And if you cannot forgive me, tell the Germans. If you cannot forgive me, I may as well let them have their revenge.
Still, your loving
Will
I didn’t cry. My hands shook, so I put down the letter and sank them into the bed. My vision started to blur, so I closed my eyes and drew a breath. I couldn’t let myself feel what I felt. The madness was still too close. I put it away. I made myself think.
So. He thought I did not know that the Stone had rejected him and would do nothing without me. He thought he could fool me with another letter, even after I’d seen how little, how much less than nothing his letters meant. I bit down on my lip and tasted blood, but my vision cleared.
He told you where he would be. He is trusting you with his life.
It was my mother’s voice, but it was the very last observation I would have expected her to make.
Yes, I reasoned. But only because he must. If I do not come, the Stone will not cure him. He knows this is his only chance, whatever the risks.
Do you think you will find one better? she asked. I never did.
I pressed my hands to my ears.
“I’m not you,” I said aloud.
I had to focus. I had to think. I shook my mother from my head.
I wasn’t going anywhere with Will, of course I wasn’t. But he had the Stone. I had to go to him, at least long enough to take it. And then … and then …
And then you’ll believe him. There was scorn in her voice, but insistence as well. Why not? Once you have the Stone, he will be faithful. He would not dare be otherwise.
What good is that? I don’t want forced fidelity.
My darling. Cold laughter. There is no other kind.
I slapped myself. It stopped her laughter, for the moment, but still her words echoed in my head.
You never forgave, I thought. You never forgave any of them even a part of what Will has done.
And suddenly you wish to emulate me?
“I wish to make this decision without you in my head!” I said, and screamed to silence her.
The scream brought me to myself. That, and my father’s voice crying out from the parlor. The doorknob rattled, and I remembered that I had locked it.
“Thea, may I come in?”
His desperate tone belied his calm words.
I stood. I went to the door and hesitated, my hand on the knob. I said nothing.
“Thea, please let me in,” said my father. “I can help you.”
I almost believed it. After all, he was willing to acknowledge me. I leaned my head on the door and thought for a moment of what it would be to become Theosebeia Vellacott, the fellow’s daughter. Not an alchemist. Not an illegitimate, fatherless girl. Perhaps my father would introduce me to the wives and daughters of the other Oxford scholars. Perhaps they, in turn, would introduce me to their sons and brothers. And then …
But there my mind went blank. I could picture nothing further than a dull tea with a pale, faceless young man, and the humiliating knowledge that my only task in life now was to conceal my true self long enough to trick him into marrying me.
And even that was a fantasy. My father might truly wish to provide me with everything in his power, but what was that, really? He couldn’t hide me from Graf Ludwig, who would surely bring me back if his hunt for Will failed. Or from the other hopeful alchemists who would eventually hear what I had done. All it would take was another rich lord without scruples to decide he’d like me to do it again, and I would be locked back in another bedroom, madness beckoning.
And all that, only if I could force myself not to go after the Stone. Which, of course, I could not.
“I’d like to help,” he said in a quieter voice.
And this time, somehow, I believed him.
He wanted to help me. I considered this for a moment and was surprised to find a small seed of warmth trying to take root amid the thorny fears and furies.
I opened the door. His face betrayed alarm at the sight of me.
“Are you well?” he asked anxiously. “You look—Thea, you are not in danger of becoming … ill … again, are you?”
“I do not think so,” I said without confidence.
“Is there something you need?” asked my father. “Have you eaten? Or, perhaps tea?”
I could face the thought of neither, and shook my head.
“You said…” I stared down at the floor. It took me longer than it should have to force out the words. “You said you would like to help.”
“Yes.” My father reached out his hand as if to pat my shoulder, but lowered it before it reached me. A sad laugh escaped him like a sigh. “I would. But I’m not sure how to do it. Perhaps you could tell me?”
I nodded. “Come in.”
I sat on the edge of my bed. My father hovered hesitantly for a moment before sitting beside me. I gathered my thoughts. It took long enough that my father felt compelled to speak.
“I can’t help but think I’ve made a terrible mess of things, Thea.” My father knit his long, pale fingers together in his lap and stared at them. “I know you are tired of hearing me make excuses for myself. But I can’t stop thinking of what I did.”
I looked at him sharply. My mind was so focused on my present dilemma that my first thought was some new betrayal. Had he intercepted Will’s letter perhaps, or told Valentin where Will wanted to meet me?
“If I hadn’t turned on Dominic and driven you away, none of this would have happened,” he went on. “Neither of you would have been dragged into Will’s troubles. I hate to think of
