The old charm. It stole over me, like the sunlight behind him, warm and familiar, driving away all the shadows. The doubts that had shrouded me, the words that had drummed and drummed inside my skull as I lay on this bed. And I was too tired to fight. My limbs hurt. I tried to smile. “Is there? I hadn’t noticed.”
He walked around the corner of the bed toward me, and his face jumped out from shadow, along with his hand, which contained a pair of books. He held them out to me. “For you.”
“Thank you.”
There was no nightstand, at least for my use. He laid the books on the blanket beside me. “Aren’t you curious to see what they are?”
“I haven’t been able to read yet. The words keep swimming.”
“God, yes. Of course.” He sat down respectfully near my left knee. “A Tale of Two Cities and The Story of an African Farm.”
“I haven’t read the second one.”
“I think you’ll like it. It’s not very long, however.” He took my hand and laid his first two fingers on the inside of my wrist, feeling my pulse. “Hmm.”
“Better?”
“Yes, much.” He moved his fingers but didn’t release the hand. His palm was warm and dry. “It’s good to see you, Virginia.”
“Is it? I’m not exactly an object of seduction anymore.”
“You never were. Why would you say such a thing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.”
He leaned forward. His thumb pressed into my palm. “My God. You know everything about me! What’s the matter? What have I done?”
His face, I now saw, was lined with fatigue. His hair had taken on more gray, and his cheeks were thinner, and his tunic hung roomily on his frame. His eyes were unnaturally bright, as if he were existing on nerves alone, and he fixed upon me with desperation.
“Your brother,” I whispered. “Your brother came to see me.”
His shoulders fell. “Yes. So I thought.”
“He told me terrible things. But I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him—”
“Of course not. Of course you didn’t believe him. Because you have faith in me, dearest. You trust me. You must trust me.”
“I trust you.”
“It was a terrible shock when he turned up. A wonderful shock and a terrible one.” His hand gripped mine like a manacle. “I won’t say more. I don’t want to tire you. I’ll be off in a moment. But I swear, Virginia—”
“You don’t need to swear anything. I could see how bitter he was, how he resented you. How he’s resented you all his life. I understood right away.”
“But you doubted, just a little.”
“Not really. I just—I needed to see you, that’s all. To hear the truth from you.”
“That I love you. That I cannot imagine my life without you. Don’t believe anything else, not for an instant. Do you hear me? Do you understand me?”
He spoke, as I did, in a low, husky voice—conscious of the dozen occupied beds on either side of us, the bored ears straining to catch our conversation. A nurse strode by, carrying a tray, and her gaze slid away as I glanced at her.
“Yes,” I said.
Simon went on, focusing his words to a tone of such deep privacy that they reminded me, for an instant, of his brother’s voice in the café. His other hand touched my cheek.
“You are the only true thing in my life, Virginia. The only thing left intact. The only thing that matters anymore. Since the day you drove your damned ambulance through the mud of that courtyard, I have thought of nothing but you. Have dreamt of nothing but you. Your skin and your lips, your beautiful eyes. The scent of you. The weight of you, lying in my arms, sleeping in my bed. I have been obsessed with you. Scheming for the next meeting, and the next, scarcely existing in the meantime. When I got word about the accident, I nearly went mad. You can’t imagine—but that’s enough. Look at you, you’re exhausted.”
“No! Don’t stop. Don’t go.” I closed my eyes. “I am much better. Much better now.”
“Good. You must get better as quickly as possible, do you hear me? I have laid such plans for us, but they all depend on a Virginia who’s herself again, all put back together and full of her usual ardor and determination, behind her wonderfully prim fa?ade.”
“Plans?” My eyes cracked open again. “What kind of plans?”
“Never worry. I have it all worked out. I’ve made arrangements for you at a private hospital near London, as soon as you can be safely moved—”
“What?”
“I’m not going to be taking any more chances with you, phantom girl. I know one of the doctors there. You’ll be in excellent hands, safe and sound. The war will be over in a matter of months. Did you know that? The Germans are back on their heels. They can’t last much longer, not while you Americans flood in endlessly. And then there will be nothing left to stand in our way. This entire nightmare will be over at last. We shall be man and wife by springtime.”
“Man and wife!”
“Yes. I won’t take your objections any longer. I have discovered, in the past month, an absolutely invincible need to marry you. What do you say?”
My lips moved, but nothing came out. I must have looked astonished, or frightened, because Simon leaned forward and spoke in his doctor’s voice, terribly soothing.
“We must be married, dearest. This scare you’ve put into me, it’s brought me to my senses. For practical reasons, if nothing else. Just think if anything should happen to one of us. If you should have a child.”
I tried to remember all my earlier objections. I tried to conjure the sensation of dread, the picture of my mother, but the image was too blurred, a relic of a distant childhood, and anyway Simon’s face was too near. His words were too comforting. I sat there on my bed, seeking the well of my resistance, and I couldn’t find it. As his hand massaged the bones of my fingers, I lost the will even to search.
“Virginia, please. Whatever your fears, I promise you I’ll extinguish them. I shall never intrude on that marvelous independence of yours. I shall guard you and serve you and strive for your happiness every moment of my life. But I want you as my wife. I need you to marry me. Before God and the law.”
“But what about Lydia? Your brother?”
“Everything will be settled soon, I promise. The way will be clear. I’ll sort it all out; you’re not to worry about a thing. Just promise me you’ll be mine. No. No, that’s not it. It’s the other way around. You must promise me, my dear phantom girl, you’ll do me the very great honor of allowing me to become yours. To show you what marriage can be, with the right person.” He smiled. “With me.”
Sometimes, in quiet moments, as I lie in my bed and count the strokes until midnight, I wonder how different a course my life would have taken if I had withdrawn my hand in that moment and said no. If I had refused him then, if I had remained firm in my refusal ever to marry. My refusal to take on the trappings of ordinary domestic life, like the other girls. Like my mother did, until she was murdered.