Page 74 of I Know You

And it’s Quint who answers. “She has indeed,” he says, his smile forced. “She’s engaged.” His expression to Kitty is reassuring. I’m no threat.

“It’s actually rather complicated,” I say. I want Quint to hear my honesty. “I’m not sure I’ll go through with it.”

Kitty’s eyebrows shoot up, then pinch together. “How shocking!”

Florence sniffs her disapproval. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m sure Miss Gr—Mitchell would rather not have to tell us,” Quint says, his own expression somewhat tense. Does he worry what I’ll say? The thought almost brings a smile to my face. He’s seen enough evidence of me speaking my mind to both him and Ben to justify his worry.

“It’s nothing terribly secret or sordid,” I say anyway, growing bolder with every word. Florence leans forward the slightest bit in anticipation of salacious gossip, no doubt, though she tries to keep her disapproving frown in place. “An old boyfriend my fiancé doesn’t believe I’ve gotten over.” I shrug as though it’s nothing and keep my gaze on Kitty and Florence.

Kitty’s expression is hard, but she manages to plaster on a sympathetic frown. “Oh dear. You ought to assure him that you certainly are! Men don’t like to think they’re second best.”

Yes, that I’m well aware of. “Except that I’m quite certain I haven’t gotten over him at all.” I sigh and shrug in a what-can-I-do sort of way and try not to appear too triumphant at the way Kitty’s eyes narrow. A side-eyed glance at Quint shows him with one arm crossed over his chest, propping his other up by the elbow, and his face in his hand. Is he covering a laugh or anger? I instantly feel ashamed. Quint wants to move on with his life, and I’m sabotaging that when I know it can’t be any different for us.

But Kitty doesn’t deserve him. I trust Mrs. Barrow on that. “Do you remember Lizette?” I ask, turning to Quint. Perhaps she’d been a bit fast for Quint then, but I’d approved of her far more than I ever would of Kitty.

“Yes,” he replies, one corner of his mouth going up. “She got married soon after you last saw her and has three lovely children.”

That’s too bad. “I’m very glad for her,” I say instead. “She was such a nice girl.” I hope Quint gets that hint. It’s somewhat reassuring that the hint of his smile remains.

“Yes,” he agrees.

Kitty happily goes with the change of subject, asking about more of Quint’s acquaintances that she’s heard about from him. I turn my attention to the book, trying not to notice Quint and Kitty or pay any attention to Florence either. I haven’t read a word of the action-adventure novel I’ve found on the side table, though I find it endearing that Quint reads books like this, and I’m hopeful that the mischievous young man I met in 1928 still hangs around somewhere in this version of Quint.

When the other three decide to walk on the grounds, I decline. I’ve said enough already to put him in a tight spot with his fiancée. Instead, I get up and peruse the shelves, smiling to myself when I come across a row of Jane Austen books. Is Quint a fan, or are they part of a proper library of classics? I slide Persuasion out, thinking it’s appropriately themed to entertain me, perhaps more than I should indulge in. I flutter through the pages until I find a familiar line that means something particular to me that afternoon. I speak the words out loud to hear them, but softly. “‘I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.’” I sigh.

I tuck the book under my arm and go upstairs to get my coat. When I ascertain from the door that the others have walked the opposite way of the grove of trees, I steal down there, sitting on a bench that I don’t remember being there before. I cast a wistful gaze at the pond, as though the surface could show me the day Quint had shared with me how he remembered my mother. In order to force my mind away from the disappointing juncture in our relationship that I’ve come to—and the even more disappointing fact that I can’t change that—I begin to read.

“It’s not fair to a man to disappear like that, you know.” His voice makes me whirl around in hope, but Quint stands stiffly a few steps away. I stand and open my mouth to answer, but he reddens and amends, “I meant from the house just now—not … not before.”

“I’m sorry for both cases. I didn’t think you’d miss me.”

He swallows before sighing. “Ben asked me to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat.

He takes another step back. “Let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing out here.”

He waits for me to nod and start up the path before he falls into step beside me. We walk like that, side by side but miles apart, back to the house.

Ben doesn’t return that night or the next day. I finish Persuasion, and out of guilt, spend the rest of the time looking over newspapers like I did last time. I have to do something productive. I wish he’d send a note telling me he’s okay. Considering the last thing he’d heard me say, he might not think I care.

My anxiousness is almost overwhelming by the end of the third day, and it’s at the breaking point as the fourth day draws to a close. I’ve found nothing to explain Gibbons’s presence here and to help Ben, and half the time I stare out the windows and worry. I try to keep my agitation hidden from Quint’s guests when they come for dinner every night, forcing polite but strained smiles and fumbling over conversation.

The Pratt sisters depart right after dinner that evening, and I’m preparing to leave Quint in the library, since any conversation between just the two of us is impossible. The door swings open, and Ben strides in.

I jump out of my seat, but remembering his cold reception the last time he returned after his detective work, I stay rooted to the spot instead of going to him. I don’t know what kind of mood he’ll be in.

“Good evening, all.” He glances between us, his expression hesitant.

It’s such a blessed relief to see him whole and safe, and I don’t think I keep that out of the tone of my own greeting. “I’m glad to see you’re back. Did you find anything?”

He casts me a sad smile, and my stomach twists because it says we’ve lost something special to both of us. The night before he left can’t be undone—but can we get past it?

“I was quite successful,” he answers. He turns to Quint. “You ought to make sure no one disturbs us.”

Quint nods, crossing the room to pull the rope. When Mrs. Barrow appears, he repeats the instruction before closing the door and then turns to stare at Ben expectantly.