, I reached in one last time. Thomas' card came up, and my heart warmed. I had never known it before, how the glow of someone else's joy could reflect so completely as to be shared.

Skimming my thumb across the deep-set engraving of his name, I smiled to myself as a faint band of gold slipped through the window.

"Amelia," Mr. Stewart said, shaking me.

With a jerk, I looked up, the thinnest veil of a headache come over me. "Yes, sir?"

"Dinner's nearly ready. You might clean up that mess before Mrs. Stewart sees it." He made a face for me, pretending to cut his finger across his throat. Always his eyes laughed and danced, and he whistled merrily as he went off.

Pushing the chair back, I gazed at all the calling cards spread on the table. Instead of an ungainly heap, they sat face-down in columns, arranged four across. Face-down, indeed, but the verso sides had my writing on them now. A little pencil rolled away as I stood, as I leaned over to read helplessly.

In a family way,
I'd written on the back of a pink card I had no need to reverse to identify.
Boarding a ship,
said the next—that card belonged to Caleb.
New dress torn, carriage wheel broken, winning at poker.
All these fates in three and four words—they horrified me, for I had not the first memory of marking them.

And yet they amazed me.

The whole of a life pared to a scrawl on the back of a calling card, one moment belonging alone to time—and to me.

Short a penny, riding a train,
I read, turning cards faster to match their fortune with their name.
Mother of twins, falling down stairs.
I didn't even think to tremble when I came to the last, I was only greedy to read it, to match it,
Dead by September.
Daring myself, I flipped it.

M
R
. T
HOMAS
R
EA
D
IVISION
S
TREET

The front door slammed, and Zora called out, "Rain's stopped a bit!"

Panic seized me but not in stillness. I scrambled to shove Thomas' card into my basque, then hurried to clear the rest before Zora caught a glimpse of any of it. Destroying the neat columns, I swept all the cards into their box, and I cursed the cold fireplace, for if I could have, I would have burned the whole lot.

"How pale you are," Zora said, flicking water from her manteau toward me. Then her gaze dropped and her bemused smile faltered. "Are you bleeding?"

"It's only a pinprick," I said, and fled up the stairs.

***

The rain poured on and on outside; it caressed the window in whispering rivulets, subtle percussion on the roof of the house. In our upstairs room, we heard it best, and though I had much heavy on my mind, I found I had to fight the pull of sleep.

"Do you know," I told Zora, looking over my shoulder at her, "I think it's funny that I've never looked for you or Thomas."

She hummed softly. Heels bumping mine, she didn't roll over, but she did turn her face up to be heard. "I wouldn't want to know. You saw Nella's wedding day, and now she'll anticipate it until it finally arrives."

"Is that so terrible?"

At that, Zora did roll over. She winced to find herself too close to my face, covering her nose with her hand and shifting back. "You smell of Mama's stewed cucumbers."

Sliding away from her, I said, "It's not just me."

Soft laughter shook the bed as Zora settled in again. Tucking her head in her arm, she tugged at the sheets as she mused aloud. "I want the wonder of it. I don't want to know that he
will
propose to me and impatiently wait for it to happen."

An ache bloomed in my chest. "You're not impatient now?"

"I'm not," Zora said, and she sounded as if she marveled a little at herself for it. "Truly, I'm not. Everything's extraordinary. And everything that isn't sweetens the rest."

The silver charm at my throat jabbed its points into my skin. "I'd want a warning for everything that isn't."

Slipping her fingers up between us, Zora pressed at a furrow I hadn't even realized I'd made in my brow. As if she could draw calm from the air, she smiled and rubbed at me until I settled. Pleased, she said, "Wasn't it the best dance, though? The first you danced after Nathaniel finally arrived?"

I rested my brow against her hand and sighed. "It really was."

"It's intolerable the way you moon. Do You want to talk about it tonight?" Zora pressed the bridge of my nose with her thumb, rather hard actually. "If You don't say anything, I'll only assume the worst and loathe him for you."

