Once the family left, life for Sergio and Raquel returned to its normal rhythms. They fell into a routine together that felt so comfortable, Sergio could barely remember what his life had been like before she became a part of it. How had he spent his days in almost complete silence? How had the relentless monotony not driven him crazy? How did he used to get through the day without seeing her smile, without hearing her voice, without talking to her and laughing with her and making music with her? How? January turned into February, and he could no longer imagine his life without her. He never would have thought that having a wife would be so… wonderful.
The only thing that worried him slightly was his health. He had been noticing some strange, seemingly disconnected symptoms that stubbornly persisted over the weeks. One morning, he came down to breakfast, yawning, and she shot him a questioning look.
"Were you up reading again all night?"
"No", he said, "I just couldn't sleep. It's been happening more and more often."
"Do you have anything on your mind?"
"No", he said vaguely, putting food onto his plate, "I don't think so. I just can't stop thinking."
"About your studies?"
"No, just about things we talked about throughout the day. It's very strange."
"Hmm", she said. "You should have a good breakfast if you haven't slept much."
"I don't know…" he said, looking down at his food. "I haven't had much appetite lately either."
She frowned in concern. "Are you getting ill?"
"Maybe I am", he sighed. "I've been experiencing some weird sensations in my stomach."
"Nausea?"
"No, it's… difficult to describe. I've never felt anything like this before."
She looked truly concerned now.
"I think you should consult the doctor."
"Yes", he sighed, "it's been weeks now, perhaps I should. Though I don't feel ill. In fact, I feel great most of the time."
She smiled. "Then it won't be anything too bad. Just some indigestion, probably. I wouldn't worry about it."
She opened her newspaper and scanned the headlines, then her eyes went wide and she said:
"Oh!"
"What?"
"Look… look at page two."
He opened his own newspaper, and immediately saw what she meant.
Spanish Count Killed in Illegal Duel.
He quickly read through the article, which confirmed that it was indeed Count Vicuña, fatally shot in a duel with the husband of a certain Mrs. Mary Blackhill, whom he'd been having an affair with. Sergio looked up at Raquel.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes", she said, looking a little dazed. "I can't believe he's dead. I… I don't know how to feel about that."
"I understand", he said softly. "You did care for him."
She shook her head.
"I only cared for the man he was pretending to be. He… he wasn't a good person. He killed a man and drove a woman to suicide. He shot you! And come to think of it, he was the one who first gave me laudanum, so…"
He looked up sharply.
"He gave you the laudanum?"
"Yes, just for my headache, I'm sure he didn't mean…"
"Did he give you more than one bottle? Did he encourage you to keep taking more?"
"Well… well, yes."
A terrible suspicion was forming in his mind.
"Raquel, I think he was trying to cloud your judgment."
"What?"
"Did you notice that it became harder to think clearly when you were taking it?"
"Yes, I did."
"He was giving you the laudanum to make you easier to influence!"
He had never felt so angry in his life. He thought back at the two days they had spent locked in her room – how she had suffered, how pale she'd been, how she'd cried. The thought that someone had done that to her on purpose made him furious. He wished she'd never met that man, he wished she'd never gone to London – but then a terrible realization dawned him. She'd only met the Count… she'd only been in London… because of him. He felt his anger fade and turn into something more painful. He was the one responsible for this. He'd never meant to drive her away, of course, but he'd done it anyway, because he'd been inattentive, and self-centered, and unconcerned with her happiness. Indirectly, it had been his fault that she'd started taking laudanum, and that she had to go through that terrible withdrawal. He closed his eyes. He had so much to atone for. How could he ever make things up to her?
Raquel, meanwhile, was connecting the dots.
"So… so it wasn't entirely my fault that I went with him?"
"Pardon?"
"If the laudanum was clouding my thoughts, then… then that's why I went with him. I always wondered – I could never really remember what made me decide…"
He nodded. "Yes. You weren't entirely in charge of your mental faculties."
She looked so relieved.
"Oh", she said. "That's… that's so good to know. I was so ashamed."
"Why?"
"Because I should have known better."
He firmly shook his head.
"No. Even if it hadn't been for the laudanum… this wasn't your fault, it was mine."
She shook her head.
"Let's just say we both made mistakes."
"But…"
"Sergio", she said, giving him a slight smile. "Let it go."
He hesitated, then nodded.
"Alright."
"Thank you."
He looked down at the newspaper article again, and his anger returned.
"Well… the Count got what he deserved."
"Yes", Raquel said quietly. "I think he did."
