Chapter 10
GRACE
“Unbelievable!” True.
“Preposterous!” Sort of.
“Unlawful!” Is it?
“Impossible!”
Grace ran out of words as she collapsed onto the divan in Rivka’s drawing room.
“Not so impossible,” said Rivka, stirring the steaming herb tea in a cup. “You are, after all, Mrs. Mawr now.”
“Do remind me again!” Grace snapped.
The pinkish glow of the sun shone through the red curtains.
The flat was in the back of the drug store Rivka worked in, helping her grandfather, though the store’s reputation wasn’t for its medicines but Rivka’s “gifts.” Its revenue was modest compared to the general donations of those who came asking for Rivka’s help.
Either for healing or advice. But mostly, hoping to solve their problems and heartaches.
Rivka saw them all—the past, future, happy and tragic.
Her “sight” was rumored to be the curse of the devil, but her gift helped many.
“It is all meant to be,” Rivka said to Grace.
“You and your amor fati !” Grace exclaimed in annoyance, rose from the divan, and started pacing around the room.
“Nietzsche preached the love of fate. One does not have to love but simply has to accept the grand plan of the future.”
“Grand all right,” Grace muttered, discouraged.
Rebecca, or Rivka, as she preferred to be called by close fiends, was only four years older than Grace but so much wiser. As if her “sight” gave her some ancient wisdom into the meaning of life.
“Take this.” Rivka passed her a cup of tea.
“No. You are giving me yet another potion to calm down. I am calm.” Grace took the cup, nevertheless. “It’s just… Do you see something?”
She cast her pleading eyes at smiling Rivka.
Black hair piled on top of her head, a dress with ethnic designs, and a cotton summer shawl over her shoulders, Rivka radiated the motherly care that often reassured Grace more than her words.
But not today.
“Tsk, of course, you won’t,” Grace muttered reproachfully. “You never tell me anything. Though you know. I know you know!”
Grace circled the room, taking in the so-familiar scent of herbs and medicine.
She had spent a lot of time here over the years and was used to the subtle smell of the incenses and old furniture.
This room was dearer to her than the house she’d grown up in, wealthy but lonely, with its empty rooms and strict rules.
Her parents had passed a long time ago and left quite a bit of money that was now gone.
Her guardians had treated her like a pretty bird in a cage.
“What am I to do?” Grace asked again as Rivka lit an incense stick, and the warm smell of lavender spread across the room. “Will he hurt me?”
“He will not.”
“Will he keep me locked up in the house?”
“Gracie…” Rivka creased her eyebrows in pity, knowing well what sort of punishments Grace had had to endure with the Sommervilles.
“Will he ruin me?” Grace asked with despair, searching her eyes. Rivka never said anything without “knowing.”
“What do you mean by ruin ?”
“Ah, you see? Already, you are sowing seeds of worry in me.”
“I do not, Gracie. Perhaps, he will ruin your understanding of who you are and who you are meant to be. Or what he is.”
Grace closed her eyes and whimpered in helplessness. This philosophical nonsense did not help much in calming her.
“Are you practicing for your performance at the marchioness’s Summer Ball?” Rivka changed the topic.
“Distracting me, aren’t you?” Grace feigned anger, though she could never be cross with her friend. She sighed, thinking about the performance. “I wrote to my guardians about my piano. They never responded. They did not bother writing back, Rivka! They never wanted me. No, no, I know it now.”
She bit her lip to hold back tears and took a seat on the divan again.
“And do you know what the most awful thing is?” Grace lifted her eyes to her friend. “There is no piano in that house.” His house. “He’s been to my performances. But what if he hates music?”
Just like them…
Smiling, Rivka walked over and took a seat next to Grace. Her warm hand softly touched Grace’s shoulder. “Then you ask him, my lovely. He is your husband.”
“But how?” Grace asked almost in a whisper. “We pretend that this union is on paper only. And I tried to… Well, you know the story… Quite embarrassing. Wasn’t so smart of me. And you want me to ask him for things after that?”
Rivka brushed her fingers along the ruffled neckline of Grace’s dress, adjusting it. “Do not be so stubborn, my lovely. Life is a compromise. Instead of resenting what comes your way, try to embrace it and learn. Make a deal.”
“A deal…” Grace snorted. By God, even her friend now sounded like him.
Grace couldn’t accept him, not yet, not until she knew what had transpired between him and Charles and what her part in this was.
This was a nightmare. Just like the nightmares she’d had since childhood. Just like the aches she’d had since she was little, though Rivka’s healing rituals had made them much less frequent.
Now he haunted her, his mesmerizing green eyes and handsome expressionless face, his soft voice and brutal scars.
The way he lifted a cigarette to his mouth, the way he flexed his big hands, his calm possessive gaze that made one feel that everything, including people, was his domain.
The way that gaze bore into her as if he could read her every thought.
On paper, this man was her husband—the fact was truly bewildering.
What scared her was that he might turn out to be like her guardians, cold and distant. Or like some of the husbands she’d heard about, abusive and cruel. A monster? No, no, Grace did not deserve to spend more of her life in a cage.
She had thought of the episode in the dining room a dozen times, replaying it, repeating his words. He wasn’t rough or violent. On the contrary, there was a gentle force in his movements and the way his hand held her chin in place.
She bit her lip at the memory.
It must have reflected on her face because Rivka’s hand was on her shoulder again. “How are you feeling lately?”
She meant the pains, which came much rarer now. Years of healings, the potions and the prayers—they worked, just like Rivka had said.
Grace listened to her body—the throbbing under her ribs had started again in the last couple of days, but there were more pressing issues to deal with.
“At a loss,” Grace said instead and sadly smiled at the floor.