Margaret hesitated longer this time.
“Yes,” she said at last.
The certainty surprised even her.
“Then why the distance?” Eleanor asked.
“I suspect he believes it is protection.”
“From what?”
“I do not know.”
Silence fell again. Eleanor reached for a biscuit, breaking it in half without eating it.
“This is not a honeymoon.”
“No,” Margaret agreed.
“You should not have to pretend with us.”
The warmth in that struck deeper than she expected.
“I told myself I asked for nothing more,” Margaret admitted quietly.
“And now?” Beatrice asked.
“And now the evenings are very long.”
Eliza moved from her chair to sit beside her on the sofa, pressing their shoulders together.
“Then we will shorten them.”
Margaret laughed faintly despite herself.
“You cannot live here.”
“Do not tempt me,” Eleanor replied. “Your home is beautiful.”
“You are not wrong for wanting companionship,” Anne reminded her.
“I am not certain I want to want it,” Margaret said.
“That is not how the heart works.”
Margaret stared into the fire.
“I do not believe he is indifferent,” she said softly. “I believe he is deliberate.”
“And deliberation can wound as easily as carelessness,” Anne said.
Margaret closed her eyes briefly.bEliza nudged her lightly.
“Does he look upon you?”
The question caught her off guard.
“Yes.”
