Page 80 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Ariella sighs. “You know I shall.”
Selene moves to head into the house too, but Aunt Elizabeth jabs a cane across her path. She turns to Selene with a pointed look. “Tea,” she says. “Now. Before you attempt to vanish on me.”
Selene blinks. “I—”
“No arguments. The rest of you can do whatever it is men insist on doing after travel, but she is coming with me.”
Selene glances towards Dorian, but he isn’t even looking at her. Soren and Marta are already unloading their things, and Rookwood gives a wheezing chuckle, though whether it is at Elizabeth’s insistence or simply the sight of them all returned, Selene can’t say.
“Very well,” she relents, smoothing her skirts. “Tea it is.”
Elizabeth nods, satisfied, and links their arms. “Good girl.”
They slip into the parlour together. Aunt Elizabeth settles herself into the seat beside the window. Selene excuses herself briefly to relieve herself. A tea tray has already arrived by the time she returns.
“So,” says Elizabeth, pouring the tea, “how are things with you, my dear? It has been a while since we last spoke.”
Selene is surprised she isn’t asking about what happened at the Fairmont’s. “Aren’t you curious about—”
“Mildly,” admits Elizabeth. “But I can’t imagine you’ll enjoy my asking about that. It must have been rather scary for you, dear.”
Selene scrunches her skirt under the table. “It… it wasn’t pleasant.”
“These things seldom are.” She sips her tea, but finds it too hot. “Did something happen between you and my nephew?”
Selene bristles. “You… how did you—”
“Women’s intuition,” she tells her. “I’m not wrong, am I?”
“No,” says Selene quietly. “You aren’t wrong.”
“Do you wish to speak about it?”
Selene’s eyes well. “I don’t think he wants to be with me. Not… not in the way I think I would like to be with him.”
Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. “Youthink?”
“I… I’m a little uncertain myself.”
“Perhaps it is your hesitation that causes his.”
Selene wants to believe that. It’s kinder than what she imagines the truth to be. Love is not an easy or simple thing, it has layers. For some, limits. Dorian can like her and not love her. She can admire who he is, love his kindness, love how he makes her feel and the safety he brings, and not lovehim.
She understands his hesitation if he has loved and lost before. She understands not wanting to be hurt again (she understands that so much) and, more than sheunderstands anything, she knows she does not want to hurt him. She’d prefer to hurt a little and by herself than put him through anything. Dorian deserves to be loved—fully, properly. Not half-heartedly by a scared girl overwhelmed by guilt and gratitude.
“I don’t think I’m right for him, Aunt Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth snorts. “Nonsense. You are kind, well-mannered, beautiful—”
Selene cringes. Her beauty has served her poorly in the past. It’s not that she doesn’t like being beautiful, but she dislikes being decorative. She dislikes how people see her face and nothing else.
“You disagree?” Elizabeth asks, misreading her expression.
“I don’t think beauty is a trait Dorian values.”
“No? What do you think he values?”
“Cleverness,” she admits. “Kindness. Generosity. Thoughtfulness…”
