“Well, it’s Herminia you must mention, not yourself. It’s his relationship with her you’ve got to talk about. That’s the first step, and I think you should talk to him as soon as possible. You know I wish you all the luck in the world.”
Miss Prim remained lost in thought for a few moments before drawing her feet away from the fire and pulling her long socks and boots back on. She looked at her host solemnly.
“You have a wonderfully feminine mind, Horacio. No, don’t object, please. I know you don’t consider it a compliment. But I do. I consider it a great compliment.”
Before her friend could say anything, the doorbell rang. The gardener had arrived and the evening was at an end.
Miss Prim slept badly that night. How could she have been so impulsive? Confessing at last that she cared for her employer had brought no relief. Instead, she felt terribly agitated. Putting her feelings into words seemed to have magnified them excessively. The women of San Ireneo de Arnois, though well intentioned, had interpreted them as a declaration of love, almost a marriage proposal. Why else would an old lady like Lulu Thiberville have explained the principles of a successful union? Prudencia was worried that the ladies of San Ireneo would now start working on marrying her off to the Man in the Wing Chair. Had nobody ever told them that not all attractions between men and women led to a relationship? Did they not know by now that not all relationships ended in marriage? Miss Prim’s views on marital union had grown more moderate with time, but that didn’t mean she was a wholehearted supporter of it. And there were other factors to consider. What if her employer found out about the conclave at Hortensia’s? What if she was simply wrong and he had not the slightest interest in her?
Overwhelmed by these worries, she jumped out of bed, put on a coat over her dressing gown, and crept quietly out of her room. The house was completely still. She crossed the landing, tiptoeing past the children’s bedrooms, and went downstairs to the large hall on the ground floor. The front door was unlocked, as was the custom in San Ireneo. Locked doors were considered a snub to one’s neighbors.
As she entered the garden an icy blast of wind took her breath away. Shivering, she reckoned she could stay outside for about five minutes. It was something she’d done since she was a child. When she couldn’t sleep she got up in the middle of the night and went outside, remaining there until wind, rain, or heat made her miss the comfort of her bedroom. Then she’d go back in and sleep peacefully till morning.
“Prudencia, you have an odd habit of braving the cold in flimsy footwear. If I were you, I’d put on snow boots.”
Miss Prim turned with a start on hearing the voice of the Man in the Wing Chair.
“Did I wake you?” she asked. “I’m so sorry, I tried to be as quiet as possible.”
He smiled gently, drew his coat tightly around him, and blew on his hands to warm them.
“You didn’t; I’m always awake at this hour.”
“A real night owl,” said the librarian with a teasing grin.
“More like a sheepdog. Eksi has nightmares sometimes and wakes up crying at around two or three. She’s the most fragile lamb in my flock.”
“Really? I’ve never heard her.”
“She cries very quietly. You have to be awake to hear her.”
Miss Prim nodded thoughtfully before vigorously rubbing her hands.
“Why don’t we go back inside and have a hot drink? You’re frozen, Prudencia.”
“When you say a hot drink, do you mean a hot toddy?” she asked mischievously.
“I mean cocoa, chocolate, or hot milk with a dash of rum. Nothing that could go to your head.”
She laughed, and they went back into the house. The Man in the Wing Chair opened the door to the library, switched on a small lamp, and crouched in front of the fireplace to light a fire.
“There’s no need. It’s quite warm enough in here.”
“I know, but I just can’t conceive of a room in winter with an empty hearth. A fire is much more than heating, it’s the heart of a home.”
“I’m not going to argue,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Not at this time of night, and not if you’re offering to light it. Shall I make some cocoa?”
“That would be great,” he answered as he stoked the fire.
In the old kitchen, Miss Prim prepared the drinks. This was her chance to do as Horacio advised and ask her employer about his romantic history. As she slowly stirred the cocoa with a wooden spoon, she realized how very difficult this would be. How could she ask him about a relationship when, officially, she didn’t know about it? Of course, she reflected, there was really nothing out of the ordinary about her knowing. Not in a small place where everybody knew everybody else’s story.
When she returned to the library, a fire was blazing. She put the tray down on the tea table and settled herself in one of the armchairs, as did her employer. Then she poured two cups of cocoa, took a slice of cake, removed her slippers, and stretched her legs toward the fire.
“You’ve never told me that you and Herminia used to be a couple,” she said with studied nonchalance, not daring to look up from her cup.
He stirred his cocoa and took a sip before answering.
“There are lots of things about my life I haven’t told you. I didn’t realize I had to, but if it’s important to you I’m quite happy to start now.”
