“Nothing at all! Just that even now, even after all our letters, after years of friendship, I occasionally encounter an aspect of you that remains mysterious. For example, I never thought you’d be the type to grow exercised over lemon-yellow silk. I’d have thought that was more my department.”
“I wouldn’t personally, but Iamthe type to grow exercised over the notion of pleasing my readers. And of selling magazines. But I do appreciate your point. You are noting the chasm between my apparent enthusiasm for fashion and the dull dresses I wear.” At least she was wearing the blue-gray today rather than the merely gray.
“I wouldn’t call them dull!” Effie protested.
“I would, and you should.” Julianna didn’t care for deluding herself. “I do like fashion, but I prefer to save my money for larger pursuits.” Why was she so defensive? Effie knew about the printing press. And she wasn’t ashamed of her paltry wardrobe. Her dresses were always clean and tidy, and she had a new one made every year or two, when one needed to be retired. But since she only had the two, she couldn’t justify one of them being one of the outrageous confections she printed in her pages. Her wardrobe was another example of one of her adages in action:You can’t miss what you don’t let yourself want.
It occurred to her that she’d had the identical thought about sea-bathing. She hadn’t let herself want to sea-bathe. Then she’d gone sea-bathing, and it had been a revelation.
She didn’t quite know how she was going to go back to a life without it.
* * *
Back at the house, Julianna was shown to a graciously appointed bedchamber done in shades of cream and pink. It was rather like being inside a cross between a French pastry and a fluffy pillow, but she didn’t hate it. French pastries were delicious, and fluffy pillows were cozy.
After Mrs. Mitchell left, Julianna lay back on the bed and considered her next move.
She thought about how relieved she’d been when Effie hadn’t proposed after they kissed that first time, back at the Old Ship. How he hadn’t seemed pressed to analyze their situation. He had said,Just let me be with you, whether that’s only for the rest of the afternoon, or until you have to go back to London.
Until she had to go back to London. Yes. That was what she wanted.
She wanted him so very, very much. Shepinedfor him, and she didn’t think she’d ever pined for anyone or anything in her life. Except perhaps a printing press.
She just needed to keep whatever happened between them contained. She needed Effie to be more Charles than Edith. Like Charles, except more time—and place—limited. They had three days left, after all, and she rather suspected the pining was mutual.
Could they do that? Couldshedo that?
Yes. She was no longer the naive girl she had been the summer of Edith.
Effie stuck his head in, almost as if she had summoned him. Perhaps she had. “Everything up to snuff?”
She sat up. It was now or never. “Yes, thank you. Everything is lovely.”
“We dine at seven. Shall I ride to the Old Ship and collect your things? There doesn’t seem any point in maintaining your room there.”
“No. Well, yes, I would appreciate that. But would you come in first, please?”
He did as she asked, and when she added, “And shut the door behind you,” his eyes twinkled mischievously.
She patted the bed next to her, and as he sat, he said, “Why do I get the feeling you are about to suggest a most amusing diversion?”
She smiled. “Because I am.”
He performed the single clap she had come to understand was an expression of excitement.
She didn’t see any reason to dissemble. “Would you come to me after dinner?”
“Of course. I—Oh.” His eyes widened. “Oh.”
“If you like,” she added, breaking with his gaze due to an unexpected surge of bashfulness. Followed by an expected surge of annoyance because Julianna did not dobashful.
By the time she got herself in order, Effie’s eyes had gone from wide to knowing. Practically smouldering.
“Yes,” he said. “I would like that very much.”
Chapter 9
The Birds and the Bees
