Chapter 24 #3
“Try,” Violet murmured. She was trying to keep the peace, and Maria should be grateful for it. But it was too late for that now.
Nicholas’s hand opened helplessly. “I will not allow you to evade any longer. You are to tell me what happened, and you may not consider that to be a request.”
It was the first time that Nicholas had spoken harshly to her, and it snapped something inside of her.
“Nicholas,” Maria said, turning to him at last, “I left because staying felt impossible. That is all I can bear to say in a square that is surrounded by public like this.”
“All right.”
She had hoped that he would back off now, but they made it another five minutes before he tried again.
“I do not understand why you will not allow me to…”
“Because it is not yours,” Maria said. “It’s mine.”
He closed his eyes a fraction.
“You came to me,” he said, still soft. “And now you cannot ask me to pretend I do not care.”
“I have not asked you to pretend anything,” Maria said. “Only to stop pressing me.”
“Perhaps pressing is what a brother is for.”
“Or perhaps listening is,” Violet said calmly, but Nicholas shook his head.
“You were crying on our doorstep at midnight,” he persisted. “I will not simply stroll and purchase ribbons as if…”
“Then buy me none,” Maria snapped, too loud.
They all stilled.
Nicholas lowered his voice. “Maria.”
“I am tired,” she said. “Of being told what I ought to want, what I ought to accept, what constitutes sensibility and sacrifice. I have been trying not to be a burden from the moment you found me, Nicholas. And now, now that I want one thing for myself, I cannot have it, and everyone wants to tell me why that is the correct and noble outcome.”
“What is the one thing?”
She pressed her lips together until they hurt.
“Do not, Nicholas.”
“Let’s find a quieter corner,” Violet said, laying a hand on Maria’s back.
“There is no quiet anywhere,” Maria said, a thread of despair pulling free. “Not in my own head.”
Nicholas reached for her, then stopped.
“I will fix it,” he said, aching with sincerity.
“You cannot fix everything,” she said. “You cannot make Stephen be someone he is not. You cannot make me not want what I want. And you cannot keep asking me to choose between your comfort and my heart.” Her voice rose again, and she hardly cared.
“I will not be a problem to be solved to the satisfaction of the men around me.”
“Is that what I do to you?” Color rose along Nicholas’s cheekbones.
“Today? Yes,” she said. “Today it feels like your love is trapping me instead of freeing me.”
He opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.
“I am sorry,” he managed, “I am… I do not know how to be any other way.”
“Then learn,” she said, and the plea under the sharpness undid him.
“Maria,” Violet said gently, “take a breath.”
The tension was rising, and Maria knew that she must remove herself from the situation promptly.
“I am going to walk,” she said, not looking at either of them. “Ten minutes. Alone. And then I will come back and we can resume as normal.”
Nicholas hesitated.
“I’ll come with you.”
“You will not,” she said, already stepping away. “Ten minutes.”
He made the mistake of following a pace. “But…”
“Nicholas,” Violet said, “perhaps we ought to give her what she is asking for. It is clear that this entire thing has taken a great toll on her.”
“Ten minutes,” he echoed, surrendering.
Maria moved into the crowd. For a few strides, she could still hear Nicholas murmuring to Violet, and then the music and chatter folded over those sounds, and she was just one more figure among many.
Finally.
She let the stream of people carry her past stalls and laughter to the square’s far edge, to the railing where the river’s smell came up dark and clean.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ten minutes to not be anyone’s responsibility.
Children squealed behind her.
Ordinary life. She could almost pretend her chest did not ache.
“Foolish,” she murmured, not sure whether she meant herself or the world.
Bootsteps scuffed near her. She shifted aside to give space, blinking hard to keep the burn in her eyes from spilling.
“Pardon,” a man said, passing.
“Don’t mind me,” she said, managing a small, polite smile.
“Maria!” Nicholas’s voice lifted across the press, closer than before. She turned, instinct and affection pulling her half a step toward the sound.
“Maria!” nearer now. She could just make out Nicholas’s shoulder above the crowd. Violet was beside him as they edged their way through.
“I’m here,” she called, not loud enough, almost relieved.
But then, a hand closed around her upper arm.
She startled, twisting. “Oh… I beg your…”
“Easy,” a man’s voice murmured.
She pulled back.
“Sir, release me at once!”
The hand tightened, and another rose, covering her mouth. She tried to turn her head, to bite, to scream against the palm; she caught a glimpse of pale eyes that she recognized.
Rondell?
“Quiet,” he breathed. “You’ll only make it...”
She bucked her shoulders.
Somewhere beyond the wall of people, Nicholas shouted her name again, sharp with fear. “Maria!”
The man’s grip did not waver, and he pivoted, drawing her with him, and the swirl of bodies knitted tight at their backs like a curtain.
The last thing she heard was Nicholas calling, “Maria!” as she was pulled sideways into the narrow shade of the alley, and the light of the square fell away.