“I’ll walk you there,” he said. She looked ready to protest, but held out her hand and allowed David to take it.
“If you must.”
David fell over himself tripping over the chairs as he went around to take her arm and escort her out of the room. I leaned into Quoth. “It must be strange to act like that all the time.”
“Perhaps she enjoys it.” Quoth offered his arm. I took it, smiling at Quoth as I conceded his point. It had been an interesting weekend retreating into this feminine persona, where I needed a man’s arm in order to get anything done.
I might need a man’s arm in mine for the rest of my life, stopping me from banging into things.
It was hard to dwell on my own personal hell when Quoth’s calming presence was beside me. We went through to the breakfast room and helped ourselves to what little remained at the buffet. Quoth found us a table for two under a window in the darkest, loneliest corner. We poured tea and ate our food while outside, snow blanketed the lawns and parterres in a fluffy white coat.
“You’re doing very well,” I said, buttering my croissant like the heathen Englishwoman I was. “No urges to fly away?”
“Strangely, no.” Quoth sipped his tea. “I wonder if it’s something in the familiarity of the clothing, the speech, the conversation. It’s weird to think that so many years in the future, people look back at our books with such a romantic nostalgia.”
“I have to admit, you look damn sexy in that cravat,” I smiled, sliding my hand up his leg under the table. He did at that. The high, stiff collar framed his perfect face, making his skin appear even paler. It was probably a good thing the Brontë Society ladies hadn’t got their claws into him yet.
“Thank you.” Quoth set down his fork. I noticed he had no eggs on his plate. I guess eating eggs was weird when you were a bird. He cleared his throat. “Mina, I don’t like to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell Morrie and Heathcliff about the fireworks.”
“Nope.” I stabbed a sausage with more violence than I intended. It skidded across the table. Quoth caught it before it toppled off the edge.
“They’re going to figure out that something is wrong, if they haven’t already.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I just want more time to enjoy being with all of you, being a normal person, before the world turns dark forever and I become an invalid.”
“You’re never going to be an invalid to us.” Quoth’s hand rested on mine. “Ever since I arrived here, I’ve felt less than Morrie and Heathcliff. I’ve known there are things in this world that can never belong to me. But you made me realize that isn’t true. The only disability is in my own mind, and the only thing holding me back is my fear. And now,” he gestured to the spread in front of us, and the smile on his lips melted my heart. “Here I am, eating breakfast in public with the most kind and beautiful woman.”
“It’s different.” It wasn’t different. I stared at my plate, struggling to hold back the tears prickling in the corners of my eyes.
Quoth laughed, the sound like tinkling chimes. “It hurts me to see you like this. Just because the lights are fading in your eyes, don’t let your own light burn out. Please, promise you’ll think about it.”
A bell rang, signaling the end of the hour and the time for the memorial garden party to begin. Grateful for a distraction from a conversation that was rapidly descending toward breaking me open and dragging out all my dark thoughts, I leaped to my feet. Quoth helped me into my coat (actually, Heathcliff’s coat, but he wasn’t going to miss it), and we joined the throng of people waiting for a break in the falling snow to dash out to the orangery.
Morrie ran down the stairs – dressed in a new outfit of pale breeches, a midnight-blue topcoat with gold detail, and a shiny sword – and sidled up to us. “Yo, little birdie, I’m going to need my lanyard. And my girl.”
“I thought I might escort Mina to the garden party—” Quoth started.
“Nope.” Morrie elbowed Quoth out of the way. “Too many people. Too great a risk. See you later.”
“No. Quoth, wait.” I tightened my grip on his arm. “Morrie, you’re being unbelievably rude. Can’t Quoth and I enjoy the morning ourselves? I thought you’d be too busy snooping around for clues about our murder.”
Morrie straightened his shoulder. “I didn’t want to have to say this, but I need to talk to you about something.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that true, or are you trying to get away from Lydia?”
“Mina, it’s fine, really. He’s right. There are too many people out here. I shall return to the shop and see you later.” Quoth dropped my arm, sinking into the crowd before I could stop him.
“You’re mine again.” Morrie placed my arm in his.
“I’m angry at you. I’m only holding onto you because it’s freezing, and the ground is slippery and I don’t want to fall over.”
“Sure, gorgeous, I believe you.”
As the crowd swept us along, I glanced over my shoulder. Quoth stood on the top of the stairs, his long hair sweeping down his back, his face serene. He raised his hand and gave me a quick wave.
Morrie just acted like a total dick, and Quoth doesn’t care.
A wave of sadness swept over me.For all his fine words, deep down he still believed he was less than.Quoth just took all the shit life handed him. But he shouldn’t have to take it from his friends.
