Chapter 42
Although she knew she’d be tired the next day, Aurelia didn’t bother attempting to nap before midnight that night.
She was home by nine thirty and decided to give in to her rushing thoughts and try sorting them out.
Sitting on the squishy armchair in her flat, she sipped tea and worked through those thoughts one by one.
Most insistent were her thoughts about Oliver.
She was still getting to know him, really, but she couldn’t deny she was attracted to him.
No matter how many times she told herself she wasn’t interested, the fluttering sensation that had become a full-on tug every time he flashed one of his best smiles was a sure sign of it.
But while he said he was trying to make time in his life for a relationship, that didn’t mean he wanted one with her.
And she didn’t have much time for a relationship herself—not when she was working so hard to finish Vronsky’s story.
It wasn’t just that. There was the fact that she hadn’t dated anyone since her mother died.
She’d lost two people she’d loved too quickly.
Keeping her circle of loved ones small felt safer, better than finding someone new she might love and one day lose.
And there was the fact that, as these thoughts were swirling in her head, she was very conscious of each passing minute bringing her closer to midnight and the characters she was about to see.
The word characters alone made the impossibility of starting something new with Oliver—with anyone, for that matter—all the more obvious.
She’d managed to hide her secret life at the shop from everyone else, but hiding it from a boyfriend would invite the sort of chaos she’d been trying so hard to avoid after losing her mother and Marigold.
And, still and always, there was the lingering sadness waiting at the edge of her feelings, threatening to break through.
Working on Vronsky’s story had made her feel as though she could take control of the spinning threads of fate.
The idea that she could write him a story that would change his life for the better gave her a purpose, made her feel as though despite everything she’d lost, she could still reach out and hold onto something solid.
As she sat in her living room, Aurelia thought again that something ‘better’ for Vronsky might mean helping him to open up to loving someone new.
It wasn’t fair not to share Oliver’s note, and her own belief now, that his sequel wouldn’t be complete without giving him a chance to find love again.
Even if she was in no position to move on with her own life, she at least owed Vronsky a choice in his.
It would be a difficult conversation but as his friend, as someone who wanted the very best for him, she could help him see that he didn’t have to choose a future without love.
When the clock struck midnight that night, Aurelia was downstairs, standing at her desk as her visitors appeared from their books.
She watched Vronsky struggling to smile and greet the others as he fought through the emotions he always brought with him from the end of his novel.
After saying her hellos to everyone, Aurelia asked him if they could talk privately, up at the window seat.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked once they were settled.
“Better?”
“Elinor informed us that you were afflicted with a headache last night.”
“Oh! A headache… Yes, I did have one last night and that’s why I left early,” she improvised quickly. “But I’m better now.”
“Shall we resume our project tonight, or would you prefer a respite in order to recuperate?”
“Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. You remember I was meeting with Oliver tonight?”
“Did that engagement take place this evening?”
“Yes. We met for dinner and I gave him the revisions.”
“You met him alone? At a restaurant?”
Oh great, thought Aurelia, here we go.
“In my time, women don’t need a chaperone to have dinner alone with a man,” she said with a smirk. “My honor is very much intact.”
Vronsky snorted out a laugh.
“At dinner we talked about one edit that I hadn’t mentioned to you before, something he’d asked me to consider when I saw him earlier this week. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about it.”
“Yes?”
“He asked—he suggested—that the story would be more interesting if we wrote a love interest for you.”
“A what?”
“A love interest. A romantic storyline.”
Vronsky was silent, watching her.
“He thinks the story would be better with one, and after thinking about it… I agree with him.”
Vronsky continued to stare at her, his eyes hardening as he took in her words.
“Alexei, how can we write your life story without love?” Aurelia reasoned.
“My life has not been without love,” he said, iron in his voice.
“No, of course not—not in the past,” she said, shaking her head at her careless mistake.
