Page 40 of The Phoenix Bride
I watch him as he attempts to placate the dog, and I find myself further aggravated. The day has been long, and I amexhausted. My head feels like a cannonball upon my neck. Small, floating dots impugn on my vision and swirl in an ill-timed dance. Sir Grey suddenly has the character of an actor in a comedy, awaiting my reply so we can continue through the script.
I clear my throat. “I must…” I say, and then I don’t know how to continue. I gesture weakly to the road.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Grey bows to me. “I shall return home, then. Farewell, Master Mendes.”
“Farewell.”
He crosses the street with the dog cradled in his arms like a baby, turning to give me another smile before disappearing into his home. I am left alone on the pavement, staring at the gilded crest on his door.
I look back to the Eden townhouse. I recall the promise I made to Cecilia to meet with her tomorrow, and my chest tightens with anxiety and anticipation. I wonder if she doesn’t want to see me, not really—if all she wants from me is an excuse to leave this place for another night, and taste freedom again.
I stand by the railing, frozen in thought, wondering if I ought to return and tell her I have changed my mind.
And then, unbidden, I recall our hands over the spinet keys. I envision her fingers against mine again, now scratched with wounds I tended; our eyes meeting; the warmth of her skin; and I am undone.
I turn away from the townhouse and walk back the way I came.
The door shuts behind David. I hear a snatch of Sir Grey’s voice, chattering from ahead, but I can’t tell what he is saying, and I am given no opportunity to decipher it. The moment we are alone, the relieved smile falls from Margaret’s face. She grips my arm so tightly it hurts, and she pulls me up the stairs.
“Maggie,” I say as she drags me through the corridor. And then, once we are in my room, I repeat, “Maggie.” I don’t know how to continue. She doesn’t look at me. She flings me over to the bed and goes to stand by the window.
“Are you hurt, Cecilia?” she says to the glass.
“No. Not really.”
“Where did you go?”
“To the park.”
“Why?”
“Because it was away from here,” I reply truthfully. “And I didn’t know where else to go.”
Margaret nods. She takes hold of the windowsill and grips ittightly, as if the wall is in danger of detaching from the rest of the manor and it is her obligation to keep it in place.
“Have I been so cruel to you?” she asks. “Are you so truly desperate to leave?”
“It wasn’t that,” I reply weakly. “I swear, Maggie, I only…”
“You only what?”
“I…”
“Answer me, Cecilia.”
“I—If—” There is a pang of nausea in my stomach, and I find myself hunching over. “The thought of meeting a suitor…it frightened me, and—”
“You were reckless,” Margaret snarls. “I have never known you to act with such stupidity. You are not stupid. So I must conclude that you were reckless on purpose. That you wanted to hurt yourself.”
“I am sorry,” I respond through gritted teeth, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest.
“You don’t understand,” she says, her voice growing steadily colder. “You have never understood, I realize that now. Mother told me to keep you safe, and everything I have ever done has been to that end. Our entire lives, I have done all in my power to ensure you were secure and content. Was it wrong to ask, this once—to ask you to bereasonable,just this once—!” She gives a shriek of anger and claws at the windowsill, her nails wailing against the wood. “I told you when you came here that I wanted you to be happy.”
“And yet you would have me marry a man I have never met,” I reply, temper fraying. “I heard what Sir Grey said—UncleRobert. What is this, Maggie? Why am I here?”
She scowls. “You are here because you are my sister, and I care for you.”
“I used to think that, but now I’m not so certain.”
