I remained frozen in place, until I was certain that if I left the room there was no chance of us meeting again. And also because I needed time to regain my bearings.
I meant what I said before, Minnie.
I couldn’t decide if I was annoyed by his outrageous presumption both in issuing such a warning to begin withandin using my first name, or touched that he cared enough to even bother making the trip.
Then again, I had no idea where he lived. For all I knew, he had simply strolled one street over. Perhaps Morris knew—No.
A warning note sounded in my head.
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not why he had come here nor where he had come from. I didn’t want to know. Besides, I had mistaken his concern for more once. Much more. In fact, I had been on the verge of embarrassing both of us with some kind of impromptu declaration I could barely remember now when I learned that Mr. Dorian hadpacked up and abruptly left Corfu without bothering to say good-bye.
In the end, I was glad he had gone, of course. It was nothing more than a moment of temporary madness, no doubt brought on by the stress of our last investigation. Even still, as I waited there in my parents’ drawing room, doubts began to creep in until I was forced to reassure myself that I really hadn’t said anything to him. And that there was absolutely no way he could know what I had intended that day last spring.
Now you’re being delusional in addition to absurd.
I gave myself a shake. I had lingered here long enough, and there was much to do. For despite Mr. Dorian’s overbearing presumption, I would not simply stand aside and wait for the authorities to do their job. It did not matter that this was London and not Corfu. In my experience, incompetence could happen anywhere. And while I certainly had no intention of meddling, I did intend to do everything in my power to protect my sister.
But just as I made to leave, my gaze caught on the sideboard with the photographs. Curiosity suddenly burned through me as I approached and wondered what on earth had so interested Mr. Dorian. I stopped and glanced over the familiar pictures. Most of these were formal photographs of me and my siblings as children, along with Jack and Dolly’s wedding portrait. But there was a new picture among them. I let out a surprised gasp as my hand shot forward to pick up the frame. It was my wedding portrait. I had stuck my copy away in a drawer somewhere when I couldn’t bear to look at it after Oliver’s death. I hadn’t seen it in years and was struck anew by Oliver’s handsome face and friendly smile—not to mention how very young we both looked. So full of hope and excitement.
We had posed for it shortly after the ceremony at a chapel in Cambridge. None of our family were in attendance, aseverything had happened rather quickly because Oliver was due back in Athens. At the time, it had felt adventurous and exciting, but now I understood that there was an edge of callousness there as well. Back then, I had been utterly convinced that my family wanted to be rid of me and ignored anything to the contrary. But now I held that very evidence in my hand—framed in gold, no less. Slowly, I put the picture back down in its place as a wave of regret washed over me. Then I frowned and tilted my head as I studied the rest of the photographs. I looked over them three times just to make sure, but they were all framed in varying shades of silver. Which meant that the photograph Mr. Dorian had been studying so intently when I entered the room could only have been my wedding portrait.
I charged out of the drawing room, determined to outrun the strange swirl of emotions this realization had unearthed, and gathered my things. Morris then appeared out of the shadows to helpfully inform me that my mother had given me permission to use the family coach, so I took it to Jack and Dolly’s house in South Kensington. I spent the entire ride chastising myself for daring to think for even a moment that Mr. Dorian’s actions could indicate anything other than perfectly normal curiosity. And by the time I arrived, I was certain I had embellished the entire scene to the point of absurdity. I was promptly ushered inside by a footman who took my coat just as Dolly appeared in the entryway.
“Hello, my dear,” she said warmly as she slipped her arm through mine and led me down the hall. “The children and I are in the parlor, while Jack is in his study, as usual.” Then, once we were safely out of earshot, she lowered her voice, and her gaze filled with sympathy. “Your brother told me everything. What an awful business.”
“Yes, it is.”
I will admit I was a little surprised to hear that Jack had confided in Dolly. I rather expected him to keep his wife inthe dark on most things, given how little time he seemed to spend in her company, but the nature of their relationship continued to mystify me.
“How is Delia?”
We paused just outside the parlor door, and I could hear the muffled sounds of the children chattering away inside.
“I’m not sure,” I said on a sigh. “Last night was a horrible shock, of course. And I haven’t seen her yet today.”
Dolly made a hum of agreement. “Jack is quite worried about her. Poor thing. And your mother too.”
We entered the room to find the children were playing some kind of card game by the hearth.
Tommy was not as thrilled to see me as I was to see him, but I suppose that was to be expected. And he certainly didn’t know about the night I had.
“I know that look,” Dolly said when Tommy immediately returned to the card game after giving me a halfhearted greeting. “Don’t take it too much to heart. They have all been having such fun together.”
I let out a little sigh as I sat down on the sofa beside her. “I am glad of that. Truly. It’s only …”
Dolly gave me an understanding smile. “He’s your little boy. And he’s growing up.”
The pang in my chest was sharp and swift. “Yes,” I murmured, watching Tommy from across the room. “He is.”
I startled a little as I felt a warm hand pressing against my arm. I met Dolly’s sympathetic gaze, and for a moment I could see myself the way she must: a sad little widow on the cusp of middle age with her two children swiftly approaching adulthood, after which she would be alone forever.
“If you ever need anyone to talk to …,” she began, but there was no need to finish the rest, and I was grateful that she seemed to sense that.
“Thank you,” I replied with a brittle smile.
Perhaps I wasn’t being fair to Dolly. Or myself, for thatmatter. For I was filled with a strange kind of certainty. An understanding that I didn’twantto be that person. Didn’t want that version of my future. I knew all too well that there was so very much I couldn’t control about the world around me and the people I loved. But I could still forge a different kind of life. Find a new purpose now that my children were growing older.
“And you know,” Dolly went on as she leaned towards me conspiratorially. “I was about your age when I had Franny. Then John came along as well. Our happy little accident,” she added with a chuckle.
