Chapter Thirty-One #2
“Yes,” Rebecca said, irritation creeping into her voice.
“Lot of good that did either of us. He insisted that it didn’t matter, that ‘we’ were worth it.
” She sniffled a little before shaking her head.
“The idea that I would be someone worth changing one’s life over—” She swallowed.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. We don’t need to discuss it.
I’m tired of discussing it. Let’s discuss how you enjoyed guests or how your stomach is faring,” she tried, searching for engagement upon any topic but the one in front them.
This was not who she was, not her role. She didn’t need—
“Do you think I’m delusional, Rebecca?” It was Isabelle who asked the question, her voice suddenly sharp and once again oddly reminiscent of her grandmother’s. The old woman could just retire now.
“Pardon?” she asked, turning to her friend. She loved her, but she really could not take much more pretenses and kindness.
“I’m extraordinary, and thus, I wouldn’t waste my time with anyone who wasn’t extraordinary as well,” Isabelle declared.
“No, you imprinted on me because I minded you as an infant,” Rebecca corrected. “I adore you, but I recognize that you don’t always see me clearly because of our long relationship and our differences in statuses and—”
Isabelle set down her teacup. “You don’t truly think such a thing matters to me, do you?” she asked slowly, unmistakable hurt in her dark eyes.
“No, I—” Rebecca paused, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t matter whether it does or not. It exists. The rest of the world sees it. And speaks of it.” Quite a bit.
“Since when do you care what the rest of the world thinks?” Isabelle asked.
“Since always,” Hannah declared calmly.
Isabelle’s eyes grew wide as she turned toward Rebecca. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“No—I just don’t want—” Once again Rebecca attempted to explain.
“I am plain, I am cold, I am off-putting, and I’m very resistant to change,” she said, her voice shaking.
“But I’m also intelligent. And intelligent people know their place.
Thus, I know my place.” Her voice cracked, but she forced herself onward.
“And I know already that when people see us together, they…” And she could not continue.
“They what?” Isabelle asked, her voice soft.
“They wonder why we’re friends.” Rebecca swallowed the hard lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her throat.
It was all too much. Much too much. “They wonder if I’m a charity project or if I’ve manipulated you in some way.
Just as they’d wonder why Berab would’ve possibly chosen me and find similar theories. ”
Or worse. He would one day realize that they were right, and it would all be over.
“We should really find a way to muzzle certain people. Perhaps we should require an intelligence test for public discourse,” Isabelle mused “We’re friends and shall always be friends, and there’s no questioning it, as I’m cleverer than any of them and know who and what is valuable.
” She straightened in her seat. “Which Roger is not, as if he were, he’d not have let you leave his house. ”
“I think that might be kidnapping, and the Berab family has a tricky relation with that particular offense,” Hannah reminded them, reaching out and grabbing a piece of mandelbrot.
Isabelle blinked for a moment.
“However, as odious as the man is, he is correct about one matter—you’re worth the risk to any reputation,” her friend declared. “I’m sorry you didn’t understand that before.”
Pressure pulsed beneath Rebecca’s chest as she willed herself to believe the words. They were truly hard to believe. She was who she was. Plain, odd, cold, off-putting. She’d never change. She couldn’t.
“Not everyone enjoys what the world tells them to like,” Hannah commented between bites. “If they did, life would be rather boring, and there’d be a great deal of unhappy people.”
Rebecca froze. Was it possible that… what the man had said was true? That it hadn’t been all a rush of nerves but that he did truly love her?
And she loved him back? Fully and truly, exactly how he was?
The answer was right there, right in front of her, and yet, somehow, with all her studies and reading, she’d not been able to see it, despite all the proof. How could she have possibly missed it? How had her skill failed her when she needed it most? A new sense of loss nearly overwhelmed her.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she whispered. “It’s over.” She pressed her lips together. “I left.”
“Yes, of course,” Hannah responded with no small amount of sarcasm. “Because you’re now less than a mile to the east, you can never go back.”
“I told him to marry someone else, and he might have actually listened for once,” she argued.
“He might no longer feel—or be willing. I pushed him away and certainly hurt his pride. And while I was incorrect, I did make a very good case that he was delusional. Perhaps I convinced him, so now he no longer—”
“Perhaps,” Isabelle said, cutting off her stream of words. “But I’ve never seen you fail to correct or state a relevant fact, no matter the skeptics. This would be quite an odd time to start.” A small dimple appeared on her friend’s left cheek.
Both women stared at her once again. Her heart beat so speedily that one would’ve thought it’d explode, even if that was highly unlikely.
Oy, this was terrifying, but so was the prospect of life without the man.
This was a fine time for her to have been a fucking schmuck.
Though if there truly was a possibility she could correct course…
Rebecca inhaled, forcing air through her lungs. “All right,” she told them, raising a finger. “But only because I cannot stand to see falsehoods lie.”
“Would you like me to find you a carriage?” Isabelle asked. “It’s cold out there.”
“The snow is too thick,” Rebecca told her, glancing out the window.
“Perhaps you should wait—” Hannah stopped as Rebecca shook her head.
“No, it must be tonight,” she told them as she permitted the already-prepared Molly to tie her cloak around her shoulders. “Wish me luck.”