Page 48 of The Villa

“The First Wife” was the shortest story in Marianne’s collection, almost more like a poem, really, a metaphorical, lyrical take on the legend of Lilith, said to be Adam’s wife before Eve. But Lilith had been made of the same earth as Adam ratherthan made from him, and she hadn’t been obedient, which of course made her wicked.

Marianne clearly hadn’t thought so, and neither did Mari. In fact, she remembered the first time she’d read that story, sitting there at the long table behind the rows of books by old dead men, and thought how thrilling it was, having a mother who would write something like this.

It had caused a minor scandal on publication, Mari had later learned, throwing churches and priests all in a tizzy. Thinking of it now, Mari knows she’ll want to reread it once they get back to the house. Maybe immersing herself in her mother’s words will bring Victoria’s voice back to her.

“Listen, Mari,” Noel suddenly says, stopping so abruptly she nearly runs into his back. He turns around, looking up at her since she’s still on a step above him.

“I was only teasing about Johnnie earlier, but… truly, you’re not interested, are you?”

Mari’s brain is still on her mother, on “The First Wife,” so it takes her a moment to even understand what Noel is talking about, and even once she does, she’s confused.

“Because if you are, that’s certainly your prerogative,” he hurries on, “and let me not to the marriage of true minds—”

Rolling her eyes, Mari gives him another shove, this one slightly harder.

“Piss off.”

Noel gives an exaggerated grimace, but Mari thinks he’s actually a bit relieved, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Okay, so you don’t reciprocate young Johnnie’s feelings then. I didn’t think you did, but you’re a very hard girl to read, Mistress Mary. Still waters and all that.”

Coming from him, Mari suspects that’s a compliment, butshe’s still slightly bemused. “What does it matter to you if I did?” she asked, and he glances up at her, one eyebrow raised.

“For one, there’s quite enough sexual intrigue in the house already, don’t you think? And two… well, to be frank, if you want to step out on Sheldon, you could do much better.”

For a moment, Mari wonders if this is Noel making some sort of play for her himself. They haven’t talked about what happened that night, and Noel’s behavior toward her hasn’t changed. But she suspects that if he were declaring himself, he’d be a great deal more forward about it. “I couldn’t ‘step out’ on Pierce,” she tells him. “It isn’t like that with us, we’re… open. Free. Which you should know better than most, frankly.”

Noel makes a rude noise at that. “Please. Sheldon may tell you that, may certainly practice that for himself, but something tells me that if you were ever to act on any attraction or desire without him present, it might be another story.”

Mari has sometimes thought that herself, but she doesn’t want to give Noel the satisfaction of agreeing.

“In any case,” she says now, “I’m not interested in Johnnie. Or anyone besides Pierce.”

“Wound to the ego, balm to the mind,” Noel replies, then sighs, shaking his head. “He’s a good lad, Johnnie. Sweet and loyal. Bit like a spaniel, really. Sadly, a rubbish musician.”

“I haven’t heard him play,” Mari replies, and Noel flicks that away with an elegant gesture.

“You haven’t missed anything, believe me. He’s desperate to get in on the studio time I have booked when we’re back in London, but he just doesn’t have what it takes. I keep him around because he’s gorgeous to look at, and he has a surprising talent for finding any kind of… let us say,recreational substancea man might desire, no matter where one is in theworld. Last year, he managed to get hashish in theOuter fucking Hebrides. Otherworldly, I tell you. Honestly, I thought about letting him play on the album just as a reward for that alone, but Sheldon is right—if one element is out of place, the whole thing falls apart.”

Mari’s first reaction is relief that Pierce and Noel have been talking about music at all. But then she thinks about how kind Johnnie was to her earlier, and her heart aches for him. She knows what it’s like to want something and feel like it’s close, but just out of reach. How much it must sting, watching Noel and Pierce play together and being shut out. To see Noel turn his attention to Pierce, to give Pierce the opportunity that Johnnie himself has been craving.

The well, which had felt magical and soothing earlier, now feels too small, too narrow, and Mari is intensely aware of the layers of rock and soil above her, around her, below her.

She turns and begins trudging back up the stairs, her breath harsh in her ears, her eyes fixed on her sandals, and she doesn’t see Johnnie sitting on one of the steps until she nearly trips over him, a startled, “Oh!” flying from her lips as her hands land awkwardly on his knees.

He’s holding himself stiffly, and Mari knows, immediately, that he heard every word Noel said. Maybe it didn’t come as a surprise, but thinking a thing and having it confirmed are different beasts, as she well knows.

“Johnnie,” she breathes, and he stands up quickly, his hands taking hers as he helps her up onto the next step.

“What did you think of hell?” he asks, and tries to give her that bright smile she’s used to, but it falters just the littlest bit.

“Hellish,” she replies, trying to match his fake cheer as Noel comes up behind her, slightly wary.

“John-o,” he says, but Johnnie only smiles at him, too.

“Got everything,” he tells Noel, patting his pockets with a knowing look. “We should be set for the next week or so at least.”

“Good man,” Noel says, clapping him on the shoulder, and if Mari sees something flicker in Johnnie’s eyes, she blames it on the light.

CHAPTER NINE

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