running through it, and my heart was beating fast.
To distract myself, I said, "What are you thinking?"
She turned her head towards me. "Mmm?"
I repeated my question.
Grace looked embarrassed. "You'll think I'm silly, but I was just telling myself,
Soon I'll be Mrs. Charles Sedgewick.
"
"Oh." It was all I could manage.
She smiled. "I'm so glad Charles has met you. I want you two to become friends."
I thought this unlikely.
Charles had stayed for tea and I was shocked when I went into the drawing room and saw him: he seemed so old, a middle-aged man, not at all the gallant admirer I had imagined from Grace's description. When we were introduced, he nodded at me rather stiffly across the teacups. Afterwards he came across and said, "Grace tells me you're quite a reader."
There was something in his tone I didn't care for. Wanting to make sure he realised I didn't just read novels, I told him what I'd been studying lately. Rather than looking impressed, he frowned and said, "Hmm." Then he took his leave of me and went to sit beside Grace, leaving me struggling with painful feelings I couldn't untangle, except for the knowledge that I felt alarmed. Could my cousin really love
him?
Impulsively I asked, "Do you think you'll be happy?"
Grace smiled. "Yes, I think I shall." A faint pink flush appeared on her cheek.
Unbidden, the diagrams in a section of one of Papa's medical textbooks referring to "the act of sexual congress" appeared in my mind.
The first time I'd come across them, I'd stared at them, fascinated and yet with a creeping feeling of unease. I couldn't imagine the reality represented by the diagrams. And soon
Charles would be occupying my place in bed beside Grace ... my stomach lurched again and I felt slightly sick.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I made myself say, "I'm happy for you then."
Grace leant over me and I felt her lips brush my cheek. "Thank you, Lou. You're a dear. And now we must go to sleep. There's so much to do tomorrow." She turned away from me and blew out the candle. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Soon her breathing deepened into sleep.
I lay still, aware of the warmth of her body beside me, of that strange, sweet feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had the oddest desire to put my arms round her and hold her close. I felt such a longing, a painful, lovely feeling that we might be like this always, that we might never be apart. And suddenly with a hot rush it came to me:
I love Grace, I love her.
In a confused way I knew I didn't just love her as cousins do. This was different, this was ... I felt ...
I felt about her in the way that she felt about Charles!
My heart stopped. Then it sped on, as if I was running a race. I was trembling as if I had a fever and I tried to calm myself, to think, but my thoughts scattered like beads of mercury from a broken thermometer.
I told myself:
It can't be true, it can't.
But even as I was denying it, I knew I was deceiving myself.
***
"What do you think, Lou?"
"Sorry?"
"Should we have salmon
and
lobster?"
It was the next morning. We were all sitting in the morning room and Aunt Phyllis and my cousins were discussing the wedding meal.
I shrugged, trying to smile. But I really didn't feel like smiling. I couldn't stop thinking about Grace—and me.
I kept telling myself that I must be mistaken. Of course I loved Grace, that was natural. We were cousins...
But this was different. This was ... I didn't know what else to name it. This was being
in love.
But how could I be in love with her? If it were true, what did it mean? And what would Grace think of me if she knew?
I'd lain awake for hours, not daring to go to sleep in case I accidentally moved too close to her and gave myself away. Now I felt tired and wretched and the questions wouldn't stop chasing each other round and round in my head.
I dragged my attention back to the conversation.
"We must have jellies, blancmange,
and
fruit tarts." Maud had abandoned her efforts to be grown-up
To distract myself, I said, "What are you thinking?"
She turned her head towards me. "Mmm?"
I repeated my question.
Grace looked embarrassed. "You'll think I'm silly, but I was just telling myself,
Soon I'll be Mrs. Charles Sedgewick.
"
"Oh." It was all I could manage.
She smiled. "I'm so glad Charles has met you. I want you two to become friends."
I thought this unlikely.
Charles had stayed for tea and I was shocked when I went into the drawing room and saw him: he seemed so old, a middle-aged man, not at all the gallant admirer I had imagined from Grace's description. When we were introduced, he nodded at me rather stiffly across the teacups. Afterwards he came across and said, "Grace tells me you're quite a reader."
There was something in his tone I didn't care for. Wanting to make sure he realised I didn't just read novels, I told him what I'd been studying lately. Rather than looking impressed, he frowned and said, "Hmm." Then he took his leave of me and went to sit beside Grace, leaving me struggling with painful feelings I couldn't untangle, except for the knowledge that I felt alarmed. Could my cousin really love
him?
Impulsively I asked, "Do you think you'll be happy?"
Grace smiled. "Yes, I think I shall." A faint pink flush appeared on her cheek.
Unbidden, the diagrams in a section of one of Papa's medical textbooks referring to "the act of sexual congress" appeared in my mind.
The first time I'd come across them, I'd stared at them, fascinated and yet with a creeping feeling of unease. I couldn't imagine the reality represented by the diagrams. And soon
Charles would be occupying my place in bed beside Grace ... my stomach lurched again and I felt slightly sick.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I made myself say, "I'm happy for you then."
Grace leant over me and I felt her lips brush my cheek. "Thank you, Lou. You're a dear. And now we must go to sleep. There's so much to do tomorrow." She turned away from me and blew out the candle. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Soon her breathing deepened into sleep.
I lay still, aware of the warmth of her body beside me, of that strange, sweet feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had the oddest desire to put my arms round her and hold her close. I felt such a longing, a painful, lovely feeling that we might be like this always, that we might never be apart. And suddenly with a hot rush it came to me:
I love Grace, I love her.
In a confused way I knew I didn't just love her as cousins do. This was different, this was ... I felt ...
I felt about her in the way that she felt about Charles!
My heart stopped. Then it sped on, as if I was running a race. I was trembling as if I had a fever and I tried to calm myself, to think, but my thoughts scattered like beads of mercury from a broken thermometer.
I told myself:
It can't be true, it can't.
But even as I was denying it, I knew I was deceiving myself.
***
"What do you think, Lou?"
"Sorry?"
"Should we have salmon
and
lobster?"
It was the next morning. We were all sitting in the morning room and Aunt Phyllis and my cousins were discussing the wedding meal.
I shrugged, trying to smile. But I really didn't feel like smiling. I couldn't stop thinking about Grace—and me.
I kept telling myself that I must be mistaken. Of course I loved Grace, that was natural. We were cousins...
But this was different. This was ... I didn't know what else to name it. This was being
in love.
But how could I be in love with her? If it were true, what did it mean? And what would Grace think of me if she knew?
I'd lain awake for hours, not daring to go to sleep in case I accidentally moved too close to her and gave myself away. Now I felt tired and wretched and the questions wouldn't stop chasing each other round and round in my head.
I dragged my attention back to the conversation.
"We must have jellies, blancmange,
and
fruit tarts." Maud had abandoned her efforts to be grown-up
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