"He has already hurt you," Joyce said, deducing the situation on her own, "He can wait until you are ready."
But the thought of him standing in the entryway, refusing to go, was too much. She couldn't bear it.
"I can't," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't face him right now."
Daphne reached for her, but Alethea was already rising.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, "You really must excuse me."
"Alethea, wait.. " Felicity began, but she was already crossing the room.
The stairs blurred a little as she climbed them. When she reached the top, she paused, pressing a hand over her eyes, willing herself to steady her breathing. From below, she could hear low voices again. Her sisters were speaking to Oliver in the hall.
No.She could not stand to see him now. Her heart would not allow it.
And then she slipped into the nearest bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She turned the key in the lock, her hand lingering there a moment longer than necessary.
She pressed her back to the door and closed her eyes.
She knew she was being a coward. She knew it, and still she could not make herself go back down those stairs.
Because if she saw him, she wasn't sure whether she would be able to stay angry. And perhaps it was better to put them distance between them now, when she still had the chance.
Alethea had never felt so tired, and yet so incapable of sleep. She lay in the narrow guest bed, staring up at the ceiling. The rain had started in earnest an hour ago, tapping at the windows.
She turned her head on the pillow and watched the beads of water racing down the glass. It should have been a soothing sound, but all she could think of was him.
Was he still standing out there, just beyond the front steps, as he had been all evening?
The image lodged itself in her mind.
It was hard for her to wrap her head around the idea. What an entirely reckless thing to do, to stand out there when no one was coming out to see him? It was the sort of unreasonable thing she had never imagined him doing. And that was precisely why she could not stop thinking of it.
A quiet knock pulled her from her thoughts. Perhaps she was not the only one who could not get any sleep tonight.
"Alethea?" Daphne's voice was muffled but gentle. "May I come in?"
"Yes." She closed her eyes briefly, then pushed herself up to sit.
Anything would be better than her own thoughts at this moment. The door eased open and Daphne slipped inside, clad in a pale dressing gown. The worry was blatant across her face.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she began, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed. "But I couldn't go to bed without seeing you. How are you doing now? I was so worried that you had locked yourself in your room, at least I am happy that you had the sense to leave the door open now."
Alethea smoothed the coverlet beneath her palms. It was true, the act of locking herself in had been rather dramatic from her perspective. Even though she had not yet resolved the storm of her own feelings, she had decided to quit her tantrum and unlocked the door earlier on.
"I am all right," she said, though she knew how thin it sounded. "I keep telling you to not worry about me."
"Are you?" Daphne reached for her hand. "Because all signs point differently. I understand that you do not wish to speak about it. But it is only me here now, and perhaps you can confide in me. I promise not to tell anyone."
Alethea tried to meet her gaze but couldn't hold it for long. She considered her offer in her mind.
Out of all of her sisters, it was Daphne to whom she was closest to. And so, it only made sense for her to confide in Daphne.
"I don't know what good it would do to speak of it," she said softly. "I have turned it over in my mind so many times that I can scarcely tell what is true anymore."
"Sometimes," Daphne murmured, "saying a thing aloud helps you hear it properly."
"It feels like a betrayal," she admitted, "To speak of it to anyone, even you."
