“Family,” Lucy corrected. “You are the sister of my heart, and you must not forget it.” She pulled Mina into another hug.
“You’ll see,” Mina whispered into her hair, pushing away her own doubts. “You shall be so occupied with these suitors of yours that you’ll hardly notice my absence.”
“Impossible,” Lucy whispered back.
“Well,” Jonathan interjected from behind them, “we must be going if we are to catch the train.” He opened the door of their waiting carriage.
“I won’t allow it,” Lucy said in jest. “I shall lie in front of the carriage and prevent your departure entirely.”
Mina smiled sadly, drawing herself away from her friend—the sister of her heart—and looked toward the front step of the home where her aunt stood. Aunt Emily’s expression was unreadable as Mina approached, stopping a pace or two away.
“Thank you,” Mina said, “for all you have done.” And she meant it. How many nights had she been grateful for her aunt’s steadiness, her reliability, when her father was off in the city streets, lost to drink? Her aunt had stepped in after her mother’s death as best she could.
“Your mother would be proud,” her aunt said. Mina nodded, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. In all likelihood, her mother would have been horrified by the circumstances that had led them here, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“I’ll write to you,” Mina said.
Her aunt reached out and gently touched her arm, her hand lingering for a mere moment as she said, “Please do.”
Mina turned away, walking over to the carriage where the driver had already stowed her suitcase. Jonathan helped her climb into the carriage, and her stomach dropped as the door slammed shut behind her.
“We love you!” Lucy called.
Mina waved as Jonathan climbed in on the other side, and the carriage drew away from the curb. She gazed out upon the city as the red-bricked townhomes blurred past. Figures moved along the pavement, brisk and purposeful, making their way to work or social calls—everyday life continuing as though she had never been part of it. An odd tightness built in her chest as she considered the fact that she would soon be a stranger to these streets that were so familiar to her.
She tried to push beyond the nausea in her stomach. There were many possibilities ahead, and despite the questions that had haunted her sleepless nights over these past few weeks, she tried to fix her mind upon the good.
The drive to the train station passed too quickly, and Mina found herself following Jonathan blindly through the bustling platforms, her mind hazy. As they boarded the train, Mina’s stomach crashed like waves breaking on the shore. She wished to smile, to exchange polite words like the proper English woman her husband would likely anticipate, but all she could do was stare out the window as the train completed its preparations.
“You haven’t changed your mind about the townhouse, have you?” Jonathan asked, sitting across from her in their compartment.
For a moment, Mina only blinked at him, her mind tangled in other worries. “I haven’t,” she said. It seemed foolish not to sell the place now that no one remained to fill its walls, yet something in her recoiled at the finality of selling it. Yet another tie to London, to the only home she’d ever known, being cut.
“Well,” he began, “once I return to England, I will start the process immediately.”
Mina looked up at his smiling face but found herself unable to return it. She swallowed the nausea that rose in her throat. “Thank you, Jonathan. That is most kind of you.”
“Certainly.” Silence fell between them for several moments, and it wasn’t until a shrill whistle cut through the air, thetrain lurching forward with movement, that Jonathan spoke again. “You know, arranged marriages have been practiced for countless generations,” he said, as though he were sharing an interesting fact. “Up until recent times, it was far more common to marry a stranger than it was to find a love match.”
She turned her gaze to the window, and impatience stirred in her chest.
“I know,” Mina said softly.
Jonathan prattled on, seeming entirely unaware of the knit to her brow. “In many cases, these arrangements were far more beneficial to the woman than to the man, if you can believe it.” He crossed an ankle over his other knee, warming to his subject. “For instance, in the case of—”
“Would you ever do it?” she asked abruptly.
He blinked. “Marry an unknown bride? Perhaps. It would—”
“No,” she said. “Abandon the career you’ve spent years pursuing. Leave England—and all those you hold dear—for a place you’ve never seen, to wed a bride you have never spoken to.”
Jonathan fell silent, as though considering the idea for the first time. “I suppose I couldn’t say,” he admitted, a slight flush to his cheeks.
“Mm.” She turned back to the window, guilt pooling in her stomach, but her indignance held stronger. “Perhaps we might be quiet for a while. I am feeling rather tired.”
“Certainly,” he said. He paused for a moment, as though awaiting something further, but when nothing came, he picked up the newspaper lying beside him and absorbed himself in its pages.
Mina watched the city blur past, the echoes of distant church bells mingling with the clatter of wheels against cobble as the train carried her away, and a hollow ache settled deep in her chest.
