But she could not think of any of that now.
Her heart was heavy. She felt that with every step she took she trod on it, increasing her pain.
Yet at the beginning of the afternoon she had been so hopeful that it could all end cheerfully and amicably. The fact that she loved him was of little significance. Given the circumstances of her life, it would have been strange indeed if she hadnotfallen in love with him. She would recover. How could she not? A happy marriage between them would be impossible for all sorts of reasons, and she would rather lose him altogether and forever than have anunhappymarriage with him.
But, oh, at the moment it was very hard to think such sensible thoughts. In an hour’s time she would think them, perhaps. Tonight she would think them, and next week, and next month. But now…
“I shall be making an early start for London in the morning,” he said as they turned onto Sutton Street and the school came into sight.
“Yes,” she said. “There cannot be much to keep a visitor in Bath, especially at this time of year.”
“I have spent a pleasant few days here, though,” he said.
“I am glad.”
They spoke to each other like cheerful, polite strangers.
“It has been good to see you again,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “we will meet again sometime.”
“Yes, that would be pleasant.”
Their footsteps slowed and then stopped altogether before they turned onto Daniel Street.
“Susanna,” he said, his hand covering hers on his arm, though he did not turn his head to look down at her. “I want you to know before I leave that Idocare for you. I know you do not like me half the time or approve of me the other half, but I do care. I think we were friends once. I think in many ways we still are. But when we became more than friends on that one afternoon, it reallywasmore. I was not just a lustful man taking advantage of being alone with an innocent woman. Icaredfor you. I know you do not want me or need me. I know you are happy with the life you have. But I think perhaps in some way you have cared too, and I wanted you to know that…Well. Was there ever a more muddled monologue, and just at the time when I most wanted to be eloquent and say something memorable?”
“Oh, Peter,” she said, clinging to his arm, “Idolike you. Of course I do. And of course I approve of most of what I see in you. How could I not? You are always so very kind. And I care for you too.”
“But not enough to marry me?” he asked her, still not looking at her.
“No.” It was easier just to say no than try to explain—it was impossible, anyway, to explain all her reasons. “I do thank you, but no, we would not suit.”
“No,” he said softly, “I suppose not. I will leave you here, then.”
“Yes.” Panic grabbed at her stomach, her knees, her throat. She slid her hand from his arm.
He turned then and took both her hands in his, squeezing them so tightly for a moment that she almost winced. He lifted them one at a time and set her gloved palms to his lips.
He raised his eyes to hers—and smiled.
“An already glorious November day has seemed warmer and brighter because of your presence in it,” he said, misquoting his very first words to her. “Thank you, Susanna.”
And so he drew a smile from her even though her heart was breaking.
“Foolish,” she said. “Ah, foolish.”
And somehow they both laughed.
“Good-bye, Peter,” she said.
And because she could not bear any more, she dashed with ungainly haste around the corner and up to the door of the school, and she lifted the knocker and let it fall with more force than was necessary.
She glanced toward the corner as Mr. Keeble opened the door, but there was no one there. She stepped inside, and the door closed behind her.
And now it seemed to her that there was nothing left to live for. Nothing at all. She was in too much distress to notice the melodrama of the thought.