I rolled onto my back, better to gaze at the ceiling and betray nothing. If she would hear naught, I could warn Thomas instead. He'd take care, and all would be well. Banishing my thoughts on that, I sighed and said, "Don't loathe him. Or do. I run inconstant, or he is a monster—and I know not which."

"A monster?" Zora asked. She sounded more tickled than concerned. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but everything's the end of the world for you two."

"You were ready to have me abandon him for being late to a dance," I reminded her.

Raising her hands above us, Zora swayed and swirled, miming the putting on of a ring. "Hardly! I was ready to have you abandon him for making you miserable when he's not even a good prospect! If You can't marry him, he should at least make you deliriously happy until the end."

Thunder rolled across the roof and across my skin. Very like the vibration from running up the monument, it stirred my memories. It was true—I found them much sweeter for the disaster that came after. Few could say they dared to leap so readily as I had, but I wondered if anyone should.

"Amelia?" Zora asked, rubbing her elbow against mine. "Are you there?"

"Only contemplating the end of the world, that's all."

"What did happen, then?"

With a great heave, I threw myself on my face and buried the answer in my pillow. "He asked me to jump, and I did." The whole bed shook when Zora rose up. Clapping her hands on my shoulders, she shook me until I had no choice but to roll to face her.

"You're making me mad with all this intrigue."

I clasped her arms to still her. "He loves me; I made him say it."

"And did
you
say it?" She seemed round as a soap bubble, impossibly full and fragile just then.

"No," I said, covering my face with my hands. "Tomorrow at the park, I might. Or I might not. Do You think I'm terrible with him?"

Zora rolled her eyes, impossibly lovely in her exasperation. "Essentially, yes. But you're terrible without him. May as well resign yourself to it."

"Am I really?"

"I'm going to take my two hands and smother you," Zora said, laughing. "Make up your mind!"

It was oddly comfortable, knowing she thought I was foolish. I looked in fire and saw the future; Nathaniel went on the winds. Should we both be monsters or not, it seemed we were infinitely suited. Soothed with that balm, I said, "Easier if you made it for me!"

The great crash the bed made when Zora fell back in it again was the last provocation Mrs. Stewart needed. In the room below, she thumped her ceiling. "Enough, you circus monkeys!"

Zora giggled and kept her tongue just a moment, then rolled toward me again to whisper in my ear, "If you should elope, tell me. Thomas and I will come and make it double."

A sickness seeped into my chest again, but I forced a smile and said, "I shall, I promise."

B
ECAUSE OF THE RAINS
, we couldn't lounge so leisurely at the park. We flocked like birds, standing on the walk as we took our turns at the bow, then hurrying back to shake our hems dry.

"I've only got six now!" Sarah scowled at Zora as she bounded off to retrieve yet another lost arrow.

Disappearing into the brush, Zora called back, "It's not lost yet!"

"You know," I told Sarah. "If You married a man with a good trade, you should be able to afford all the arrows you like. You could have them instead of pins for your hair."

Agitated as she paced the walk, Sarah swung round to face me. "It pleases me to know that I bought my own arrows, thank you."

"With the pennies you got for your birthday," Mattie said, then added, "When she was ten. They're ancient, you know."

Mattie kept her laughter very quiet and confidential between us. More resilient than I'd credited her for, she took the most darling delight in watching our sportswomen bicker between shots. Mainly, I did the job of holding the quiver. Though I had taken a shot or two, I didn't buck to have my turn next. Unlike Zora, I knew I was rather bad at it.

"Oy," someone called, flouting all good manners, and we three turned toward the voice. Caleb raised his hand and strode toward us like he'd been invited. Though he stopped close to Sarah, he looked out at the target. "Still pulling to the left, I see."

"That's Mattie's shot," Sarah said.

"Oh," Caleb replied, as if placating her.

Heat flashed in Sarah's eyes, and she squared her shoulders. "I should like to see you best me."

Bounding out of the trees, Zora thrust her hand above her head in triumph. "Didn't I tell you I'd find it?"

