Spellbound

by Ophelia Silk

  And she wanted to scream at him—hadn’t he done enough, hadn’t he already made her agree to this? But, of course, the proper way to do things was the proper way to do things. There was a script that had to be followed.

  Wasn’t that script what she wanted? Wasn’t it supposed to comfort her?

  Maybe she would find more comfort if she followed it as she was supposed to. Maybe it would take weeks, but she’d get there eventually. Starting with tonight, she would be the woman everyone expected her to be.

  And she would learn to find happiness in it. She would have to. She didn’t have any other choice.

  “I will,” she said. Her voice trembled, just a little.

  And she smiled, wan and utterly meaningless.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A Joyless Celebration

  JANE DANCED.

  It was her favorite dance, where women would whirl from waiting arms to waiting arms, linking hands in between. It always made her feel lighthearted, a little like she was flying. Her palms would always tingle when they met the other women’s.

  That’s how it was before, anyway.

  She met the laughing eyes of another woman as they twirled between partners. They were a vibrant green, speckled with brown. Beautiful eyes, framed by dark red lashes. Those eyes would have made her heart flutter, before. She would have tucked the feeling away in some secret, joyful place, never to be examined.

  But, now? Now she couldn’t take any joy from them. They weren’t the eyes she wanted.

  She felt nothing.

  She allowed herself to be scooped into the next man’s laughing arms, picked up and spun around. Hands stayed firm but polite on her waist. “I hope William doesn’t come for me after this,” the man joked. Jane gave a polite laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “I’ll be sure to show him extra attention at the next couple’s dance,” she said. Her voice was the same voice she always had, charming and polite. Only the way she felt when she spoke the words was different.

  The man laughed and twirled her, allowing her to spin out of his arms. Her movements were mechanical, precise. She twirled and laughed and joked, and none of that touched the hollow spot deep in her heart.

  Maybe it never would.

  But she could live like this. She would live like this. A future with Adelaide was no longer an option, and that meant that she would have to make a future here.

  The dance ended, and a pair of arms descended upon her from behind. As always, she had to fight the instinct to wrench free of them. “You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type.”

  If Jane had any emotion left in her chest, she would have laughed—possibly until she cried. “It’s always your arms that I’ll return to,” she said, voice sweet as honey.

  He twirled her, cupping her chin in his hand. “I expect nothing less.” He stroked her cheek, stopping just shy of pulling her in for a kiss. Some things were still off limits in public, thankfully. But already, he was more demonstrative than before, and how could she push it away? She couldn’t, not with his ring glittering on her finger, her father’s proud eyes and her mother’s wistful smile.

  “Start up a couple’s dance,” someone shouted.

  “Looks like Jane and William need it,” another joked to good-natured laughter.

  Jane ducked her head, as if to hide a pleased smile. She even managed to make her lips curl up, but there was no true warmth in her expression. She was sure that if anyone bothered to really look into her eyes, they would see only dull emptiness.

  She leaned into William and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think of Adelaide, didn’t want the ache that came with remembering her. But she did anyway. She imagined those arms, longer and lither than William’s. Her chest, fuller and more fluid. Her skin, softer and warmer.

  Jane wondered if she’d ever stop wanting her. Perhaps she could, once every last emotion in her heart was dead. At this rate, it would probably be a relief.

  “My dear.” William’s voice was soft at her temple. “Are you happy?”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her. He didn’t want to hear the answer, she knew—at least, not the true one. He wanted the polite answer and nothing more. Fuel for his ego, so distant from her that it hardly had anything to do with her at all. But still, she looked up at him and smiled. “I’m engaged to marry the most handsome man in town,” she said. “How can I be anything but happy?”

  “You two are disgustingly in love,” the male half of a nearby couple said. His tone said he was joking, but his eyes were flat and cold.

  “Really, it’s very insufferable of you.” There was a sparkle in the woman’s eyes that might have been good cheer. Or perhaps too much wine. “You’ll make the rest of us look bad.”

  “They’re already so handsome, they make us look bad without even trying,” another woman joked, and the party broke up into laughter.

  Jane played her part well, a marionette on strings. “You flatter me too much,” she said, holding her breath enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. “I just got very lucky, that’s all.”

  “You must have some secret,” the first woman said. “How are you so happy?”

  Jane blinked over at her. She saw, very clearly, the drink in the woman’s eyes. Was she unhappy in her marriage, too? Jane thought it was likely. She thought it was likely that there were many unhappy men and women in this room, paired up because it was expected of them and nothing more.

  “I ignore all of the things that make me unhappy,” she said. “Same as you, I’m sure.”

  The crowd around them went quiet. Jane became quite aware that what she had said was abysmally rude.

  Then William’s arms were around her, perversely protective. “Of course, my poor dear has her fair share of unhappiness,” he said. “Still so fragile from the attack in the woods.”

  The subtext to his words was all too clear: Don’t pay too much attention to what she says, she’s still shaken up from her time in the woods, she isn’t right. Faces turned pitying, which cloyed her but at least wasn’t as unbearable as their confusion and discomfort.

