To sleep, perchance to dream . . .
She hoped Gabriel would be in her dreams tonight.
Silently her lips formed the words, as if sending them through the ether to him:
I love you.
Later, much later, to her sleeping self came an image of a great castle, all turrets and oriels and crenelated battlements. And in the abrupt, yet curiously seamless way of the dreaming mind, she was all at once within the castle and in a long, dim corridor. Ahead of her—perhaps twenty paces away—was Gabriel.
In her dream, he looked at her and smiled, beckoning as if urging her to come to him. But then he turned away, opened a door, went inside, and was gone. She ran after him, but the door was shut; she rattled the doorknob but could not turn it, could not open the door. Frantically she looked around and for the first time realized that the walls of the corridor were filled with portraits—dozens, hundreds of portraits, large and small, all of distinguished-looking people clad elegantly in the costumes of previous centuries, surrounded by gleaming, gilded frames.
Livia knew they were long-dead Penhallows. To her unspeakable horror, as she stood there helpless and alone, the people in the portraits seemed to come alive, and they all were glaring at her.
A thousand voices whispered:
You will never be a real lady. Poor little Livia.
Where, she wondered desperately, was Gabriel?
You will never be a real lady. Poor little Livia.
She screamed out his name, but he did not come.
You will never be a real lady. Poor little Livia.
Over and over they whispered it, gaining in volume, until their voices gathered, rose, and the thundering noise of it brought her to her knees. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying, unsuccessfully, to block out these relentless voices; and finally, just when she was sure she would break into a million pieces, the corridor dissolved.
And the welcome silence of dreamless sleep claimed her.
In the morning came sunlight, blue cloudless skies, and only the lightest whisper of a breeze, cool and friendly. It was perfect traveling weather. As Livia went up and down the stairs, here and there, helping Grandmama with last-minute arrangements, it was easy to push away the eerie remnants of last night’s dream, especially when she stepped into the deserted hall just as Gabriel arrived, and he smiled at her, which made her feel as sunny as the sky itself.
“Hello,” he said.
Hello, she thought. What a delightful word it was. She’d never noticed that before. “Hello.”
“Are you well, Livia?”
“Very well. And yourself?”
“Likewise. More than likewise. What are you doing with that pillow?”
“What?”
“I asked why you’re holding that pillow.”
“Oh.” Livia had completely forgotten she had it in her hands. It was hard to think about pillows when Gabriel stood so close. My, he was handsome, and wasn’t it nice to see him smiling at her so warmly. It occurred to her that she could get used to this.
“Livia.”
“Yes?”
“The pillow.”
“Oh! Granny changed her mind about bringing it. I’m taking it up to her room.”
“I’ll join you. Let’s go this way.”
He took her into the backstairs, up two flights, and behind a stairwell, where it was wonderfully dark and private and cozy.
“This,” she said, teasing him, “isn’t the least bit proper.”
“Don’t be stuffy.”
“Ha!” She deepened her voice and said in an extremely pompous way, “Once given, my word is law.”
“Very funny, coming from someone who would rather run away and be a scullery maid than be in proximity to my awful self.”
“You know, I don’t find you so awful anymore.”
“I’m glad. Give me that pillow.”
Obediently she handed it to him and he tossed it over his shoulder in a very dashing way. “I want to kiss you.”
It was rather magical, she thought, how those five simple words, said in his lovely deep voice, could set her aflame, like a lamp tipped over and burning up everything in sight. She said:
“Well, kiss me then.”
“How imperious you are.” He smiled, came close, and set his hand gently under her chin. He bent and touched his lips to hers, lightly, sweetly, and it was as if her whole being rushed to meet him in his kiss. It was light, sweet, tender, caressing, demanding, and fiery hot all at once. How did he do that? There was absolutely no doubt about it. He was an excellent kisser. She could easily get used to this, too.
“You’re too far away,” she complained, and then gave a happy squeak when he caught her hard against him, deepening his kiss, and her head began to whirl in a very agreeable way.
He kissed her until she was breathless and her knees all rubbery, and she had to cling to him to keep herself upright. When finally he pulled away, she smiled up at him in the cozy dimness.