“I am very careful,” she replied. “In different directions.”
“Which directions?”
She looked at him for a moment.
“The ones that matter,” she said. “Which is the difference between us, I think.”
The fire popped, and Isadora blinked, suddenly remembering that there were other people in the room. She looked around the table; it was too quiet.
William was looking at her with questions in his eyes, and she looked away quickly. Cecily’s hand had found his on the table.
For once, Letitia was not looking for something to say.
James regarded Isadora carefully. “Right.”
He reached for his wine. She reached for hers.
The candles burned steadily.
“Well, I should like to know,” Letitia spoke up, very gently, which was its own kind of remarkable, “what the directions are. The ones that matter.”
Isadora looked at her sister.
“I know I’m interfering,” Letitia added quickly. “But I think—” She stopped. Made the visible decision to stop there. “No, never mind.” She set her napkin on the table. “I am suddenly exhausted.”
“You were not exhausted three minutes ago,” William remarked.
“Exhaustion is sudden,” Letitia said serenely.
“It comes conveniently,” William drawled.
“Are you not tired, Cecily? Brother?”
“Yes, we are.” Cecily smiled.
“No, I am not remotely tired.”
“Yes, we are, darling.” Cecily’s smile widened.
William looked at her. She raised her eyebrows in a way that meant,Yes, we are leaving.
He stood. “Right.”
Letitia was already pushing back her chair with the decisive energy of someone setting a plan into motion. She bent and kissed Isadora’s cheek, then whispered in her ear, “Do not argue yourself out of it.” She straightened before Isadora could answer.
Cecily embraced her on the way out. “Good night,” she said.
William paused behind her. He did not look at James, but he fixed her with a brief, direct look that said several things and said none of them aloud. “Good night.”
She gave him a small nod.
He left, and the door closed behind him.
When it was finally just the two of them, Isadora looked at her dessert. She did not look at James. She did not need to. She could feel him looking at her.
The dining room settled into its new quiet—two place settings, lower candles, the house entirely still around them. She looked at the space where her family had been.
“A perfectly ordinary dinner conversation,” James said.
