She feels on the verge of tears, and at the same time, wrung out, hollow. Perhaps she does belong here after all. Perhaps she is mad, but not for the reasons John and Dr. Harrington thought. It’s strange, perhaps not what she was raised to believe, but she can understand men loving men and women loving women. But not loving anyone at all? At least not being in love with anyone? Not feeling that desperate flutter, the skip and beat in the pulse so many poets speak of?

She’s afraid to look at Mary now, and turns her attention to the window instead. With the chill in the air, no one is outside, but if she allows her eyes to lose their focus, she can easily conjure herself and Mary, running across the lawn. In her mind, she wills the wall and the hedge and the fence to vanish so the two figures can run forever, dwindling to black smudges against an endless horizon.

“You’ve told your husband about me?” Mary asks.

Wendy risks a glance back at her.

“Some. Not…” She waves her hand vaguely. “Not everything I said just now. I suppose I hadn’t realized until just this moment exactly what it is I want. I’m still not entirely sure I do know.”

Warmth colors Wendy’s cheeks and she resists the urge to put her hands against them to cover the blush. Why is this so difficult?

“I still want to open a shop,” Mary says. Her words are careful, considered. Wendy glances at her again and sees the light gleaming in her eyes. It reminds Wendy so much of the expression Mary would get when they planned their escapades of old that it almost undoes her. Only now they aren’t planning a theft, or an impossible escape, but their futures, real ones.

“Do you think you and Ned might help me?”

“I…” Wendy opens her mouth, but no words follow the first.

The question catches her off guard, almost as though Mary hasn’t heard a word she’s said. But of course Mary has heard her, and she’s taken it all in stride, finding nothing strange in Wendy’s desires at all.

“The rest we can figure out in time.” Mary grins, showing the gap between her teeth, and Wendy’s heart turns over.

Tears threaten again, hot and full behind her eyes, making them itch. This time it isn’t fear though, but hope that they might all be together after all. A family. She blinks rapidly to bring them under control.

“I can speak to Ned. I’m certain he would agree to help, though we’ll have to find a way to hide it from his father. Perhaps my brothers might help as well—”

Mary holds up a hand, cutting Wendy off. Surprised, Wendy falls silent.

“I won’t take charity.”