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

Jane liked the liveliness of the city, but preferred Brighton. It would be more manageable in size, and the sea tended to be a freshening influence. It wasn’t simply lack of opportunity to move that had her staying in Brighton. But he supposed it was home—where she’d grown up. At least in the orphanage. He didn’t know where she’d lived when her father had still been alive.

There was so much he didn’t know about her, so much he hadn’t thought to ask. Often, questions cropped up about her that he didn’t have an answer to.

Coming to Octavia’s door, he knocked and was soon let in and told she was in the morning room, where he found her sitting with a tea service.

“Julius,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming to town.”

Without waiting to be invited, he took a seat on the opposing sofa. “I have business to attend to.”

“You do tend to come around this time of year.”

“Were you expecting me?”

“Yes.” Was he that predictable?

“How did your portrait turn out? I trust it’s finished, or are you two still stabbing away at it?”

“It’s finished, and she did a very good job.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

And funnily, Julius couldn’t bear to look at it. It was so strongly attached to her that it was all he saw when he looked upon it. Her smile, the way she moved—her milky, smooth skin. “She’s gone back to Brighton.”

“Of course. You sound a little disappointed. Do you miss her company?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. There was much he didn’t admit to his sister, and it really wasn’t any of her business, but equally, it felt too substantial to be kept secret. “We were lovers—for a time.”

“Oh,” Octavia said with surprise. Perhaps Octavia had been utterly fooled by Jane’s appearance as he had been, and assumed Jane would never do such a thing. Or was it simply him who’d made such judgements, assuming she was a sad, lost creature, when in reality, she embraced life more than most people he’d ever met. “I take it that’s finished now?”

“The painting was finished, and she left.”

“Just like that?”

Julius nodded. Maybe that was why this all felt so raw. It had just ended, just as it was starting, really. It had been so sweet and intense, and then it had ended. There had been no dwindling of the relationship ensuring the parting turned out to be a bit of a relief. Instead, it had been an abrupt goodbye with best wishes.

At times over the last month, he’d been incredibly angry with her, and other times, he’d rationalized it to the point where he completely agreed with the parting. It wasn’t as if he disagreed—it was just that he felt... disappointed. Something in him wanted more.

“I’ll be honest and admit that I have been left a little unbalanced by it,” he said, looking out the window, primarily because he didn’t want his sister’s pity or derision, or whatever she’d come at him with.

“Well, I think you needed to be a bit unbalanced. You were much too comfortable living like a hermit.”

“I was not a hermit,” he said dismissively.

“Someone who prefers their own company and stays away from society at large. I think you are.”

“Nonsense,” he said, feeling himself get irritated. But Jane had brought out something in him—a longing. On some level, he’d always known it was there—or rather the potential of it. “I just need to...” Truthfully, he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He needed something.

“Why didn’t you ask her to stay?” Octavia asked.

“I did. She was eager to get back to her life in Brighton.”

“Yes, I could imagine.”

Really, was it that easy to imagine leaving him behind as a preferable choice? Did the sweetness they’d found mean so little? Because he’d been prepared to make room for her in his life.

“She’s an independent girl,” Octavia said. “Taking a man on is a substantial undertaking.”

“Is it?”

“What if she became with child? What if she is with child?” she asked with more seriousness. “Are you prepared to take care of it?”

“Of course. But it’s unlikely. Illness in her youth has left her barren.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“In fact, she would be inordinately pleased if that happened. Even so, she wasn't that interested in keeping me.” It was unusual he was this honest with Octavia, and surprised that she didn’t jump at the chance to savage him. Perhaps that would be cruel—not that cruelty was entirely beyond Octavia if the mood struck her—particularly when it came to him. It made him wonder why they had such a contentious relationship. They both seemed aware of it, and unable to stop it.

“I think it’s simply that taking you on would mean giving up everything she’s worked hard for.”

“I wouldn’t ask her to stop painting.”

“I was referring more to her broader life—her independence.”

In his gut, he knew this, but it still felt like rejection. “Do you think it would make a difference if I were able to marry her?”

Octavia looked torn. “Yes, you should divorce at the earliest opportunity. But honestly, I don’t know. She’s not the kind of woman who’s drawn by your estate or your fortune. She knows what she wants and it’s not to be cosseted away in some country house. It would have been better if you’d set your sights on a simpler woman. You have always had a knack for setting your sights on the most inappropriate women.”

“My marriage served every purpose set up for it.”

“From your perspective. Clearly Cressida felt differently, and left. And from what the gossips say, she’s very happy. I dread to think in what manner you suggested continuing to Jane Brightly. Please don’t tell me you used the word ‘alignment’.”

“No, of course