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I pulled a hat off a shelf. It was stiff and well made, but the material covering it was velvety soft to the touch. I placed it on his head, stepping back to admire it. “You look like a poet.” I smiled. He reached up and tentatively stroked the hat. I forged ahead, with my quickly hardening idea. “You will convince your father that the Eastern languages are useful. Think of how much is left unbought, unsold, because we cannot adequately communicate with the merchants there! Why, a man with the connections of your father and the skills to speak clearly with the merchants of Arabia and China could build an empire!”
Henry took the hat, turning it in his hands. “I have never thought of it that way. I could learn the languages because I love them—”
“And the poetry!” I added.
He beamed. “And the poetry!”
“To better understand their cultures and relate to them…” I smiled slyly. “It would be important and would aid you in gaining foreigners’ trust.”
He laughed. “You know, Elizabeth, I think you could convince Winter to leave early and give all his territory to Spring if only you could talk to him.”
“That might be too big a task for even me. But we will convince your father yet of the practical uses of Arabic poetry. Then you will join Victor at university. And you will write me how he is. I worry about him.” I paused. Henry offered two new futures. Good, sweet, dear Henry. “And if you meant it, about marrying me, you will need to talk to Victor. I know his mother always treasured the thought of Victor and me marrying, but he and I have never spoken of it. I do not know how he feels on the subject, and I could never enter into a betrothal without his blessing. We cannot hurt him.”
“I would sooner die than hurt him!” Henry said. But his face was alight with earnest excitement. “I think your idea will work, Elizabeth. I will go to university. And then…then we will both have a future to think about.” He smiled bashfully.
“Yes. A future.” I smiled, feigning demureness. My mind whirled as I bought him the hat with the meager pocket money I had managed to save. Victor would return, afraid of losing me, or give Henry his blessing. Either way, I would be saved from the constant threat of destitution.
I hoped, for Henry’s sake, that Victor would return. I suspected marrying me would be the great tragedy of Henry’s life. He deserved someone who could accept a proposal with a joyful heart, not a calculating and conniving mind.
Besides, I already knew how to be Victor’s. I did not want to learn how to be anyone else’s.
* * *
—
Justine was waiting outside for Mary and me when we arrived. How long she had been on the walk in front of the boardinghouse she did not say, though I suspected it was from the moment Frau Gottschalk unlocked the door.
The doctor would allow only one of us in to see Victor, so Mary took Justine to the bookshop while I sat at Victor’s side. He was already much improved, the color in his cheeks less alarming and his body able to sweat once again. The nurse showed me how to painstakingly get liquid into his mouth—enough that he would be hydrated, but not so much that he would choke in his insensible state.
After a c
ouple of hours, I thought he was waking. He began muttering, his eyebrows drawing together in that expression that was as familiar to me as my own face.
“Too big,” he muttered. “Too big. Too willful. I made thee out of clay.”
I bathed his forehead and used this opportunity to get some water down his throat. He coughed, sputtering.
“No! Eve from a rib. The rib is smaller.”
I stroked his cheek and his hand shot up and wrapped around my wrist. His eyes opened, red and furious. He pulled me close, his urgency palpable. “Eve,” he said. “The rib.”
“I understand,” I murmured. “That is an excellent point.”
Letting out a relieved sigh, he relaxed back into slumber. I realized the nurse had entered the room, and was grateful that Victor had not said anything suspicious.
“Good boy. Knows his Bible.”
“Yes.” I stood, straightening my skirts. In fact, that was one of the few books Victor had never found any use for.
* * *
—
With the doctor confident that Victor would be lucid within a day and that there was no danger of him worsening in the meantime, I spent the night in the boardinghouse with Justine. I had no secret errands to run, and I did not want any time alone with Mary, lest she think of more questions I would not answer.
Frau Gottschalk was predictably unpleasant. My dreams were worse. I once again awoke in the middle of the night, breathless with the feeling that I had been in the middle of a bleak conversation, pleading for my life. I went to the window with hopes I could work it open for a stirring of fresh air. The loose slat was easily removed, but I could not get through to the glass behind it. I pressed my face to it and looked longingly at the night.
And discovered the night was looking back.
