On the forth day, Reinette ordered the linens changed.
She could not explain her initial hesitation to do so. It was nearly of a day when the sheets would have been otherwise. But something in the action seemed a full admission that Reinette had accepted his absence.
That wherever Jack had gone to, he would not immediately be returning.
It caused a strange, gnawing sensation somewhere in her core. After all, until that moment Jack had not been the sort to simply disappear. Even after their arguments, even when he left? He always met her gaze squarely as he did so. There was no mystery there. And they always managed to speak plainly of the events afterward.
The linens changed and with nothing but herself to take to bed, it should have meant that Reinette slept. But instead she found her head merely more cleared for thought. The smallest, darkest of which she did not fully wish to consider.
She had told Jack plainly in London that she was certain if they became to memorable, he would leave. It spoke to things like reason and distance and security. It could be argued that they ignored that. But she had come to believe, privately, that perhaps she had been wrong. Or that at the very least they grew past such ideas.
She considered, again and again, the events o their day together.
Had Jack run?
Would he return?
She had been to the bench once. Only once and when he was not there she had not gone back.
Louis seemed to sense her mood, even if they did not speak of it. But he was kind, and solicitous and made an effort to spend time with her both publicly and privately. His latest mistress made a fine show of being offended, but for the moment Reinette could not be bothered to engage in childish games.
no subject
She could not explain her initial hesitation to do so. It was nearly of a day when the sheets would have been otherwise. But something in the action seemed a full admission that Reinette had accepted his absence.
That wherever Jack had gone to, he would not immediately be returning.
It caused a strange, gnawing sensation somewhere in her core. After all, until that moment Jack had not been the sort to simply disappear. Even after their arguments, even when he left? He always met her gaze squarely as he did so. There was no mystery there. And they always managed to speak plainly of the events afterward.
The linens changed and with nothing but herself to take to bed, it should have meant that Reinette slept. But instead she found her head merely more cleared for thought. The smallest, darkest of which she did not fully wish to consider.
She had told Jack plainly in London that she was certain if they became to memorable, he would leave. It spoke to things like reason and distance and security. It could be argued that they ignored that. But she had come to believe, privately, that perhaps she had been wrong. Or that at the very least they grew past such ideas.
She considered, again and again, the events o their day together.
Had Jack run?
Would he return?
She had been to the bench once. Only once and when he was not there she had not gone back.
Louis seemed to sense her mood, even if they did not speak of it. But he was kind, and solicitous and made an effort to spend time with her both publicly and privately. His latest mistress made a fine show of being offended, but for the moment Reinette could not be bothered to engage in childish games.
Her thoughts remained elsewhere.