“Would you take Hermes?” Clementine said to Archie, handing him the box into which her prizefighter had retired. “Olive and I are going to take a little stroll.” She looked around. “We shall meet you back where we had the tea.” In case Archie was planning to object, to argue as he’d done before that they couldn’t go about unchaperoned lest someone recognize them, she added, “No one here knows us, and we shan’t be gone long.”
Archie nodded and turned away. Rethinking her directive, Clementine called him back. “You may as well set Hermes loose. He’s more than earned his freedom.” She’d been going to do it herself, but what was the point in keeping Hermes in that box any longer than necessary?
Olive let herself be taken by the arm, but when they were sufficiently away from the festivities and Clementine tried to press the coin on her again, she recoiled. “You don’t even know what I want it for.”
“I do, though. You showed me your list.”
Olive sighed.
“Was your list not in earnest?” Clementine hated to think, after all they’d come through, that the list had been a lie. The list had allowed her to see Olive in a new light, and Clementine didn’t want to let go of that version of her sister. The one with secrets and ambitions.
“The list was in earnest,” Olive said carefully. “But I am not truly saving for any of that.”
“What do you mean? What about your travels?”
“When am I going to travel, Clemmie? Realistically?”
“When you are married to a rich older man you esteem but ignore and who esteems but ignores you in return? And also funds the travels you undertake with an interesting yet respectable older companion?”
Olive smiled fondly. “Oh, how I wish. But in that case, I shan’t need my own money, shall I?”
Clementine chuckled. “I suppose not.”
“I am going to tell you something, Clemmie.”
“All right.” Was she finally going to find out about her sister’s long-lost love?
“I have been saving my pin money, yes, but not for frivolities. Not even for the items on my list. I’ve been giving it to Mrs. Scully from Chiddington.”
It took Clementine a moment to catch up. “Mrs. Scully the widow of the surgeon?” It took another moment for Clementine totrulycatch up. “Oh. Mrs. Scully, Ralph’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?” Clementine kept her tone mild.
“Because her husband and son are dead, and she has nothing.”
“That is very generous of you.”
“It doesn’t feel like generosity,” Olive said quietly. “It feels like . . .” She sighed. “It feels like an imperative.”
“You and Ralph were very good friends,” Clementine said carefully, still moderating her tone. She didn’t want to scare Olive away, not when it felt as if they were on the threshold of something.
“Yes,” Olive said.
“I’m sorry I hadn’t realized he died.”
“You didn’t realize because I never told you.”
Clementine wanted desperately to coax out more, but she didn’t know how.
Or perhaps she did. “When we get back to London, I’m going to convince Father to let us spend some time at Hill House. A good, long stretch.” Even if it would be torturous to be so close to Archie and to not . . . have him.
“I don’t want to go,” Olive said sharply.
“You were just saying you wished we could stay here longer.”
“Here, yes. Hill House, no.”