  “How terrible,” a woman said.

  “But how wonderful that you survived.”

  “We’re very glad to have you back.”

  “It’s all William.” Jane slipped back into the role easily. “He rescued me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  The words tasted acrid in her throat. Even as the others went back to their own devices, William’s arm sat against her hip, a heavy weight. It was too much. She wanted to rip it off, to free herself.

  “Do you want some fresh air, dear?” A woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Rosemary, Jane thought her name was, the owner of some shop or another. Her round face was full of almost maternal concern. “You look wan.”

  Jane took a deep breath. “I am feeling a bit faint. I may go outside for a moment.”

  William brought her hand to his lips. His breath prickled uncomfortably against her skin. “Should I come with, dear?”

  “No, no.” Please, no. Her head was spinning, and she needed just a second where she didn’t have to manage herself. “I’ll feel very badly if I ruin your good time. I’ll be back to you in a minute.”

  “If you’re sure… I’ll be out to check on you if you’re not back.” To anyone else, it would be a sweet gesture. Only Jane would hear the threat in it, but that was fine. She’d let him threaten her a thousand times if it meant that he’d let go of her hand—

  Finally, finally, he did.

  She excused herself and hurried toward the door, thankful that neither Rosemary or William followed her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her parents’ gaze following her, and she could feel the disapproval wafting off of them. They didn’t matter, either. All that mattered was fresh air.

  She walked out into the chilled night. The air stung her arms without a cloak, but she welcomed it. At least it allowed her to feel something that wasn’t the gaping, numbing, aw
ful hole in her chest.

  The party was at a house near the forest. It was far enough away that it didn’t hold any real danger—she didn’t hear any voices hissing out at her, anyway. Would she even hear them anymore? Or was she too divorced from the forest now, no longer a part of it?

  Nevertheless, while she didn’t hear them literally, her heart conjured up their taunts all the same. Is this really how you want to live? They’d said that about Adelaide’s house, and they had been right. She didn’t want to live isolated. When she was there, a part of her had longed for this.

  But now that she was here, a part of her longed for the warmth of Adelaide’s fire, her dark eyes, her soft touch.

  She slid into a sitting position, staring at the trees. Was this to be her life, no matter what she chose? Caught between two worlds, unable to fully be happy in either?

  Jane sighed. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though she could return to Adelaide. Even if somehow Adelaide did agree to give them another try, they’d just fall into their same old patterns. She’d be unhappy, and she’d be dishonest.

  At least here, her dishonesty was something to be admired.

  She’d made her choice. Adelaide had made her choice. It was time for her to live with it, to stop pining for the trees and the time they’d shared. She’d never forget it, not for as long as she lived. But she would stop wishing for it to come back. Like her childhood, like everything else good in her life, it was behind her.

  Jane stood. She inspected herself carefully, making sure her dress bore no stains. When she was satisfied that she looked every bit the proper woman, she walked back inside, to the laughter of the crowd, which was pleasant, and her waiting betrothed’s arms, which were less so.

  But she’d bear one to get the other.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A Scolding Received

  “HONESTLY, JANE, YOU were an embarrassment tonight!”

  Jane hung her head, unable to meet her mother’s stern gaze. “I apologize.”

  “Everyone is going to be talking about you, you know,” she said. “The way you spoke, how off you were. How you just waltzed out in the middle of it and came back in, refusing to tell anyone what you’d been thinking of.”

  “No one wanted to hear what I was thinking of,” Jane murmured.

  “Then make something up that they do want to hear!” Jane’s mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Honestly, Jane, you’re not a child anymore. You know how this works.”

  And, yes, she did. She might have been out of practice, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t aware of all of the ways she had misstepped at the party tonight. She surely would have spent the night playing over them in her head—her mother was just hastening the examination.

  “I’m sure people will be understanding.” Jane kept her voice soft, not quite challenging but not quite agreeing, either. “Considering what I’ve been through.”

  Jane’s mother rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Jane. You said yourself you don’t remember what happened.”

  Jane averted her eyes, looking out the window. It was what she claimed, but it couldn’t get further from the truth. She remembered everything. Adelaide catching her as she fell. Adelaide bringing her cloak as she cried in the snow. Adelaide writhing beneath her in the light of the fire.

  Adelaide’s touch, Adelaide’s hair, Adelaide’s eyes.

  Adelaide.

  She didn’t even realize that the tears had begun to slip down her cheeks until she heard her mother sigh, half-sympathy and half-annoyance. “Jane.” She put her hand on Jane’s shoulder. “You know I just want what’s best for you. Marrying William is a great step, but it doesn’t mean you can forget who you are.”

  But she wasn’t being who she was, not here. She was just being who she was meant to be. Still… “I know.” She wiped at her eyes. “I will try. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize William’s reputation. I take that very seriously.”

