“What else would you like me to say?” Charlotte asked, raising her eyebrows. “It doesn’t seem the time for light conversation, and I’m not going to discuss the case with you. We will only end up quarreling again. If you don’t know what I think of your treatment of Thomas, then I’ll tell you.” It was a threat; it was implicit in every angle of her body and line of her face.
Emily’s heart sank. Could Charlotte not understand how terrified she was for Jack, not only for his life—which must be obvious to anyone—but that he would fail the challenge of making some kind of success of this conference and his career would be over before it began? They had asked too much of him far too soon. It was grossly unfair. Pitt was not the only one faced with failure, and no one was threatening his life. She needed Charlotte’s help and companionship, her support, not her anger. But if it had to be begged for, it was of no use. Suddenly she felt more in sympathy with Kezia Moynihan than she would have thought possible.
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly. This was not the apology she had intended. “You have already made it quite plain in your manner.” Nothing was going the way she had planned.
They stood in stiff silence facing each other, neither sure what to say next, temper and pride dictating one thing, deeper emotion another.
Fifteen feet away, on the farther side of a dense, tangled vine with yellow trumpet flowers, one of the outside doors of the conservatory opened. Emily turned instantly, but she could not see anyone through the foliage, although their footsteps were plain.
“You’re being unreasonable!” Fergal Moynihan’s voice came heatedly.
The door closed with a sharp snap.
“Because I won’t agree with you?” Iona’s voice retorted, equally hard and angry.
“Because you won’t be realistic,” he answered, lowering his tone a little. “We both have to make accommodations.”
“What ‘accommodations,’ as you put it, are you making?” she demanded. “You won’t listen to me about the core and the soul of it. You just say they are mysteries, folklore. You laugh at the most sacred things of all.”
“I don’t laugh at them,” he protested.
“Yes, you do! You mock them. You pay lip service, because you don’t want to make me angry, but in your heart you don’t believe—”
Emily and Charlotte glanced at each other, eyes wide.
“Now you’re accusing me not for what I say or do but for what you imagine I believe?” Fergal was growing angry again. “It’s impossible to please you! You are just looking for a quarrel. Why can’t you be honest—”
“I am honest! It’s you who’s lying, not only to me but to yourself ….” Iona’s voice retaliated.
“I am not lying!” he shouted. “I’m telling you the truth! That’s the problem. You don’t want truth because it doesn’t fit with your myths and fairy stories and the superstitions you let govern your life—”
“You don’t understand faith!” she shouted back. “All you know is rules and how to condemn people. I should have known better ….” There was a sound of quick clattering footsteps and the door opening.
“Iona!” Fergal called out.
Silence.
“What?”
His footsteps followed hers to the door.
“I love you.”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
“You know I do. I adore you.”
There was a long silence, again broken only by sighs and the rustle of fabric, and then eventually two lots of footsteps, and the outside door closing.
Emily looked at Charlotte.
“Not so smooth a path,” Charlotte said very quietly. “Kissing isn’t a resolution to an argument, not a real one.”
“Kissing isn’t an answer at all,” Emily agreed. “It’s something you do if you want to, not to resolve a problem. In a way it only clouds the issue. It can be very nice to kiss someone, but it can stop you thinking clearly. When you’ve finished and pull apart, what is left?”
“In their case, I don’t think they know yet.” Charlotte shook her head. “And it will be very sad if they pay too much for their chance together and then discover it isn’t what they really want and it won’t work. Then they’ll have nothing.”
“I don’t think they want to hear that,” Emily pointed out.
Charlotte smiled for the first time. “I’m sure they don’t. I wonder how Kezia will feel? I hope she can find it in herself not to be too satisfied.”
Emily was surprised. “Why? Do you like him? I thought you didn’t much.”
“I don’t. I think he’s cold and pompous. But I like her. And whatever he is, he’s the only brother she has, the only family. She’ll hurt herself horribly if she doesn’t offer him some gentleness, whatever he does with it”
“Charlotte …”
“What?”
Now it was not so hard. There would never be a better time. “I’m sorry I flew at Thomas yesterday. I know it was unfair. I’m terrified for Jack.” She might as well say it all now. “Not only in case they try again to kill him, but
