Julianna fell asleep, as she had been doing during their nights together.
In their correspondence, she had always sympathized with Effie about his insomnia, telling him that she had so often lain abed and resisted sleeping for thinking about the magazine that she feared she had trained herselfnotto sleep, even when she wanted to.
But she certainly fell asleep readily here. Tonight, they hadn’t been lying panting for five minutes before he realized that she wasn’t panting so much anymore as she was lightly snoring.
Effie would have enjoyed flattering himself that it was his presence, but it was more likely the generalized effect of a holiday. Distance—both physical and sentimental—from one’s cares, even if one did not perceive one’s cares as burdens, as was certainly the case with Jules and her magazine, had a restorative effect.
But . . .Wasshe distant from her cares here? He certainly was not. He had been, moments ago, butThere is only nowhad becomeWhat happens next?
He had been distant from his cares when their holiday began, the relief of confiding in his friends and the giddiness of his early encounters with Jules conspiring to create a profound contentment deep inside him. That state hadn’t lasted, though. Cares, they had a way of seeping in.
Regardless, he was glad Julianna was sleeping well. Perhaps she could bank some of it for when she had to go back and do battle with Mr. Glanvil and the other men of her world, the ones who didn’t respect her talents or consider her feelings.
He levered himself off the bed gingerly, so as not to wake her. Pulling on a dressing gown, he peered into Leander’s cage, willing the bird, who was awake, to remain silent.
“Do you want to come out?” he whispered, opening the door and presenting his wrist.
Leander stepped out with a burble that was not loud enough to wake Julianna, and Effie took him to a bureau in the corner on which sat a wash basin and ewer. Leander liked to perch on the edge of the basin and drink the water—that it was from the same source and therefore identical to the water furnished him in his cage was a fact to which Leander was indifferent.
Effie lit a candle and studied his reflection. For some unfathomable reason, he expected he would look different than he had an hour ago, when he’d been tying his cravat.
He was unchanged. He had even grown accustomed to the short hair.
What had he expected?
Frankly, as illogical as it was, he had expected the upheaval he’d experienced these past few days to be visible somehow. He had expected to look like a man whose heart was at once soaring and half broken, like a man who had everything and was about to return to a life wherein he had to settle for a sliver of everything. For shadows.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at his reflection while Leander preened, only that he was startled when Julianna’s reflection joined his.
She was fully dressed and holding her own candle. She was ready to go back to her room, and in the morning, she would leave. They had cooked up a fiction by which they would hand off “Sarah” in Brighton to a fictional aunt and uncle who would then escort her back to London.
This was the second time Effie and Julianna had met like this, in the mirror. Perhaps he ought to take it as a sign. Perhaps their relationship worked better when it was mediated by something like a mirror. Letters. Perhaps they needed a degree of remove.
For the first time, Effie wondered if this had all been a mistake. Previously, he would have said no, even considering the pain that was coming—the pain that was already here. Meeting Julianna was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. That first day, when they embraced in front of the Pavilion, he would have said meeting her had been worth any price, any pain. But that was back when he felt pain with his heart. His soul.
Julianna had introduced him to his body. Not his body alone but his body as conjoined to his heart and soul. She had made him one, made him whole. He was subject now to an entirely new sort of pain.
Thispain was everywhere, and was suddenly more than he thought he could bear.
“What will happen now?” he asked Julianna’s reflection carefully. He had been following her directive, as well as he could, to live in the present, but it was time to discuss the terms of their ongoing relationship.
“I expect I ought to go back to my room,” she said glibly. “I believe I heard the clock chime four.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
She cocked a head. “What do you mean, then?”
“You know,” he said, not bothering to tamp down the pique in his tone. He was hurt that she would pretend to misunderstand his question, and he didn’t care if she knew it. “And please do me the respect of refraining from saying, ‘There is only now.’”
Her countenance shifted. “Whatcanhappen? We can hardly carry on as we have here. Your absence from my bedchamber earlier meant you knew that, did it not? That is why you were dallying, not because of that cravat.” She nodded at the silk he was still wearing around his neck. It was starting to feel like a noose.
“We cannot carry on as we have here, seeing each other intensely and frequently, all right,” Effie said, “but that doesn’t mean we shan’t be able to see each other at all.”
When she didn’t answer, he began to panic. He tried not to show it, but Leander must have been able to sense it, for he hopped around the edge of the basin until he was facing Effie, and squawked.
The bird seemed to spur Julianna to speech, though she didn’t spare Leander a glance. “When would that happen? Under what circumstances?”
Under less-than-ideal circumstances, he wanted to say.In shadows. In haste.
