Page 30 of The Scholar’s Spy

“Antics?” It made her sound childish. Father had never been guilty of that. No, Mr. Fossey had been fiercely loyal. Besides, Abigail knew she had been his favorite—and for a good reason, she was a clever woman, whose mind meant she did not need to bow to the rules that governed others. It was one of the things Robert seemed to like about her too.

“Whatever it is when you care not a jot for your reputation.”

“There are other words you might pick,” Abigail said. “What about brave and defiant?”

“But I did pick that word, and lots of people in this very town would pick far worse.” There was a grit to the way that Judith spoke, and as she drew closer, Abigail wanted more than ever to turn tail and run. “I picked that word, because there is already talk about you around Lyme, before anyone even knew about you sneaking off to see your Mr. O’Sullivan at night in his hotel room—”

“He isn’t mine.”

“Everyone believes he is, so it might as well be so. Miss Guthrie is threatening to write to our mother about your upcoming engagement.”

“No one could honestly believe—”

“Mother is coming home.” Judith drew out a letter and held it up in the remains of the firelight. “She expects to hear the good news from your own lips.”

“No.” The frayed, tired, sore edges of Abigail’s mind wavered, and she snatched up the letter, marched forward and threw it promptly into the embers. “There is nothing to tell.”

“Then what are you doing with him tonight?”

“Making sure…” Abigail stopped herself. If she said more, how would Judith react? Would her sister tell their mother, would she insist that Robert do the honorable thing… the kiss might have been wondrous, excellent, everything and more than Abigail had wanted to experience. That did not mean she was now prepared to marry him. Marriage would mean a sacrifice of her dreams. Her wants. Her future discoveries. There was all the difference in the world between a kiss and a husband.

If their mother came, she would never take ‘No’ for an answer and would be likely to chase Robert—Mr. O’Sullivan—through the very streets of Lyme Regis if she thought it might resolve matters to her satisfaction. There was no possibility that Abigail could allow that, which meant she would have to break things off, and ideally send Mr. O’Sullivan away.

“I will tell Mother—that there has been a mistake. It was Miss Guthrie’s, no one else’s.”

With an exasperated sigh, Judith rubbed at her face in a circular movement, the movement the gesture of a child, but Abigail did not understand why her sister was playing at being an infant again. Was she tired? It was her own fault for staying up.

“I came up here to distract you, and stayed waiting for your return.” Judith walked over to the small side table, and lifted from the surface, a dark bound manuscript of the time Abigail could spend hours poring over. “Fresh from London, your zoological paper. The Cuvier pamphlet was delivered to the booksellers.” She held the work out, and Abigail leaned forward keen to take it.

“Mother will not find your answer on the situation with Mr. O’Sullivan to her liking.”

“There is no understanding between us.” Abigail’s anger was mounting. Why could no one comprehend it? Judith was normally so sensible. Grasping for a way of shutting down a conversation, Abigail lied, “Mr. O’Sullivan is leaving Lyme shortly. I will make sure he does so, if only to put an end to these rumors. There was never any likelihood he would marry me.” Abigail unwound the leather bindings, only half paying attention to her words.

“Then he is a cad. Playing you—us—the whole town for a fool. His status as a hero for saving you will not last long if that is the position he is clinging to.”

“Why would I care?” Abigail’s irrational anger, the kind that sometimes came upon her, rumbled through her stomach, was causing her mind to be split in different directions.

“You’ve snuck out to his rooms, because…” Judith trailed off, and stepped closer, she was frowning, and an expression that was perhaps meant to convey kindness. Was her oldest sister suddenly going to come over saintly? Abigail wished she was better at understanding what Judith wished to convey, but as ever it was hard to grasp what was meant by the squeeze of Judith’s fingers on her arm.

“I wish for us to be closer,” Judith said. “For you to trust me a little more. As you did with Father. There isn’t—”

“Don’t talk about Papa.”

Judith sighed, and raised a hand to her forehead to rub at the crease between her brows. “I merely meant I am not Mother. Since I know what regard you hold her in, I simply wish you to know that you and I…”

It was unfair, Abigail realized. Whilst she might not be able to fully comprehend her sister, Judith was able to see and understand every move and twitch Abigail made.

“If you really cared for the gentleman, then surely—”

“What does it matter?” Annoyance flared through her. For a moment, she forgot the pages she held as she looked at her sister, staring her down, wanting nothing more than silence so she could conclude whatever muddle her mind was in. “I would not wish to marry anyone.”

An expression played over Judith’s face, one which Abigail hoped was acceptance, but she wasn’t sure.

“In which case, I wish you luck for when Mother arrives. And for a better answer than the one you have just given me,” Judith said.

Finally, Judith left Abigail in peace, with only her buzzing thoughts for company, which she found out, as she slid into her bed, was a poor companion compared to the memory of Robert’s kiss.

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