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He loathed old age almost as much: that long, vile decline into helplessness halted only by the final breath, falling like a guillotine blade. And yet his reflection in the mirror made it increasingly difficult to tell himself that he was still a young man. He remained a fit man, a handsome man, but the skin beneath his jaw sagged. Deep grooves cut into the sides of his mouth. Even his eyelids drooped, heavy from the passage of time. Fear hooked through him, cold and sharp. Every man was afraid of something. For him, death had long loomed as the ultimate terror. A darkness with fangs.
“But Papa, why should I talk when I’ve nothing important to say?”
Not to mention, unless I bury my husband or divorce him, I can play only once.
“Usually one feels aimless because one isn’t sure yet what one wants—until one does, a proper strategy can’t be formulated.” Charlotte studied Livia a moment. “But in your case, it’s possible you know exactly what you want, but you’re afraid to want it, let alone pursue it.”
“Remember, Charlotte, Papa doesn’t like women. He’d feel a lot more hesitation breaking his word to a man—but you aren’t a man.”
“By your standards it isn’t rational, I know. But you can’t expect to be treated rationally when you are a woman, Charlotte. I can’t explain why—that’s just how it is. And you must learn to accept it.” Charlotte was quiet. Livia thought that perhaps for once, she’d put some sense into her little sister’s head. But as they walked back into the house, Charlotte turned to her and said, “I will try to understand why. But I will not learn to accept it. Never.”
Livia wouldn’t say she’d never met any gentlemen who appealed to her. But those of lofty enough qualities to interest her never seemed to be interested in her. And those who did bother to pay attention to her failed to spark the least reciprocal warmth on her part.
Livia who mistrusted humanity yet feared being alone.
He made her human—or as human as she was capable of being. And being human was possibly her least favorite aspect of life.
“You’re right, Mrs. Watson, I mustn’t worry so much. But at the moment I don’t know how to stop.”
“I was always afraid this day would come. That Bancroft would discover you for your mind.” “When did you discover me for my mind, Ash?” she asked impulsively. He already had one hand on the door. Looking back at her, he said, “From the beginning, Holmes. The very beginning.”