She looked up at him.
"Let's never talk about him again."
"Agreed", Sergio said, folding the newspaper and putting it away. "Let's talk about happier things."
But the thought that he had caused her so much pain wouldn't let him go. Over the next few days, he kept coming back to the idea of atonement, of trying to make right what he had done wrong. He examined his daily actions and he could say with a clear conscience that, yes, he was doing everything he could to make her happy, and he thought she was happy. But he also realized that there was one big part of her life that she had halted completely in order to accommodate him: since she had come back home, she'd been declining all invitations to social events, and she hadn't invited anyone but Elena and her mother and sister to come and visit them, either. He knew she enjoyed socializing and dressing up and dancing, and she must be missing it now. He thought back to last summer, and to the moment he had failed her so badly. He wanted a second chance – and this time, he would do it right.
So one morning at breakfast, he turned to her, took a deep breath, and said:
"I think we should have a ball."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"Excuse me?"
"I think we should invite people and… and have a dance."
Her eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Are you serious? After what happened last time?"
"Because of what happened last time", he said, feeling himself go red. "I want to make up for embarrassing you, Raquel."
"What makes you think it would go better this time?"
"I'll try harder", he said earnestly.
She gave him a soft look.
"Sergio, you don't have to do something you're so uncomfortable with for me."
"But you've been completely out of society for months now, for me."
"Well… yes…"
"Don't you miss it?"
She hesitated.
"A little."
"And what about your reputation as a hostess?"
She gave him a slight smile.
"What do you care about that?"
"You care", he said firmly. "Which means I care."
She looked at him.
"Are you really serious about this?"
"Yes", he said earnestly. "Let's try this again. Let's… let's overwrite the awful memories we have from last time."
He could see that she wanted to say yes. Finally she nodded.
"Alright, but we need to find a way to make it work for you too. It's nice that you have good intentions, but I don't want you to be miserable all night."
"What do you propose?"
"You greet the guests with me, you socialize for an hour or so, but if it gets too much for you, you go to your study and rest. As long as you come out again to see off the guests with me when they leave."
He nodded gratefully.
"That sounds perfect, thank you."
She suddenly gave him a bright smile, her eyes sparkling.
"Alright. Let's have a ball, then."
…
They set a date, then invitations were sent out and Raquel started work on the arrangements. Unlike last time, Sergio took an interest in the preparations and helped wherever he could, and Raquel appreciated that. She was very apprehensive about the event, afraid that it might lead to another fight between them, but once the invitations were sent, there was no turning back. Moreover, it was true that she had been neglecting her duties as a hostess, and this ball would be a good way to show people that she wasn't trying to isolate herself from society. To her relief, most invitations were accepted. Tatiana sent her apologies, saying that baby Robbie wasn't well and she needed to stay home, and Elena was needed in London, but to Raquel's delight, Monica accepted.
Last time, both she and Sergio had worn their wedding clothes, but it had been such a disaster that it felt like bad luck to do it again, so they went into London together for a day to have new clothes made. They visited Tatiana and Andrés, bringing presents for the children, and all in all had a wonderful day in town. Soon, everything was ready for the big day. Raquel felt more nervous now than she had for her first ball, and she was grateful when Monica arrived in the morning to help with the last preparations.
The evening of the ball was cold but dry, and Annie helped Raquel put on her new dress – a lovely shade of green, with a low neckline and delicate little flowers on the sleeves – then Annie pinned up her hair in an elaborate way that looked very elegant. She went downstairs rather breathless with anxiety, but the moment she saw Sergio waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, she felt better. She realized she always felt better when she was near him, and tonight especially. He looked calm and composed, and not nearly as reluctant as last time. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and he smiled at her, and she felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach.
"You look… you look beautiful."
"Thank you", she smiled back, pleased. He looked so handsome himself, and she would give anything to be able to reach up and kiss him.
He gave her an earnest look.
"Thank you for giving me a chance to redeem myself. I won't embarrass you tonight."
"I appreciate that. Don't forget to leave if you're too tired – nobody will notice you're missing when the room is full."
He nodded, then offered her his arm, and they took up position by the door. The guests started to arrive, and Sergio greeted them all with perfect politeness. Raquel kept a close eye on him, but he was holding up much better than last time, his manners impeccable. After the guests had all arrived, they separated for a while to talk to their neighbors, and Raquel was happy to see that he was actually talking this time – he still looked a little uncomfortable, but he was clearly making an effort, and she deeply appreciated it. After about an hour, she saw him come towards her, probably to excuse himself and withdraw to his study, she thought. Instead, he stopped in front of her and held out his hand.
