Mira dropped her hands.
He stood before her, his head hanging, defeated.
She felt the coldness envelop her again and welcomed it. She withdrew deep into it, for it numbed something that could be pain.
She did not want to feel it.
"You are right. There are no words. For some things, there simply are no words." She drew in a shuddering breath. "You're alive. You're doing well. That is good. That is something one must be grateful for. I suppose... that's all that really matters." She turned to leave the shed.
"Where are you going?"
"I must return to the house before my absence is noticed," she said tonelessly. She'd completely forgotten about leaving.
He stepped up to her and took her icy hand in his. "We need to talk," he urged.
She supposed they should. It was what would be expected in a situation like this. But her mind refused to cooperate.
They had been so close, once. There had been a time when they could almost read each other's minds.
But now there was a gulf between them that was bigger than the chasm between the earth and the moon.
It was unbearable.
"I want to—I have to go now. Please." She pulled her hand away.
"You're still in shock. Tomorrow. I will come to the house tomorrow. Then we'll talk."
She nodded, turned, and walked unsteadily back to the manor. She did not turn to see Kit standing there, watching her go with an expression on his face that was heartbreaking.
Mira excusedherself from dinner and all other entertainment for the evening, claiming to have a headache.
It wasn't even a lie. Her head was throbbing wildly and her breathing still hadn't returned to normal.
"You look like you've seen a ghost. You aren't about to fall ill, are you?" demanded Lady Randolph. "Not so close to Christmas."
"Oh, you must not fall ill, Mira." Rose had accompanied her to her room. "There are the Christmas festivities coming up, and the ball, and it will be frightfully splendid, and I shall be absolutely terrified without you. I am sure I will faint with fright again. What shall I do if you are indisposed and can't attend any of it?"
"I shall be fine. I suppose all I need is some rest."
Then, alone in her huge room, a feeling of panic overcame her.
Perhaps none of it had happened?
Had her mind played tricks on her?
Maybe he'd been a figment of her imagination?
Maybe he'd left again?
Hands unpicked her clothes. She'd been bathed, a maid had brought up a lavish tray of food, and then she'd been tucked into the massive yellow bed, which had been pre-warmed.
She'd finally found Kit, after seven long agonising years.
But he was no longer her Kit. He was a stranger.
And now she wished it had only been a dream.
In her dreamsshe was back in Fowey, the Fowey of her childhood. She'd lived with Miss Pearson, who'd taken her in after her parents died and taught her reading and elocution.
