“Really, now, Gerald. Must we dig up this ancient history again? The university investigated and found me innocent of plagiarism.”
“That’s because you were sleeping with the head of the committee!” Gerald yelled. Behind him, Christina gasped and hid her face behind her fan.
David shoved his way in front of Hathaway and glared at Gerard. “Don’t do this. You’re upsetting Christina.”
“She’s a big girl, David. She can look after herself.” Gerard shoved him aside. “She needs to know what kind of man her beloved father really is.”
“And what kind of a man is that, Gerald?” Professor Hathaway said. Unlike Gerald, his tone was reasonable, sensible, carrying an air of authority. Even if what Gerald said was true, Hathaway was going to come away looking like the winner. “The kind of man who takes pity on a failing graduate student, offers him a place even though his grades weren’t high enough to qualify, tutors him extensively and creates every opportunity for him to shine, only to have that attention thrown back in my face when I’m falsely accused?”
“You only did that because you wanted to get in good with my girlfriend. You knew she wouldn’t continue graduate study unless I did, and then you wouldn’t be able to have your chance at her.” Gerald grabbed the goth girl by the hand and shoved her forward. “Tell them, Hannah. Tell them how that bastard touched you.”
A collective gasp traveled through the crowd. Hathaway’s confident expression faltered for a moment. Beside me, Heathcliff tensed, ready to pounce on Hathaway if necessary. All eyes fell on the girl as Gerald dragged her beside him.
“Gerald, stop it!” Hannah wrenched her hand away. “It’s bad enough you made us come along this weekend, but now you’re saying that in front of everyone. He just touched my breast in the elevator. He said it was an accident, and I believe him. Don’t bring it up again!”
“Listen to her, Gerald,” Professor Hathaway cooed. “You wouldn’t want a slander suit brought against you for things you cannot understand.”
“I understand perfectly! I understand what you’ve done to your own daughter, making her into this Regency doormat just so she would remind you of your wife.”
Christine’s face paled. “Please, gentlemen. Let’s not make a scene.”
“Yes, Gerald.” Hathaway nodded. “Let’s step back and collect ourselves. Anger is an ugly emotion to air in public. Accusations of plagiarism are best left for a university ethics committee to deal with, and not solved by a duel over breakfast. Come along, Christina.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and let her away. Guests stepped aside to let them pass, and I heard a ripple of whispers in the crowd of how Hathaway had dealt with the situation like a gentleman.
I’m not so sure.Hannah’s face as she watched them walk away was etched with pain. The story she told and what really happened wasn’t the same.
The silent room stared daggers at Gerald. He growled, swiping his hand over the breakfast buffet, scattering platters and chafing dishes, and sending a waterfall of sausages and eggs cascading across the carpet.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” Gerald snarled at the crowd, stomping away, his leather trench coat flapping behind him.
Staff rushed in to clean up the buffet. The crowd milled around, drifting back to the tables and gossiping about what had just transpired. I turned to Heathcliff. “What you do suppose that was about?”
“Looks like the Brontë Society is here for personal reasons after all,” Heathcliff said.
I noticed Morrie and Lydia sitting at a table by the window, enjoying plates piled high with food. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t had a chance to eat because of what that old lady said, and what happened in the bathroom afterward, and now the food was all over the floor. I slid into a chair next to Morrie and plucked a rasher of bacon from his plate.
“Heathcliff, Mina, I’m so pleased you found us.” Lydia beamed up from their breakfast “What frightful good fun! I thought there would be a duel for sure—”
“Your name isHeathcliff?”
Hannah wrapped her red-tipped claws around Heathcliff’s arm, her eyes locked on his like she was seeing him from the first time. From the way her body arched toward him and her tongue ran along her lips, I knew she liked what she saw.
Heathcliff grunted in reply.
She tugged on his arm. “You should consider joining the Brontë society. We’re a lot more fun than this crowd.”
“I’m not sure I like your costumes any better,” Heathcliff growled.
“This isn’t a costume.” She gestured to the black-and-red damask corset and black tulle skirt she wore over fishnet stockings and New Rock boots. “I dress to express the darkness and existential angst within me.”
“Good luck with that.” Heathcliff tried to free his arm, but she sank her nails deeper.
“It’s my destiny to one day marry a Heathcliff,” she whispered. “I want my future children to be sons and daughters of Heathcliff. Every day I pull tarot cards and look at my horoscope to find out when he will arrive. I thought Gerald might be a good contender if he would just agree to change his name, but that was before I knew anactualHeathcliff existed. And my horoscope did say I would meet a dark stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all! Tell me, Mr. Heathcliff, were you an orphan? Do you love the wild moors? Would I need to change my name to Cathy? Because I would do it. I would!”
“This Heathcliff is all those things,andhe owns a bookshop in the village,” I said, taking perverse delight in watching Heathcliff squirm.
“You’re supposed to be helping me,” he growled. In response, I nicked a sausage off Morrie’s plate and chomped down on it.
“A bookshop?” Hannah’s eyes sparkled. I felt a kinship with her – another outcast book nerd who dreamed of a passionate, grumpy man. “You must tell me all about it. Do you mind?” Hannah asked me, indicating the empty chair at the end of our table.