"Will you do me the honor?" he murmured, looking over at the dance floor.
She stared at him.
"You want to dance?"
"That's what people do at balls, isn't it?"
"But… but you hate dancing."
"It's not my favorite thing to do, but I'm… I'm not bad at it. I took lessons, like any young nobleman. I don't think I'll ever forget the steps."
His eyes were warm as he looked at her, still holding out his hand.
"I would love to dance with you, Raquel."
She couldn't quite believe it – this was so much more than she'd expected from him. But of course, she wasn't going to complain if he volunteered, so she gave him a radiant smile and took his hand. He led her to the dance floor, and they waited for the song to end and a new one to start. Then he took her hand in his, and put an arm around her waist, and she felt more butterflies than ever as they started to dance.
…
His heart was beating fast – he hoped so desperately that he wouldn't make a fool of himself, or her – but the moment the music started, he realized to his relief that he did indeed still remember the steps – he barely even had to think about them. That left him free to focus on her, and he reflected that she really looked extraordinarily beautiful tonight, and that she was an excellent dancer, moving lightly across the floor, seemingly without any effort. They stepped and spun around, and he noticed how easy it was to dance with her, how well they moved together, how natural his arm felt around her waist. He forgot to be embarrassed, he forgot to feel self-conscious in front of all of those people – he was completely lost in her eyes, in her smile, in her nearness. When the music stopped, he didn't let go of her. They stood looking at each other, both a little flushed and out of breath, and as he looked down at her bright eyes, her slightly parted lips, he realized with a sudden perfect clarity that he wanted to kiss her.
The thought took him completely by surprise, but there was no mistaking it: he wanted to pull her closer, and bend his head, and kiss her, and never let her go again. But they were in a room full of people, and they were supposed to be friends, so he let go of her and took a step back, feeling more flustered than he ever had in his life.
"I… would you… would you mind if I went to my study now?" he murmured, desperate to get some distance so he could think.
He thought he could see disappointment in her face, but the next moment it was gone as she smiled and nodded.
"Yes, of course. Thank you… thank you for this."
He gave her a slight bow.
"It was my pleasure."
He turned and hurried out of the room, and into the quiet refuge of his study. The moment he got there, he closed the door, then sat behind his desk and took a few deep breaths. What had just happened? Had he just… gotten caught up in the moment? But no… no, as he thought about it, he realized that he had wanted to kiss her for a long time, and he just hadn't realized it. The thought baffled him. Never in his life had he wanted to bring his face that close to another person's, yet now… now all he could think about was the way she had looked up at him just now, and he couldn't help but wonder how soft her lips would be, or… or what she would taste like. He blinked in consternation. What was wrong with him? Why did he want nothing more than to go back out there, and take her hand, and lead her to a quiet place and then press his lips against hers and…
It hit him like a blow over the head. The insomnia. The loss of appetite. The heart palpitations and strange sensations which only seemed to occur when she was near. The way his heart leapt when she smiled at him, and the way he always seemed so much happier when she was in the room. The way she brightened his life. He stared unseeingly at the wall. This was impossible. This couldn't be happening – not to him. Yet if he put two and two together, it was the only thing that made sense. Yes – he thought, feeling dazed and overwhelmed and so confused – there was only one logical conclusion… he was in love with his wife.
Everything suddenly made so much sense, and he couldn't believe that he hadn't realized it before. He had just never thought of it as something that might conceivably ever happen to him, but of course, of course he was in love with her. He thought back to the night he had spent sleeping next to her, how he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the bed, even though he knew he should. He remembered looking at her in that snowy field on New Year's Eve, and thinking she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He remembered the way his breath had hitched when she came down the stairs earlier that night. Of course he was in love with her – how could he not be? She was… extraordinary.
He spent a long time sitting behind his desk, just trying to make sense of things, going over the past few months and all the time they had spent together, seeing it all in a new light now. It was hard for him to really accept that he was in love – it went against everything he had ever believed about himself, and it was difficult to process. Finally he decided to go back out there – he had to see her, he had to make absolutely sure of what he was feeling.
When he came back into the ballroom, he almost bumped into her at the door, and once again his heart leapt at the sight of her, and he immediately got the confirmation he needed. Yes, now that he knew what to look for, he finally recognized the feeling for what it was: he was most definitely in love with her. He looked at her, and his heart started beating madly. Deeply in love.
She smiled at him.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes", he whispered. "Yes, I think I am."
