A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (guided reading books TXT) 📗

“Julius, please find someone to love. You have so much to give.”

“As you say, you wouldn’t want to miss the train.” She hadn’t said that at all, but now was not the time to argue an irrelevant point.

It felt as if he was angry and disappointed with her, and maybe he was. But there had never been anything more than this on offer. Something in her urged her to reiterate that he needed to keep trying, but with someone who was more available. He was too precious to hide himself away from the entire world.  But she also knew it wasn’t something he wished to hear right then, so she said goodbye and walked out of the house to join Mr. Fuller, who assisted her into the carriage. Julius didn’t come out and they set off without any further ado. It felt rushed, but maybe this was how it needed to be. What else was there to say?

It wasn’t as if they’d had a longstanding affair of the heart. It had been brief and light. Every part of it had been delightful, except perhaps this parting. But then Julius was used to directing and controlling, and she wasn’t someone he could do either with, nor could she stay to explore any potential between them, even if there could be something more meaningful there if given the time. She had her life to get back to. There had never been any consideration of something else.

Quickly, the house was moving farther and farther away. This was a period she would look back fondly on, and she hoped it would be the same for him. The parting would fade in his memory and what would be left would be the joy and excitement of embracing life again. She wanted that for him, because his life could be so much richer if he only allowed himself to receive it. Hopefully, he would now.

And she needed to turn her thoughts to her future now.

Chapter 26

THE HOUSE WAS QUIET with her gone. In some sense, this was good because they could get back to normal now. The portrait was done, and things needed to return to how they should be.

He’d lost himself there for a while. It had been sweet, and far out of his realm of normality. In most respects, it had been wonderful, but it couldn’t continue, could it? He’d lost himself for a moment longer to suggest she should stay, but clearly, it had been brash. She’d seen reason.

In reality, they were far apart in both status and intention. It was the sweetness between them that had made him wish for more. However, she’d been keen to return to her life.

His offer would be a generous one. Live here, with him, a generous allowance. But she hadn’t entertained the notion for more than two seconds. She’d never had any intention other than returning to her life in Brighton. Obviously, he understood.

On the other hand, could what they’d had been so easy to put aside? Had it not meant more? Or maybe she’d seen it as a short-lived thing that had met its intended end. Then why had it existed at all? It felt a little cruel, as if showing him the most wonderful things that weren’t for him.

Saying that, he knew what she expected—that he would get a lover. Better would be to get a new wife. Octavia felt the same way.

What he’d had with Jane had been very different from what he’d had with his wife. Utterly different. They couldn’t be further apart. Both his siblings were happily married, while his had never achieved any kind of intimacy.

The truth was that he couldn’t think of a single person who he could reach the same level of understanding and comfort with as he’d had with Jane. It just didn’t seem possible. It was a wonder it had happened at all. It wasn’t something he could explain.

He hadn’t been himself. That was how it was explained. With encouragement from her, he’d completely lost himself. Impassioned. That wasn’t him at all, but for a moment, he had been. For a time, she’d mattered to him more than anything, but it had been a fleeting thing, a mere spark, and then it extinguished.

Now it was time to get back to where he’d been. Sadly, it now seemed bleak in comparison. With Jane, everything had felt so alive, that the possibilities were endless. Something beyond identity and station. It had had a life of its own—for a moment.

Twisting his whiskey glass on the desk, the dark liquid glittered as it caught the light. It couldn’t be said he enjoyed whiskey to the degree his brother did. Light hadn’t been something he’d particularly paid attention to before meeting Jane. It painted the world itself. Created both mood and texture.

It was her voice he heard in his head, almost as if she was there in the room talking to him. But she was gone. Pulling out his watch, he checked the time and wondered if she was back in Brighton by now.

A noise drew his attention and he saw a shadow at the door. A short one.

“Come in, Atticus,” he called and the boy half appeared behind the door. Why was the boy so shy with him? What cause had he given to make him so reticent? At no point had he been cruel to him, yet their relationship was distant. Initially he’d felt the boy had everything he needed, but Jane had been adamant he needed more. Atticus wanted, needed, more. Jane had tried to explain how important this relationship was to the boy. “What have you been doing?”

“Drawing.”

“Has Miss Brightly inspired you?” A strange notion, because before her arrival, Julius had seen art as completely irrelevant. It was so important to Jane she’d built