“Watch her walk away,” Heathcliff said through gritted teeth. “See how her body stiffens at his touch? See how she shrinks away as he leans close?”
I followed his gaze to Christina and Professor Hathaway as they ascended the staircase, squinting as I tried to follow her movements. My shrinking peripheral vision limited what I could see, but I thought I saw her step outward in order to place another inch of space between her arm and his.
“I think I see what you mean,” I whispered. “But I don’t understand what it has to do with Hindley.”
“He does not see her,” Heathcliff whispered, his voice tight. “He only sees what he wants to see. The pain he causes because of his own misery will break her, too.”
I cast my mind back toWuthering Heights, to Heathcliff’s hatred for the man who terrorized him, how it was that hatred, combined with the pain of Cathy’s death, that trapped Heathcliff in his destructive pattern. He was saying that Christina was trapped by her father’s Regency ideals, and I had to agree.
A shudder rocked through Heathcliff’s body. A line of sweat streaked across his brow. A thunderstorm raged inside his eyes as he stared ahead at the spot where Hathaway and Christina had been.
I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Oi, come back to me. That wasn’t Hindley.”
Heathcliff blinked. “What?”
“You went somewhere else for a moment. I think you believed Christina’s fatherwasHindley.”
Heathcliff ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Yes. I did. His manner to his daughter… the way he sought to control her… I’m back now. I think it’s all these costumes, all this grandeur. It’s doing my head in.”
“Come on,” I grabbed Heathcliff by the hand. “No more thinking of Hindley. We’ve not at Wuthering Heights now. This is Jane Austen, where all can be forgiven with a ball and a marriage proposal. If we’re to attend the dance tomorrow, you’re going to need to know all the moves.”
Chapter Twelve
“Ow,” Heathcliff muttered as I trod on his foot again.
“You don’t have to say that every time I stand on you,” I muttered as Heathcliff and I crossed places. “It doesn’t hurtthatmuch.”
“You’re not the one whose shins are being battered around by steel-capped toes,” Heathcliff growled as he turned around the man behind him. I turned too, only I got the direction wrong, and ended up spinning right into a woman’s shoulder. “At least now we know why women wore those dainty slippers. It’s so they didn’t hobble the men in the room.”
“You’re such a twat.” I stretched out my hand to meet him again in the middle. “Shut up and spin me.”
As I ducked under Heathcliff’s arm in an awkward circle, Morrie and Lydia glided past us, lifting their arms as they crossed over to swap partners.At least someone’s having no trouble at all learning the moves.I glowered at them both as I swung around Heathcliff and stood on his foot again. It didn’t surprise me – Morrie had to control every aspect of his life, so of course he’d have a perfect sense of rhythm and grace.
As he turned back to the set, Morrie’s eyes met mine. What I saw there startled me. He lookedfrightened.
Weird.Fear was not an emotion on Morrie’s radar. Even when he’d leaped out at Darren as he tried to stab me, his eyes blazed with a kind of brutal intensity. Morrie knew exactly what he was doing at every moment. He had a solution for everything. He never had a reason to feel fear.
What about this dance has him so on-edge?My mind flashed back to the letter Morrie received earlier this week, the letter that he refused to explain to anyone.It can’t have anything to do with this ball, can it?
Still thinking about Morrie, I lost my step and crashed into David.
“Yeooow!” David winced, breaking his Regency cool to grab his injured foot, which was encased only in a buckled fabric shoe. He’d finally given up hope of anyone attending his numismatics lecture and joined the dancing fifteen minutes ago, a decision he was probably right this moment regretting as he hobbled across the dance floor. He knocked into Cynthia, sending her sprawling into a waiter, who knocked a tray of glasses.
“I’m sorry!” I bent down to help Cynthia to her feet.
“Thank you, Mina.” Cynthia dusted off her muslin gown. “My, this dancing is harder than I imagined.”
“You were supposed to gounder,” Heathcliff smirked at me. “Not go down and take everyone in the room with you.”
“I’ll do it better next time,” I grumbled, watching Morrie and Lydia spinning away. I couldn’t see his face.
“No, you won’t. We’re getting off this dance floor before you put someone’s eye out.” Heathcliff took me under the arm and dragged me off. Behind me, the dancers applauded.
Ingrates.
I dragged Heathcliff toward the front of the room, where Morrie and Lydia were still dancing the set. “It turns out that Regency dancing is much more complicated than moshing to punk music.” I glowered at Morrie as he spun Lydia around in perfect time. Morrie glanced up at me. His body stiffened. Although he didn’t step out of time, his focus wavered for a moment, and his perfect features crumpled back into a look of such despair that sent a chill down my spine.
Why is he looking at me like that, as though I’ve just stomped on his pet puppy? It can’t be that he’s finally realized his behavior has been upsetting me – this is Morrie we’re talking about. He wouldn’t care. So what’s wrong?