  Jane’s mother hummed, brushing her hair from her face. It was an errant gesture of kindness, one she rarely received, and she couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Her mother made a face, drawing her hand away. “Start acting like it, then.”

  Jane accepted the rebuke silently, hanging her head. She could be pet like an obedient dog, but she’d have to be scolded like a disobedient one, too. At least her mother didn’t seem inclined to kick her out for her social transgressions.

  “Mother,” she called out as she began to leave the room.

  Jane’s mother paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Now that she had her attention, she wasn’t sure what she meant to ask. Finally, she spoke. “How did you meet father?”

  Her mother wrinkled her nose, as though she’d come upon food that had spoiled. “That was years ago, Jane. What does it matter?”

  Jane shrugged, trying for light and polite. “I’ve got marriages on the mind. Is it so strange for a young woman to be curious, with her own marriage so close?”

  Something in her mother’s gaze softened. This much was expected of her. “Silly little dove.” The childhood nickname plucked at her heart. “You always have been romantic, haven’t you? You used to be obsessed with flowers, do you remember?”

  Jane thought of edelweiss and hydrangea, curling together. “I remember.”

  “So frivolous.” Jane’s mother shook her head, half-amused and half-annoyed. “This is frivolous too, you know. There’s nothing to the story. Your father came to my father’s farm and asked for my hand.”

  “Had you spoken much before?”

  “No.” Jane’s mother uttered a little laugh, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “He’d tried, once. We were all dancing, out at the Jamison farm, in that barn that got torn down last year when the roof caved in. He had asked me to dance. But I…”

  She trailed off, her gaze glassy and distant. Jane didn’t interrupt. She swore she could see the reflection of that night in her mother’s eyes—flickering lights, twirling couples. She could nearly hear the laughter and chatter that must have echoed in her mother’s ears.

  Finally, her mother spoke. “There was another man, who had been courting me at the time.” Her voice was soft. Her eyes were soft. Everything about her was soft, and it took ten years off of her. She looked like that pretty woman who must have, once upon a time, twirled through the barn in a young man’s arms. “Ernest. He had the brightest smile you’d ever seen. Soft hair, stormy eyes. A voice that could charm the birds from the trees.”

  “Did you…” Love him? But that was the wrong question to ask, with the answer written all over her mother’s face. “What happened?”

  Jane’s mother shook her head, as if pulling herself from a trance. Her eyes hardened. “He wanted to travel the world as an artist. That… wasn’t the sort of life I needed. I needed stability. I needed to know where my next meal was coming from. I couldn’t have that with him.” She sighed. It was resigned, but not without its wistfulness. “So I told him to move on without me. And he did.”

  “But he loved you, didn’t he?”

  “He did.”

  “And you loved him?”

  Jane’s mother looked away. Her eyes seemed to hold an especially glassy shine. “There are more important things than love, Jane.”

  Everything in her wanted to rally against that. To deny it. But how could she? Hadn’t she turned down love for a similar reason? Even if it was Adelaide to make the final decision, it had been an ending both of them created, perhaps one that had been written in the stars above before they’d even locked eyes. Perhaps they’d simply been fated to break each other.

  “It isn’t fair,” Jane said, voice soft. The words came out before she had even fully decided to speak them aloud. “If you love each other—truly love each other—you should be able to make it work. Isn’t that how love is supposed to be?”

  Her mother gave her a strange look. Jane tensed, sure that she had gone too far. This would be the point wher
e her mother scolded her for being too rude, for asking such impolite questions and giving an impolite response when entertained.

  But her mother didn’t do that. Instead, she seemed to deflate, shoulders curling in on themselves, head hanging low. “Perhaps it should,” she said. “Perhaps it would, in a kinder world. Perhaps Ernest and I would have found a way to compromise. A life where we both could have been happy. But…”

  “But?” Jane couldn’t help prodding. She wanted something, anything to make sense of the maelstrom inside her head.

  “But we don’t live in that world, Jane.” Her mother fixed her with a gaze. “You don’t love William.”

  “I…” The bluntness of the statement shocked her. She never would have anticipated that her mother could be so direct.

  “It’s obvious. If you’d loved him, you would have been engaged far earlier.”

  Jane looked at her lap. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel ashamed, but she did anyway. That tone of her mother’s simply brought it out in her. “We’re engaged now. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”

  Her mother sighed. The wistfulness was gone from her voice for the time being, leaving only her mother, sharp and capable of being cruel. “Yes. And it’s about time.” She shook her head. “Romance and fancy are all good for a girl. But you’ve been a woman for years now. It’s time to leave that in the past.”

  “You’re right.” Jane spoke the words automatically. They rang hollow in her chest. “May I ask one more question?”

  “I suppose. If we can put all of this to bed after.”

  “Are you happy?”

  The question seemed to take her mother by surprise. For a moment, her face twisted, so distressed and vulnerable that it almost made Jane feel sick. But then it was gone, hidden behind a mask of polite cheer. “Of course I am. I have comfort, a home. Food on my table every night. What more could I want?”