“Nor do I,” Simon said. “You know I haven’t an artistic bone in my body, but I am not at all surprised that the process of creating poems is rather mystical.”
“Sometimes, lately, it seems the curtain is drawn such that I can see into the past. No, I can . . .feelinto the past.”
“Is that a blessing or a curse?” Simon asked.
“I honestly don’t know. On the one hand, I would rather not have these memories. It would be much more convenient if they’d stayed locked away. On the other hand, part of me dislikes the notion that my memory is hiding things from me. It’s as if I don’t know my own soul.”
Effie felt better for having unburdened himself. He always did. He wondered, for the second time in as many days, why he’d ever thought to keep secrets from the boys.
He was tired; he hadn’t been lying about that. But when he got back to his room, he found himself possessed of a newfound energy. He let Leander out of his cage to stretch his wings and pulled out his stack of letters.
Dear Sartorially Sullied,
Stop giving your son castor oil. It’s vile. As a happy consequence, you shan’t have to do battle with castor oil stains ever again.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Landers
Much later that night, Effie was staring at the ceiling in his bedchamber, when his door creaked open. He could just make out the shape of Archie, who was carrying a candle, suspended in his doorway.
“What’s wrong?” Effie whispered.
Archie slipped into the room. “Nothing. I awakened and thought to check on you.” He set his taper on the nightstand. “Sleep eludes you, I gather?”
“Sleep eludes me,” Effie confirmed. “What time is it?”
“Nearly four.”
“I thought it must be. I usually try to avoid looking at my timepiece when I am battling my sleep demon, but—what are you doing?”
“Keeping you company.”
Archie had pushed back the covers and was getting into bed with Effie.
“Keeping me company!” Effie, echoed, amazed.
“Well, trying to.” Archie shoved Effie’s shoulder. “Move over.”
Oh, Archie. Was there a better man on this earth? Effie, a little overcome, moved over. If only one could bank kindness. Save it up when one encountered an excess of it, and pull it out later when it was in short supply. If that were possible, Effie would never run out.
“Speaking of preferring the company of gentlemen,” Effie asked, “what will the servants think if they find us in bed together, or if they saw you sneaking in here?”
“Oh, who cares? Being an earl ought to be good for something. Besides, they are unlikely to find out. I told them you tend to lie abed in the mornings—that was before I knew that wasn’t the case anymore.”
“So we’ll have a lie-in and, what? You’ll climb out the window?”
“Do you know that I climbed in Clementine’s window once last year, at Quintrell Castle?”
“You did?”
“Yes, and that was much higher off the ground, so your scenario does not daunt me.”
“You always were rather a Corinthian.”
Archie rolled his eyes and blew out his candle.
Effie turned onto his side, facing away from Archie. He thought he might be able to sleep now.
