Page 89 of Grave Expectations
"I should never have set aside my doubts."
"What doubts?"
"Your influence concerned me from the beginning, but I convinced myself that nothing would change. I was wrong. Everything changed. I changed. By keeping you here, I've been selfish. I haven't been thinking of you or the ministry."
"Don't lump my wellbeing in with the ministry's. And it's not selfish to want the one you love to be near you. That's human."
He paused at the dresser, his back to me. His shoulders slumped forward, but then he straightened again and continued transferring my clothes to the trunk. "You're better off away from me. You can't deny there have been many dangers."
"I think I should be the one to worry about my welfare. I should decide where I want to be, not you."
"This is my house. You are under my protection. I decide." His words echoed those of Lady Harcourt's the day before. She'd also reminded me in no uncertain terms that the house was his.
"You're being draconian."
"I'm thinking clearly for the first time in months."
"Then stop and think about what you're doing, Lincoln."
"I have thought about it. I've thought of nothing else."
"Don't make a hasty decision—"
"There is nothing hasty about it. Ever since returning from Paris, I've become more and more aware that I can't do my job properly with you here. I am the leader of the ministry. The position is not one I can set aside, and it's not one I can give only half of myself to. I need to focus on it entirely."
"That is absurd. Is this because you failed to find Mrs. Drinkwater? I already told you, that wasn't a failure—"
"This is not about that single incident!" He slammed the drawer shut, rattling the mirror, and jerked open the next one. "That was the final straw. It proved to me that I needed to focus more."
"It proved tomethat we work better as a team than apart."
He said nothing but continued to pack for me. He stopped placing the clothes carefully in the trunk, and thrust them into it instead without a care for the delicate fabrics.
I swallowed, but the lump in my throat remained. "So…this is a permanent arrangement? You don't want me back at all?" My voice sounded small, pathetic, but I couldn't be strong anymore. My life was crumbling away before my eyes and I felt utterly powerless to stop it.
He continued to pack without answering.
My legs felt too weak to hold me. I sat heavily on the bed. "Our engagement…"
"It's best that we end it. You're young. You'll recover."
The tears slipped down my cheeks, my chin and dripped onto my lap. Recover? He thought this was just a passing infatuation for me? "No, Lincoln. I won't. Will you?"
His fingers scrunched into my chemise before he released it into the trunk. It lay in a crumpled heap. "Doyle will help you finish packing. You should dress and eat some breakfast. The journey will be a long one."
He strode out of the bedroom. I ran after him and once again caught his arm to stop him. He shook me off.
"I'll answer any questions about the school," he said. "But don't ask me again to change my mind."
I scoffed through my tears. "I'm too old for school."
"This is a school for young ladies, not children."
"Like a finishing school?"
"Of sorts."
"You've been talking to Lord Marchbank. He also mentioned sending me to a school all the way up in the north. It's the same one, isn't it? I might know nothing about being a lady, but I do know that finishing schools are usually in London or in cities on the continent."
