47
The lights were low, the house was quiet, it was deep into the evening. Victoria sat on the parlor sofa, drowsy, her head resting on Victor's shoulder. One of his arms was about her. She held his other hand in her lap, gentle and close as she might a baby bird. Victor's cheek rested on her head.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to.
Victoria snuggled in closer, turning her head so that she could breathe him in. Cedar and soap and a smell of outdoors that clung to his clothes from earlier in the day. Overcome with affection she raised his hand to her lips and briefly kissed it before returning it to her lap. Victor pulled her closer, sighed into her hair before dropping a peck just at her hairline.
The clock ticked. Outside the dark windows a nighttime wind was picking up. The fire was dying down to embers. It was fanciful, but all the same Victoria thought that the warm contentment filling her heart just then spilled out into the parlor and spread into the entire house. She imagined it like a golden mist, filling up their home to the rooftop, full to bursting with affection and domestic bliss.
Once more she kissed Victor's fingers. Then she tilted up her face to give him a proper kiss.
They stayed for a long time with their foreheads pressed together, simply breathing, while the fire kept burning down.
48
With a sigh of relief Victoria sat down in her plush armchair by the window in her bedroom. It was late afternoon and the children were having their quiet time before their supper. Mary, the baby, was having a sleep in her cradle at the foot of Victoria's bed. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling a trifle guilty at the relief she felt at not having anyone speaking to her or touching her for the first time all day.
The door creaked. She opened her eyes, groaning inwardly. But no child appeared as the door opened a sliver. No Lydia or Catherine to tattle on one another (they'd had that sort of day), no Anne trying to escape the nonstop quarreling. Instead it was the cat.
Boisduval, big and gray and purring rustily, appeared from around the end of the bed. He stopped and stared at her with those striking green eyes, the tip of his tail twitching against the baby's cradle. Victoria looked back at him, smiling a bit. While he was mostly Anne's cat now, sometimes he would still come to find her for a comforting snuggle of an afternoon. At those moments Victoria would always realize that she'd missed him in between his visits. She'd not realized tom cats could be so affectionate.
"Come along, then, if you like," she said in a low voice so that she didn't disturb the baby. She held out her hands in invitation, indicating her lap.
Boisduval made a little chirping sound and leapt up. He was so heavy! She remembered what a tiny kitten he'd been, climbing up the front of her dresses with his little claws. Now he was so big there was no need for him to climb. He settled his back end on her lap, tail curled daintily about himself, and stretched his upper half so that he had one gray paw resting on her shoulder. Victoria put her arms about him and stroked his head. Then, glad there was no one to see, she dropped a light kiss on his head just between his ears.
The cat blinked his eyes, slowly and more slowly until he appeared to doze. He flexed his paw against her shoulder with those claws that were not so little anymore. Victoria was glad for her heavy dress. His purr vibrated through her body.
"Oh, you are a nice kitty, aren't you?" Victoria whispered. Boisduval, eyes closed, twitched an ear in agreement.
There went her small break from being touched. But she couldn't really bring herself to mind.