"Good. You're right on time – people are starting to leave."
He blinked. Oh, of course, they were still in the middle of a ball, and he had to perform his duties as the host. He suddenly remembered that this was where he had failed her last time, so he pulled himself together, turned away from her with the greatest effort, and started shaking hands with the departing guests. People streamed out in an excruciatingly slow trickle, and he couldn't believe how long this was all taking – he just wanted to be alone, he needed time to figure out what this meant. He kept glancing at her – he just couldn't help himself – and every once in a while she looked back at him and smiled, and every single time his heart skipped a beat. Oh, he was in trouble.
Finally, only Monica was left – she would be staying the night. She came up to them and embraced her friend.
"Oh Raquel", she said, "that was a wonderful night! Congratulations!"
"Thank you", Raquel said, smiling. "I'm glad that everything went so well."
"And congratulations to you too, Sergio", Monica smiled.
"Thank you", he said. "I… I think I'm going up to bed."
"Yes", Raquel said, "you must be tired."
He nodded, though he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for hours. He wished the ladies goodnight, then turned around and headed out. When he reached the foot of the stairs, however, he heard Raquel call his name, and he turned around to see her come up to him.
"I just wanted to say thank you", she smiled. "You were wonderful tonight."
She put a hand on his arm, then stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, which produced a feeling in his stomach exactly as if he'd missed a step on the stairs.
"Goodnight."
She turned and went into the drawing room with Monica, while he stood there, his heart racing, his breath held, his cheek tingling, all because she'd given him a kiss. God, he was in so much trouble.
He went up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he let himself fall fully clothed on the bed and rubbed a hand over his eyes – this wasn't good. They had agreed to be just friends after she came back – he could still hear her say that her feelings for him were gone now. And yet, he couldn't help but think… they had grown a lot closer over the past few months. If… if he had been falling in love with her… couldn't there be the slightest possibility that she'd been falling in love with him in return? He tried to think, tried to remember if there had been any signs… They spent a lot of time together, but well, they did live in the same house. He knew he was terrible at reading people. He thought he could detect that she liked him, but how much? Then he remembered the way she'd looked at him after they danced, and how he thought he saw disappointment in her face when he pulled away. Could she… could she possibly have feelings for him too?
The thought of it made something sing in his chest, and suddenly a whole vista of glorious possibilities opened up. They were married, after all. The implications of this were astounding… they could change his entire life. Because if she reciprocated his feelings… there was nothing keeping them apart. There was nothing that would stop him from talking to her – not… not now of course, but maybe in a few days? Maybe at some point he could tell her how he felt and… and kiss her. The mere thought of it made him dizzy with confusion and longing – the thought of wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers… oh. And then his thoughts went even further, because… because perhaps she would ask him into her bedroom? Perhaps he could sleep next to her again, like he'd been wanting to do since that one night? Perhaps… He swallowed hard at the thoughts that were crowding into his mind. Oh no, he couldn't think of doing that yet, but oh, if he could hold her, just hold her, that would be perfection.
But there was no need to hurry anything, he would take his time, see how he felt around her over the next few days, get used to the idea. After all, he had to be careful. There was the possibility that she didn't feel the same way about him, and he would hate to make her feel uncomfortable around him – or worse, obligated in some way to do things she might not want to do because she was his wife. No, he would have to be very careful. Over the next few days, he would observe her closely and see if he could detect any signs that she might be in love with him too, and only then would he consider talking to her. He dared to be carefully optimistic, but he needed to be certain, both about his own feelings and about hers. Just a few days, and then he would know for sure. That evening, he lay awake for hours, thinking about her and smiling, still reeling a little from the realization, but also curiously happy, and more hopeful than he had ever felt in his life.
…
The next morning, Raquel and Monica went down to breakfast a little early.
"It really was a wonderful night yesterday", Monica said as they sat down at the table.
"Yes", Raquel smiled. "And I'm so glad Sergio held up better this time."
Monica gave her a close look.
"Raquel", she said. "How are things between the two of you?"
"Good", she said carefully. "We… our arrangement works really well for us."
"So you're still just… friends?"
"Like I told you in my letters, yes."
Monica hesitated.
"Raquel, forgive me, but… is that really what you want?"
"What do you mean?" Raquel said, evading the question.
Monica gave her a soft look.
"I watched you last night when you danced with him. You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Raquel swallowed. Had she been that obvious? She didn't reply, and Monica continued:
"And I think he's in love with you too."
Raquel stared at her.
"What?"