"Brilliant," Sarah said. She lifted her skirts and stalked out to her spot before the target. I offered an arrow and a murmured wish of best luck.

On a full draw, Sarah looked so like a huntress goddess that it rather left me awestruck. I saw her take the breath she'd once advised me, before setting the arrow to flight. When it struck the heart of the centermost circle, her divinity fell away, and she whooped.

Clapping gleefully, Mattie cried, "Amazing!"

"You should call it a draw before you embarrass yourself," Zora told Caleb, hiding a smile.

With a sweet, mocking nod, Sarah offered Caleb the bow. "If it pleases you, Mr. Grey, could you show me how to improve my aim?"

"Oh!" Zora grabbed my elbow and started to pull me away.

"Have care," I said. "I've been mending lace a week now!"

"Our beaux are here," Zora answered, and I stopped caring about my lace entirely.

When I turned, my heart leaped to see the god-awful tartan of Nathaniel's jacket even before I saw him. The gold and green, despite the gilt and greenness of the summer season in Druid Hill Park, stood out.

With a giddy sort of relief, I decided that I might be inconstant after all, but when I smiled, he smiled, and I no longer cared if we might be monsters.

"We're astonished to find you here," Thomas told Zora with a smile. "Mr. Witherspoon came about this morning, and our only thought was to take in some sunshine lest it should rain again."

Slipping his hand into mine, Nathaniel added, "It was only a feeling I had, that this end of the park might make for more pleasant sightseeing."

The surge of my pulse left me near lightheaded, but it beat out apologies, mine to him, his to me, and I was only sorry now that we stood on a public walk. Two clasped hands, however scandalous, couldn't fulfill me for a reconciliation.

"Miss Holbrook is teaching Mr. Grey a lesson in humility, " Zora said, gesturing back at our party.

"That's the measure of a man's affection," Nathaniel said, hooking his finger inside my glove. He should have let go once we met—but then, there were a great many things Nathaniel and I should have done, that we never did.

"His keenness to prostrate himself before her?" Zora asked.

Scratching across my wrist, Nathaniel offered Zora a twisted smile. "And her avid desire to see it."

"I don't think it's necessary," Thomas said, and though we found the ground quite firm and certain beneath us, he put a hand on Zora's back as if to guide her over rough terrain. It seemed even the most gentlemanly of our circle could be coaxed into duplicity, and how charming he was at it.

"It's not," I said. Taking my hand from Nathaniel, I met his black eyes and offered my elbow instead. "That's the great appeal."

"Mad with power," Nathaniel said. His murmurs slipped into me, onto me, warming me in his familiar way. If he knew my thoughts, he knew my wanton, wilding desire to hide away with him. Longing felt like a thread, slipping between us, sewing us together.

Zora glanced over her shoulder. "Quite sensible with it, I think. "

Coming back to the contest at hand, Mattie returned the quiver to me and fluttered on the edges of our party. "Isn't it exciting?"

"Wildly," I said, but I could barely see Caleb draw his next shot.

I kept closing my eyes—as if I could will Nathaniel to carry us with the wind again. My few days' vacillation disappeared. Standing on his arm, taking the heat of his gaze, I knew if he asked it again, I would jump.

A hundred times, I would jump.

"The wind kicked up," Caleb complained as he squelched across wet earth to rejoin us. He held the bow out for Sarah but didn't release it to her grasp. Instead, he made her tug it, his nose crinkling at the little play of war before she wrested it away.

"I think the only wind about us," she said, as she turned to me for an arrow, "is the great hot one you're blowing."

"Oh, cruel," I said, handing her a feathered shaft. Mattie laughed and wrapped herself around my free arm, resting her chin on my shoulder. When Sarah took her position again, Mattie whispered to me, "Would you like to hear a secret?"

"Always."

"Caleb asked her hand." Mattie smiled and sighed, trying to sway with me, but Nathaniel kept me quite firmly grounded on the other side. I felt rather like a door, waving on a hinge between them.