She reached for Effie, but the bed was empty. Cold. She threw on her wrap. Julianna had been given fine accommodations. Her bedchamber was effectively two rooms, a sleeping area connected by a short, boxy corridor of sorts to another space she had used as a sitting room. Though she supposed it was properly meant to be a dressing room—in addition to a settee and a pair of wing chairs, it contained a collection of mirrors in the corner that would allow a lady to examine her reflection from all angles as well as a dressing table where a lady more refined than she would perform her toilette.
Effie, wearing only his breeches, was perched on the latter piece of furniture and staring into the mirror. He didn’t notice her. He appeared melancholy.
She shifted in place a bit and, when that did not get his attention, said, quietly, “Have you had a nightmare?” If so, she felt badly—she had been sleeping too soundly to notice.
He transferred his gaze to hers, via the mirror. It took him a long time—too long—to answer her question. “No nightmares.” His face didn’t change. It scarcely even moved as he spoke. “I haven’t had any since I’ve been here.”
“Well, that is good.”
They continued to stare at each other. For the second time this evening, Julianna couldn’t read Effie’s expression. Before, his signature good nature had eventually reasserted itself. Perhaps she could encourage that to happen again. She held out her hand. “Come back to bed?”
“I can’t,” he said somberly. She hadn’t noticed that the rest of his clothes were on top of the dressing table. He slipped his shirt on. When he was done, he met her gaze in the mirror again. She wanted to tell him to turn around, to look ather, not her reflection, but once again, something stopped her. What was it? This wasEffie. Her dearest friend, and for one more day, her lover. Why was she holding back?
She didn’t know her own mind, and she didn’t like it.
Perhaps the problem was that she couldn’t know her own mind without knowing his. Perhaps they had grown that interdependent. It was an alarming thought.
“I can’t stay,” he said again.
She was disappointed, but it was likely almost morning. She must have slept longer than she’d realized. “All right. I shall see you soon, then.”
“Yes,” he said, but there was a sadness in his tone. In his eyes, too. “I shall see you soon.”
Chapter 11
Mythology
“Does anyone remember the myth of Leander and Hero?” Effie asked after dinner the next night—the last night. Well, not the last night of Earls Trip, but the last night with Julianna in attendance.
Once again, Julianna had retired after dinner, leaving Effie to pass some time with the boys. She no longer pled a headache. They all seemed to have accepted a certain rhythm to their days—and nights. Today, as yesterday, they had all ventured out together, spending most of their time on the beach, and had taken their evening meal together.
After spending some time with the boys and a glass of port, Effie was meant to go to Julianna. For the last time.
“You’re the poet among us,” Archie said.
“And the one who owns a bird named Leander,” Simon said.
“I’ve got the basics of it from the Keats poem,” Effie said. “Or the ending, anyway. He drowns trying to get to his love, Hero. But I can’t remember what led to that.”
“You can’t imagineIknow,” Archie said. It was true; Archie had never been a scholar.
“You’re in luck, because I do,” Simon said, and when both Effie and Simon looked at him in surprise, he held up his hands and added, “I’ve been expanding my reading of late and have recently dipped into Greek mythology.”
Was it Effie’s imagination, or was Simon being somewhat defensive? Greek mythology certainly was out of character for him. Effie had only ever seen Simon read newspapers. Though come to think of it, hehadbeen readingSense and Sensibilityin the coach. Effie made a mental note to think more on this exceptional turn later, but for now said, “Do go on.”
“Leander and Hero fall in love, despite the fact that she is a priestess of Aphrodite and has taken a vow of chastity,” Simon said.
“Why would a priestess of Aphrodite take a vow of chastity?” Archie asked.
“Why did the Greeks do anything?”
“I take the point.”
“Regardless, she is forbidden to marry. And she and Leander live on opposite sides of the Hellespont, she in a very high tower overlooking the sea.”
“I would expect no less for a priestess of Aphrodite,” Archie said wryly.
Simon shot Archie a quelling look. “Leander convinces Hero that he should swim across the channel every night to pay her a visit. She agrees, though she is fearful.”
