voice shook. “What happened?”
Raclin lifted a hand to stroke her hair. “Are you all right?” he asked calmly.
“Yes. No. What happened?
“Oh, you had a little scare,” he said. “You thought you were falling. But you were perfectly safe. I had you in my arms the whole time.”
“But it was real. We were kissing, and then I was falling, I could feel it. I could see the—I thought I was going to die. What did you do?”
He pulled her tightly against him. Nora rubbed her cheek against the black cloth of his dinner jacket. This close, he seemed to blot out everything else, even the memory of fear. “Do you think I would let anything happen to you?” he asked. “Don’t you know how precious you are to me?”
Nora looked at him and read nothing but loving sympathy in his eyes. “No, I know you’ll always take care of me,” she said slowly. “I must have had a little too much to drink tonight. I was dizzy. I lost my balance.”
“It’s a long way down. You got a little panicky.”
“I panicked for a moment. We’re so high.”
“Poor darling.” He took hold of her chin and gave it a tweak. “Feeling better? You’re not afraid to stay out here and kiss me again?”
“Try me,” she said, closing her eyes.
Their lips met. As they kissed, again Nora felt herself dropping. She was still in Raclin’s arms, and yet there was nothing to hold on to. She tumbled through the air, wind whistling in her ears, whipping her dress. One of her pumps came loose and was gone.
She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the ground that was coming closer, faster, about to slam her body into jelly.
Eyes shut, Nora could feel Raclin’s lips on her lips, his tongue probing her mouth. She moaned, pressing herself against him. If she could just hold on to him, if she could somehow will herself into believing that she was safe in his embrace, she might be able to pull herself up out of this sickening dive.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Just kiss me. There’s nothing to fear.”
Obediently, she clung to him, trying to ignore the vertigo. It was as though she had become two different people, with two different fates. She knew that she was crashing toward earth. She could feel the suck of gravity in her bones. Any instant now, it would all be over. But at the same time she was kissing Raclin.
“Please, hold me,” she whispered. “Please.”
“You have to trust me,” he said. “All you have to do is give yourself to me. That’s all. That’s all I want. Just relax. Don’t keep anything back. Open up, give it all to me.”
There were two Noras, one who was about to die, and one who would live and be happy, blissfully happy, because she had surrendered all pain and terror to someone who was stronger than she was. She wanted frantically to be the second woman.
“Yes,” she said. Deep inside her, something that had been tight suddenly loosened, and then, with a sigh, it was gone.
The world steadied. She could feel the solid metal of the dirigible deck beneath the soles of her shoes— both shoes, including the one that had blown off her foot in midair.
“Good, that’s it. Come on, give it all to me.”
“Yes, please, take it. All of it.” Nora felt light and fresh, as though she had just been reborn.
“Lovely. That’s perfect. See how easy that was, darling?”
“Yes, darling, it’s easy. It’s—” Nora searched for the right words. “It’s good.”
“Of course. You’re going to be very happy. No more worries.”
“Darling,” she said. “All yours.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s my brave girl. You did just fine. You were a little jumpy at first, but you did just fine.”
“You took care of me.”
“Yes, yes,” Raclin said, smiling down at her. “All right, that’s over with. What next? Shall we get married now? Will you like that?”
Nora nodded. It was almost funny that he would have to ask her. Of course she wanted to marry him. It was all she wanted. “Oh, yes, darling.”
“Ilissa will throw us a big wedding. She’ll outdo herself. It will be a bother, but I expect you’ll like it. You’ll have a new dress to wear. Of course you have a new dress every day as it is, but this will be special.”
“Pretty?” Nora knew she needed more words to say what she meant, but she was too tired to think of them, and Raclin understood, as he always did.
“Yes, the dress will be pretty, you’ll be very pretty. No worries about that. Ilissa will make sure of it.” He laughed. “She’d better.”
“So happy,” Nora said.
“That’s a good girl.” Raclin studied her face for an instant, then kissed her, carelessly. “All right, enough for now. What do you say we leave this inflatable rattrap and go see the city? It’s a beautiful night. June, I’d say. A good time to be in Paris. We could take a cab over to Montmartre and find a cafe and drink red wine all night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Paris?” Nora looked over Raclin’s shoulder and saw a familiar-looking triangular silhouette picked out in lights against the night sky. She looked down and saw more lights: the S curve of a river flowing through the city, the glowing lines of the boulevards. But she couldn’t recall the name of the river or the tower. “I came here once,” she said with an effort. “Paris.”
“Did you, my dear?” asked Raclin. “You’ll have to tell me all about it, once we’re at the cafe. Well, you won’t be able to tell me very much, I’m afraid, but do the best you can.”
The wedding plans were in Ilissa’s hands, for which Nora was hugely grateful. Ilissa was very scrupulous about consulting her on various points, and Nora did her best to help, but sometimes it was all she could do just to understand what Ilissa was saying. “Darling, would you prefer pink or white lilies in the silver vases?” Ilissa might ask, and Nora would be a million miles away, thinking about nothing but how blissfully happy she was. Her love for Raclin seemed to stretch on and on, and she could only contemplate it with awe, the way you might gaze at distant mountains. “Pink,” she said finally, taking a stab. Ilissa would laugh and give her a kiss and tell her what a great help she was, thank goodness that Nora was so decisive.
Then there was the wedding dress to be fitted, a blizzard of white satin that fell to the floor in gleaming drifts. But then, Nora wore long dresses all the time now, and so did the other women. The men wore long coats and breeches or sometimes tunics and tights. They carried elegant swords with filigree handles almost as lacy as their collars. People arrived at Ilissa’s parties in carved and gilded coaches drawn by matched teams of horses, and they danced in the warm, wavering light of hundreds of candles. One day Nora realized that the telephone was gone from her room. She hadn’t noticed when it disappeared, and now she couldn’t even find the jack in the wall.
She tried to ask Ilissa about the change. “Everything looks so—” she started to say, and then frowned. It was frustrating, because she knew that precisely the right word existed for what she was trying to say.
“Yes, darling?” Ilissa said. They were riding along a bridle path—sidesaddle, because of their skirts—after a day spent hunting in the forest.
“Everything looks different,” Nora said. “Old.” That wasn’t the right word, but it would have to do.
Ilissa understood what she meant. “Yes, I suppose this all may seem a bit archaic to you.” She smiled, as though she knew it was exactly that word that Nora had been searching for. “You gave me so many good ideas! But I know you have other things to think about now. And this is a nice change from having everything so modern, don’t you think? I do love the old ways. Like the hunt today. Wasn’t it a delight? It makes one feel so alive.”
There were dark bloodstains on the green brocade hem of Ilissa’s skirt, but even while jamming a spear through the entrails of the wounded stag, she had looked exquisite.
