“Morrie,” I touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I wish you’d said something. You don’t have to deal with this alone. I can help. I—”
He laughed, but the sound had no mirth in it. He held out the letter. “Read it.”
I took the paper, flipped it open, and scanned the results. The number leaped out at me.
Standardized IQ score: 173
Huh?
“Morrie, did you even read this? It’s one pointhigherthan your last exam. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Of course I’m worrying. That paper proves that my brain is in perfect working order. The problem is that my heart is getting in the way.”
My own heart hammered against my chest. I had so many questions, but I kept silent. If I spooked Morrie now, he’d never open up again.
“I care about you.” Morrie rested his cheek on his hand, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe any of it. “I promised myself I’d never make that mistake again. I only cared about one other person my entire life, and, according to the record, he pushed me over a waterfall.”
By Isis, he’s talking about the Reichenbach Falls.
“Morrie…” I didn’t want to press him and spook him off, but I had to know. “Are you saying that you were in love with Sherlock Holmes?”
“How could I not be? He was the only one who ever vexed me, whoever made my life interesting.” Morrie looked up then. “Until you.”
My heart thundered in my ears. Morrie’s eyes locked with mine. The icicles inside them shattered to pieces. Here he was, my amoral criminal, stripped bare of all his bravado, and I understood his pain. Morrie’s emotions were a tidal wave, pulling him under. He needed to hold on to that tiny shred of control he had left, or he was going to drown. Admitting he cared meant admitting that he’d been wrong before, that he’d loved someone who he knew from a book committed the ultimate betrayal.
Arthur Conan Doyle only relayed what happened on the Reichenbach Falls through Sherlock’s short account to Watson. We never knew what had really been said or done on that ledge. Morrie didn’t know, either, because he’d been pulled from his story into our world before it happened. All he knew was that the man he loved pushed him over a cliff.
I wanted to tell him that I’d never do that, but I knew, and he knew, that reassuring someone you weren’t going to hurt them wasn’t the answer.
“Caring about someone doesn’t make you weak,” I whispered. “It makes you human.”
“Humans are weak,” Morrie said, in that cold voice. “I cared once before, and it cost me my life. This time my caring nearly cost you yours, Mina. When I look at you, all I see is my weakness. I’ll be driven mad by it if I don’t—”
His gaze slid to the side, following something across the courtyard below.
“What?” I turned my head too, but I couldn’t make out anything in the dark. Frustration welled up inside me that I couldn’t share in the interesting thing he’d seen.
“It’s Christina Hathaway.” Morrie lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes. He dropped low behind the balcony so only the top of his head was visible over the railing. I dropped down beside him, caught up in the excitement of the moment.Give Morrie a puzzle to solve, and he’s happy.
I crouched down beside him, my heart hammering. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s with that journalist. They’re walking under the trees at the far end of the courtyard, talking in low voices.”
That’s not exactly exciting.“Don’t change the subject. They probably just went outside for some air. Or a cigarette. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Miss Perfect Regency lady was a secret chain smoker?”
“She has a secret all right, but it’s not a nicotine addiction.” Morrie grinned. “They’re kissing.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What?”
“Yeah.” Morrie leaned over the balcony and peered out to the end of the courtyard, where I could just make out two shapes huddled under one of the trees. “It’s a pity you can’t see. There’s some serious snogging going on. We could get tips.”
“Morrie!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the house. “We shouldn’t be spying on them. They deserve a bit of privacy.”
“Relax, gorgeous. They have no idea we’re up here, otherwise they wouldn’t have been so desperate to eat each other’s faces.”
“Do you think Christina’s father knows?” I found it hard to believe a man like Hathaway with his adherence to Regency values would approve of his daughter’s apparent sexuality.
