kingdom of man where only a small number of the population really belong.”
“A snob.”
Affirmation came with the silence.
“But your circle, Rebecca—now that’s another story. No snobs to be found there?”
“My circle? I wasn’t aware I was in one.”
“I may hold a Cambridge degree equivalent to yours, Rebecca, but you’re the one with the prestige. If my circle is full of social snobs, yours is full of intellectual ones.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Do you see me that way?”
“No. But of our two circles, yours is the harder to penetrate.”
“That’s hardly true, since all one has to do is go to school. We can’t very well try being born into the aristocracy.”
“You have the wrong blood, so you’re forever separate; is that it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You have quite an old-fashioned view of things, Rebecca. You and my mother are more alike than either of you realizes. I can name any number of my mother’s friends who’ve chosen to marry someone outside aristocracy.”
“Perhaps so, but they’ve wanted to join that circle; I don’t.”
“Now who’s the snob?”
“Call it what you like. You see the problem, don’t you?” Even as Rebecca spoke she was wounded by his words. How could he think such a thing, anyway? She’d never considered herself a snob of any kind, least of all an intellectual one.
He set aside his tea to take hold of her hands. “Have I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to. I only thought to counter some of the negatives I thought you would be listing. Let’s go back to the positives, shall we? We’ve already proven we can get along—we’ve worked well together for three years.”
“Not exactly side by side,” she reminded him, thinking that in those three years he’d probably spent less than six months beneath this roof. A month in the summer each year, a month over the holidays.
“So what do we have going for us? You cannot call your faith different from mine, though I’ll admit I have some learning to do. Some relearning, I’ll call it. I also respect you and I’ll take it for granted that you do the same for me, since we’ve gotten along so well in three years of doing business together. Common faith, respect, mutual attraction. That must be more than many marriages have these days, at least ones I’ve observed. You cannot pass up an opportunity to explore this.”
“I can if I truly believe the outcome will only hurt us in the end. And honestly, Quentin, I cannot imagine any other result.”
He moved closer, his knee brushing against hers. “Rebecca, what do you feel?”
Something positive took hold inside Rebecca, weightier than all her cautions combined. Faith would have been their only real obstacle, but if Quentin had responded to the call of God upon his life, there would be no stopping their future.
“I feel . . . hope,” she told him, “whether I want to or not.”
He leaned closer, and so did she, to meet in a kiss. If this was true, nothing could stop them now.
14
* * *
There are days I am too busy to eat, even though I may spend a good deal of time at the dining table. When helping another at mealtime, it is difficult to take a bite for myself. The dinner hour here, Cosima, would have my mother shaking her head in consternation. Noisy, messy, often accompanied by trauma of one sort or another, especially by those most sensitive to sounds, smells, tastes, and textures. I have thoroughly accustomed myself to seeing food go in, then come right back out. Forgive the image, but I am now able to speak of the most extraordinary things. I doubt I shall ever be able to sit at Dowager Merit’s polite table again, for fear of either assisting the person next to me or speaking lovingly yet honestly of my students.
Perhaps this gives you an idea of our mealtime here, the precise time of day we should never hope for a visitor. . . .
“Look what you’ve done!”
The cry, louder than the rest of the noise, came from
“A snob.”
Affirmation came with the silence.
“But your circle, Rebecca—now that’s another story. No snobs to be found there?”
“My circle? I wasn’t aware I was in one.”
“I may hold a Cambridge degree equivalent to yours, Rebecca, but you’re the one with the prestige. If my circle is full of social snobs, yours is full of intellectual ones.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Do you see me that way?”
“No. But of our two circles, yours is the harder to penetrate.”
“That’s hardly true, since all one has to do is go to school. We can’t very well try being born into the aristocracy.”
“You have the wrong blood, so you’re forever separate; is that it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You have quite an old-fashioned view of things, Rebecca. You and my mother are more alike than either of you realizes. I can name any number of my mother’s friends who’ve chosen to marry someone outside aristocracy.”
“Perhaps so, but they’ve wanted to join that circle; I don’t.”
“Now who’s the snob?”
“Call it what you like. You see the problem, don’t you?” Even as Rebecca spoke she was wounded by his words. How could he think such a thing, anyway? She’d never considered herself a snob of any kind, least of all an intellectual one.
He set aside his tea to take hold of her hands. “Have I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to. I only thought to counter some of the negatives I thought you would be listing. Let’s go back to the positives, shall we? We’ve already proven we can get along—we’ve worked well together for three years.”
“Not exactly side by side,” she reminded him, thinking that in those three years he’d probably spent less than six months beneath this roof. A month in the summer each year, a month over the holidays.
“So what do we have going for us? You cannot call your faith different from mine, though I’ll admit I have some learning to do. Some relearning, I’ll call it. I also respect you and I’ll take it for granted that you do the same for me, since we’ve gotten along so well in three years of doing business together. Common faith, respect, mutual attraction. That must be more than many marriages have these days, at least ones I’ve observed. You cannot pass up an opportunity to explore this.”
“I can if I truly believe the outcome will only hurt us in the end. And honestly, Quentin, I cannot imagine any other result.”
He moved closer, his knee brushing against hers. “Rebecca, what do you feel?”
Something positive took hold inside Rebecca, weightier than all her cautions combined. Faith would have been their only real obstacle, but if Quentin had responded to the call of God upon his life, there would be no stopping their future.
“I feel . . . hope,” she told him, “whether I want to or not.”
He leaned closer, and so did she, to meet in a kiss. If this was true, nothing could stop them now.
14
* * *
There are days I am too busy to eat, even though I may spend a good deal of time at the dining table. When helping another at mealtime, it is difficult to take a bite for myself. The dinner hour here, Cosima, would have my mother shaking her head in consternation. Noisy, messy, often accompanied by trauma of one sort or another, especially by those most sensitive to sounds, smells, tastes, and textures. I have thoroughly accustomed myself to seeing food go in, then come right back out. Forgive the image, but I am now able to speak of the most extraordinary things. I doubt I shall ever be able to sit at Dowager Merit’s polite table again, for fear of either assisting the person next to me or speaking lovingly yet honestly of my students.
Perhaps this gives you an idea of our mealtime here, the precise time of day we should never hope for a visitor. . . .
“Look what you’ve done!”
The cry, louder than the rest of the noise, came from
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