Page 65 of Purchase Power
“I knew my traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows,” Noah began, with nary a haughty air, “his square forehead, made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and jaw--yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term--broad chested and thin flanked, though neither tall nor graceful.” He lowered his tablet. “Recognize that, Lucy?” Her name was still foreign to his tongue. The casualness of those sounds brought him a small semblance of joy, however.
Her curious expression reminded him of Stacey when she was much younger. Even after the trauma, before it settled into her bones and changed her heart and head. That sparkling disposition that reminded Noah that there was hardly a woman on that earth whodidn’thave this side to herself. Some merely hid it better than others.My mother, for one. She hides it in the depths of her numbed heart.
“Are you reading my favorite book based upon my recommendation?” Lucy asked. “Or because it’s what your book club is reading next?”
Noah almost didn’t catch the joke. “Your recommendation, I assure you. When a woman refers to me as a Mr. Rochester, I want to find out what kind of man he is.”
“So?” Lucy dug into her salad. “What kind of man is he?”
Noah considered his options while avoiding watching her eat. “I can’t say I’m impressed that I’m so constantly compared to a man as disagreeable as him. Not that Jane is a peach, either. I certainly think you’re more entertaining than her.”
“Wait ‘til you get to the part about her pure and pious ass refusing to be the sugar baby on the side. You’ll really think she’s the exact opposite of me.”
“Why do you love this book so much, then?”
Lucy took a couple more bites of her salad while Noah had yet to touch his. “It’s one half reading it as a kid and thinking it was the most amazing piece of literature I had ever consumed until then, and half digesting it for the rest of my life. Loving something as a kid and having those nostalgia goggles will always make you like something more than it probably deserves. But there’s something about Charlotte’s writing that really speaks to me. Everything is so matter-of-fact to the point that you don’t even realize the pain, the fear, and the undying love inside of Jane until you reach the final chapter. She’s one of the most subdued heroines in literature, yet you feel half the world’s emotions within her heart. The amount of loss she encountered is truly something… I mean, if you’ve made it that far in the book, you must know.”
“The part about her friend at the boarding school was unfortunate, yes.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Lucy looked away, chuckling. “Now you know why I call you Mr. Rochester and your home Thornfield Hall, right?”
“Because you were lucky enough to be invited into my grand estate with the promise of enough money to make it worth it.” Noah drank more wine. “And sex, I suppose.”
Lucy glanced around the balcony, as if anyone had heard him. “You know how that book ends, right?”
“I’ve vaguely picked things up over the years.”
“So you know about Bertha…”
“Is that her name? Now you’re in spoiler territory.”
“For a book that’s a hundred and fifty years old?”
Noah clicked his tongue. Lucy was not amused.
“Mr. Rochester’s secrets are the reason Jane has her heart broken once again. We all know why he kept those secrets, but it’s not enough to absolve him of the pain he was responsible for in Jane’s life.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“When I decided to go into this line of work,” Lucy said, “I read online that there isn’t a rich man on this earth who doesn’t have a giant secret he’s keeping from the people he supposedly loves.” She glanced at him. “I suppose this means you’re keeping secrets.”
“Suppose it does,” Noah was a little too quick to say.
Lucy was taken aback. “I want to know one thing.” That serious tone to her voice did not suit her. Nevertheless, Noah nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“Do you have children?”
Noah almost didn’t believe it at first.Thatwas her question, when the answer was so obvious that it pained him to answer? “None that I know of.” His voice was brusque, even for him. “Why? Were you under the impression that I was hiding children somewhere around here?” The only childlike person in his household was Stacey, and nobody mistook her for a little girl once they saw her. She was in her twenties, for God’s sake. “I certainly hope not. That means one of the help is leaving their kids in the staff room because they can’t find a babysitter again.” He didn’t tolerate that mixing of personal life and professional in his home, although he was the biggest hypocrite of them all.
“I’m not sure about anything around here,” Lucy said. “I just wanted to know.”
Noah could have asked any number of questions, but he settled on saying, “How about we focus on a romantic evening? We’re having pasta tonight.”
“Oooh, pasta! The one thing I can enjoy that my sister can’t.”
“Why’s that? Allergic to gluten?”
Lucy shook her head while chewing her food. “She can have pasta. I was a bit off. What I meant is that she’s allergic to nightshades. They totally tear up her stomach.”
