Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-Two

Constance opened her eyes, thinking of Mary, and her heart did an excited little skip. Early morning light illuminated Sense and Sensibility on her nightstand. She'd stayed up long into the night reading it. She couldn't wait to tell Mary about it, she'd probably already read it, but they could discuss it and—her stomach clenched as the rest of her sleepiness fell away. Mary was not her friend. Mary had left her to die.

She lay stiffly, willing her heart to return to its normal rhythm. How stupid was she that her was first thought was of her cousin? Was that more or less pathetic than her first thought being of Hugh? Both things made her feel like a child, easily duped. Not that Hugh had duped her, she just couldn't seem to get him out of her head even though he'd given her no indication that he cared for her, not truly.

At least he was handsome. What was Mary besides someone who had used her? Idiot. She pushed out of bed and slipped into a pelisse. Constance doubted anyone else was up, but the townhouse had a delightful little library. At least she might find a cozy fire and something to keep her mind busy. She could finish Sense and Sensibility which was a delightful story about sisters. She tried not to think about how she'd like to be Hannah's sister.

You have Gran and Simon. You don't need a best friend or romance, they're enough.

She made her way down the hall and down the steps, thinking. She'd been feeling so much better lately. Constance spent her days out in the Spring sun in the park with Simon and Hannah or back at the London home where mother seemed happy, almost like her old self, and Gran rested. It had done so much to restore Constance's soul. But then she'd see something that reminded her of her cousin and think to tell her, just to be reminded of her betrayal all over again, a fresh feeling of dread filling her heart. Many nights she woke up covered in sweat, her wrists burning. That she couldn't simply move on left her feeling weak and incompetent. It felt like she was still giving them power over her.

A fire was going in the little library and Gran was sitting next to it on a settee, reading happily.

"You're up early," Constance said, sitting down beside her.

"I'm always up this early. The maid's taken to starting the fire for me before she starts her day."

"You should sleep in, now that you finally can."

"Can't change a lifetime's worth of routine, I'm afraid. That's alright. I like the quiet, and things are so restful here I get to take a nap most days."

Constance smiled. Gran took her hand.

"Now tell me, why are you up?"

Constance loved the feel of Gran's hands. Spotted, silk, soft, and always cool. Even the callouses from years of hard labor were comforting.

"I woke up and my first thought was to tell Mary something and I just hate that I still think of her as a friend, that I think of her at all. But I do and then my heart races and I start sweating and it was just easier to get up."

Gran pulled Constance into her side. "I thought perhaps it was thoughts of the wolf Lord keeping you up."

Constance made a scoffing noise. "He's made it quite clear he is not interested in me."

"Yes, and men always have such a simple time expressing their emotions."

Constance sighed. Everything felt messy.

Gran started to sing, her soft voice filled with vibrato as she ran her hand over Constance's hair. It was a familiar hymn, one Constance's grandfather had loved. Constance's eyes grew heavy.