"The way he was looking at you… I'm not sure, of course, but it did seem…"
Raquel was shaking her head.
"No", she said firmly. "No, he might care for me, but he's not in love with me."
"How can you be sure?"
"He told me, Monica. He told me that he's not capable of that kind of love."
"Maybe he just didn't know that he is?"
"He's a grown man, he should know by now."
Monica smiled.
"You might be surprised what grown men aren't aware of sometimes."
For a second, hope flickered in her chest. Could Monica be right? It was true that she and her husband had grown so much closer over the past few months, that he seemed to appreciate her company, that he had cared for her when she was sick, that he often smiled at her.
"I really think he might feel the same way you do…" Monica encouraged her quietly. "Perhaps you should talk to him?"
She looked at the open door – should she go find him? But no, no, suddenly the memory of the conversation she had had with him after the last ball came back to her so clearly – how she'd as good as confessed her feelings for him, and how he'd looked at her with pity, and how humiliated she'd felt. She couldn't stay in the house with him after that – she couldn't let that happen again – she could not make that same mistake.
"No, Monica", she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I know he cares for me, I'm sure of that, but only as family. As friends."
"Raquel…"
"I'm not doing this again!" she said, feeling tears burn behind her eyes. "I'm not going to hope that… that I might be more to him than that – I'll only end up hurt again. We have something so great now, I… I can't risk losing that."
Monica was looking at her, and Raquel hated the pity she saw in her friend's eyes, so she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and said decidedly:
"And besides, you're wrong. I'm not in love with Sergio anymore."
"Alright", Monica said soothingly, "alright, of course you know best."
The servants came in with the breakfast dishes, and Raquel was just wondering where Sergio was when a footman came in saying that Lord Marquina had decided to skip breakfast this morning and was taking a walk instead. Raquel frowned in concern – was he not feeling well? But no, it was perfectly like Sergio not to be in the mood for company after last night. He probably just needed some time alone.
…
Sergio had barely slept, but he woke up full of nervous energy, and his first thought was Raquel. He couldn't wait to see her. It was still hard to really wrap his head around the fact that he was in love with her, and he knew he needed some time to really come to grips with it. But there was no reason to rush things – he would take things slowly, test the waters, see how she felt. The thought that he might have to talk to her about his feelings at some point was scary… but on the other hand, there was the image of holding her in his arms, and the thought of that was so strong, so appealing, that he knew he would take the risk eventually. He would not let his fears keep him from her – for once in his life, he would be brave.
He got out of bed and dressed with care, then went down the stairs, his stomach churning and his heart beating fast at the thought of seeing her. Monica would be leaving soon, and then they'd spend the day together, as usual, and he could try to see how she felt about him. It would be weird to be around her now that his perception of her had shifted so drastically – but at the same time, she was still the same wonderful person with whom he felt so at ease.
He walked towards the open door of the dining room, and as he came closer, he heard that the women were already at the table. He was almost at the door when he heard Raquel's voice, clear as day:
"… can't risk losing that. And besides, you're wrong. I'm not in love with Sergio anymore."
He froze.
Oh.
He heard Monica reply something, and then the servants walked past him with the breakfast dishes. He stopped one of the footmen, said he was going for a walk, then turned around and walked away – he needed to process this. He couldn't – he couldn't see her now, so he put on his coat and walked out the door, headed for the forest.
Oh.
She wasn't in love with him.
He shook his head, suddenly angry at himself – of course she wasn't, why had he been fooling himself? After the way he had treated her? After she had spent months away from him, and after she had fallen in love with another man? Of course her feelings for him were gone – she'd said so herself.
He felt empty. Well, he tried to tell himself, at least now he knew. At least he hadn't made a fool of himself by confessing anything to her. It was good that he'd found out this way, now things wouldn't have to be awkward between them. He shook himself and firmly resolved not to give her any reason to suspect how he felt about her – he would try his hardest to respect her wishes and her boundaries, and not to make her uncomfortable.
Really, he thought, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, this changed nothing. They could still go on as they had before – and he had been happy with the way things were going. He could still be happy. They would still live together, he would still get to see her every day and talk to her and go out walking and play chess with her. That was so much more than he had ever hoped to gain from this relationship in the beginning, and he should be grateful for that – he was grateful for that. Nothing had changed. He would still try his hardest to make her happy. He walked among the trees, not caring where he was going, and repeated it to himself, over and over again: nothing had changed. And yet, there was a small voice in the back of his mind that told him that, for him at least, nothing would ever be the same again.