Perception ✔

19 Coffee & Pearls

I wish I could say Gareth's disappearance troubled or inconvenienced us, but in truth, it hadn't. Not at all. After one month passed, more than enough time for any sensible constable to find his body and perhaps bring up charges, we fell into a proper routine.

Edmond and my trips to the cellar were far too frequent at first, I knew, but slowed with the nearing of the royal ball—there was just so much preparation involved. Perhaps he was tired, I'd told myself.

Today, as the girls went off to pick berries with the cook, was the first—perhaps only time—he ravished me in the light of day.

I loved it. And it was awful because I loved it. The more I gave into my urges, the more twisted my imagination became. I barely left the house when the cook was afoot. I'd thought her older but was taken aback to find she was three years my junior. Her heavy weight added some maturity to her face.

She was very knowledgeable about Edmond, however. So today when Edmond lay on the mattress, exhausted from the work I'd put his body through, I dressed and made my way into the kitchen. My plan was to give him the good coffee and not the watered down tea to which he was accustomed.

It was rare that he slept for long, and he picked his head up when I returned.

After putting the tray on yet another small table we'd long since brought down for the lamp, he paused often to glance at me. Once I looked away, he threw the sheets back and began to dress.

I longed for us to be closer. For us to share things with one another. That was why I'd overcome my inhibitions and started dressing in his plain sight, albeit via lamplight, something I hadn't done even with my late husband. Today, too, I felt comfortable being bare around him as I put my dress back on.

For now, I left my hair down to hang at my shoulders when we were together. Once he folded the sheets neatly, I sat at his side and offered the coffee.

He studied the dark contents of the cup then took a sip. The gag was instant.

"This is for guests!" he protested. Hand extended, he searched around. But it wasn't as if he could put the coffee back.

Finally, I held the cup and promised him, "I won't make it again, but please enjoy it."

He stared into my eyes, defiant. I was being reckless. Keeping coffee was already difficult, and we hadn't had all that much due to the expense.

But I begged him, not verbally, but with my worried expression to please let me pretend for a moment. Down here, right now, just for a few minutes, we could pretend to be normal. Not strange bedfellows hiding in the night.

Letting out a sigh through his nose, he drank the coffee but didn't reach for the biscuits. Those, he tried to give me. When I refused to take it, he put one to my lips.

I smiled in spite of myself.

We ate in companionable silence but that feeling of dread and impending loss hadn't dulled in the last month. In fact, it had snowballed.

Some assurances would wipe them away, but I couldn't bring myself to ask Edmond about something that had crossed my mind again and again.

Gareth was dead. Rather conveniently.

Each time I formulated a way to ask about it, I lost my nerve. I didn't want to offend him. I didn't want to jeopardize what we'd become.

My hand on his thigh as he drank, I debated whether or not to be direct about it.

"Edmond?"

He tilted his head back and emptied the last of the cup. I loved seeing it. Everything in me dissolved into calm.