“But what about your future? This whole project is about trying to help you find a happier ending. And what would that look like without love? Oliver is right—he reminded me that yours is one of the greatest love stories in literature. We can’t write a future for you that leaves you alone when you deserve so much more. ”
“You say this was Oliver’s idea. He insists?”
“He doesn’t insist, but he thinks it would be a mistake not to write about you falling in love again. And I agree with him.”
“What right does he have to dictate my life?” Vronsky’s tone was heated, growing angrier by the moment.
“He’s not dictating, he’s just suggesting. He’s an editor—he knows what makes a good story.”
“You told me to ‘think big,’ but now you want me to think like a small-minded man I’ve never met? A man who dines at a restaurant alone with a woman?” Vronsky’s voice rose with each word.
“I told you, that’s completely normal in my time.”
She was losing her footing now that he was gaining steam.
“Not in mine! You pushed me to write this, you cajoled me and now we have to change our story to suit this self-important—”
“Alexei—”
“No! I will not have it,” he said, standing.
“I am tired of rules, what I can and cannot do, who I can and cannot love, who will or will not allow it.” His voice cracked and Aurelia knew he wasn’t thinking about a new relationship now, but about his relationship with Anna, and everyone and everything that had conspired against them.
“But we could write whatever you want—we could create a woman that you love. You can decide what you want to say to her. You can decide that society adores her and welcomes you both.”
Vronsky barely seemed to register what she was saying as he paced in front of her.
“Write what you like. With any luck, the experiment will work and I shall be free of this Oliver and this… this shop!”
Aurelia flinched at his words.
“Do you know, you went on and on about women having choices, yet you seem all too eager to write whatever Oliver tells you.”
“That’s not fair!” she said, leaping to her feet. “I’m not blindly following his orders. I’ve thought about what he has to say and I think he’s right. He’s a very talented editor. I’ve been impressed with his work and his suggestions—and so have you, for that matter!”
Vronsky’s face fell.
“I see,” he said softly. “This has nothing to do with me and my story. You have taken an interest in this Oliver.”
“What? What do you mean?”
She felt her face shaping itself into a guilty expression against her will.
He looked at her incredulously but said nothing. Aurelia felt as if she were fighting with David, only David would have used any hint that she liked Oliver to try and force them together.
“There’s nothing between me and Oliver. He made a suggestion and I agree with him, that’s all. You have to know I would never push something on you just to please someone else.”
“You promised me a new ending, my own ending, and now I have to watch as you allow this Oliver to warp my story to suit his own ends,” Vronsky said, his voice quietly seething with anger.
He turned away from her to face the window just as Aurelia caught sight of Elinor, who was slowly making her way toward them.
“We heard your voices downstairs,” she said cautiously. “I see you are in the grips of powerful emotions and wonder if there is anything we might do to ease your distress?”
“I’m alright. We’re alright, thank you, Elinor.” Aurelia tried to collect herself. “I’m sorry for making such a scene.”
She looked down to the shop below and saw everyone quickly turn away.
Just as quickly, Vronsky stalked to the spiral staircase, barreled down it, and disappeared into a far corner of the shop. Aurelia opened her mouth to speak to him as he passed, but nothing came out. She sat back on the seat and stared out across the mezzanine.
Elinor sat next to her, a gentle presence at her side.
“I take it you raised Oliver’s suggestion with Count Vronsky.”
“I did.”
“It seems it did not go well.”
“It did not,” Aurelia agreed.
“We knew it would be a painful subject to raise, but it is nonetheless difficult seeing him so very angry.”
“Especially when I’m the one that’s done it,” Aurelia said. “I’ve brought back awful memories and here we were trying to help him move on from all that.”
“He will remember your good efforts, I have no doubt. But for tonight, he must recover himself. I do believe he, too, has thought about finding love again, despite his protestations.”
“Maybe… But now I’m afraid he’ll refuse to consider it ever again.”
“Give him time,” Elinor said kindly.
They talked in hushed tones for a while longer, but Vronsky stayed in his self-imposed exile for the rest of the night.