A Question Worth Asking

When Sera returned to Blackwood, Alex was waiting on the front steps.

She had clearly intended to greet her with dignity. Sera could tell from the straight shoulders, the buttoned coat, the very proper position of her hands.

Then Sera stepped out of the carriage.

Alex came down three steps at once.

Sera met her halfway and found herself wrapped in an embrace so immediate that the footman discreetly turned to the luggage.

"I did write," Sera said, smiling into her collar.

"I read everything."

"Twice?"

"More than twice."

Alex kissed her cheek. Sera turned her head and caught the next kiss properly, feeling Alex's arms tighten before she remembered where they were.

Behind them, Julian cleared his throat.

"Welcome back. Several members of the household will be grateful. My sister has become a dreadful person to play cards with."

Alex released Sera just enough to look at him.

"I won."

"You won three times while staring out of the window. It was demoralizing."

Sera took Alex's hand and went inside laughing.

Her blue cup was waiting in the study.

There was also a new cushion on the window seat and space cleared on the shelf for her books. Alex pointed out the space with unusual shyness.

"You needn't put them there. I only thought—"

"I like it."

Sera put the poetry collection on the shelf, then leaned back into Alex's arms.

"You could have made room for a few more."

"How many?"

"We'll discover that together."

The weeks that followed were the happiest Sera could remember.

They learned how to make ordinary days fit. Alex worked in the mornings; Sera read, painted, or wrote to her mother. They ate lunch together when they could and left notes when they couldn't.

Sometimes a note simply said where one of them would be.

Sometimes Sera drew an extremely unflattering little picture of Alex frowning at paperwork.

Alex kept that one inside her desk.

They quarreled once about whether a window should be open, and once about an ending in the travel essays. Neither argument lasted beyond tea.

Sera discovered Alex liked having her hair touched while reading. Alex discovered Sera became much more willing to leave a warm bed if promised breakfast outdoors.

They still slept in separate rooms, but there were evenings when saying good night took half an hour, and mornings when Sera arrived early with her hair unbound and asked for a kiss before any conversation.

Alex never seemed to tire of obliging.

One afternoon, three weeks after Sera's return, Alex began behaving strangely.

She looked into the corridor before asking Sera whether she was free that evening. She checked the clock twice during tea. When Julian entered, she gave him a look that made him reverse direction immediately.

Sera set down her cup.

"Has somebody committed a crime?"

"Not yet," Alex said, watching the doorway.

Sera bit back a smile.

At dinner there were candles, fresh flowers, and a dish Alex had asked whether she liked only the previous day.

Alex asked if she was comfortable three times.

Sera loved her so much it became difficult to eat.

"The soup is excellent," she said, helping her along.

"Good."

"The chair is excellent."

Alex closed her eyes briefly.

"Am I being very obvious?"

Sera reached across the table.

"You look as though you're about to negotiate a border."

"I think I might be better at that."

Sera rubbed her thumb over Alex's hand.

"Let's go outside."

"There was supposed to be dessert."

"It will survive without our supervision."

Sera fetched her little bag from the sitting room and led Alex down the corridor to the jasmine terrace.

The evening was mild. Summer had filled the flower boxes, and the rose bed below the railing had lost its alarming stakes beneath a mass of new leaves.

Alex looked around and laughed softly.

"Here?"

"I thought you might feel more confident in familiar circumstances."

"Should I provide a ladder?"

"I've taken to using doors. You're a good influence."

They sat on the bench where Alex had left her gloves the day they met.

Sera turned toward her, knees tucked to one side.

"What did you think when you found me?"

Alex let out a breath.

"That you were going to break your ankle before I'd managed to introduce myself."

"And after that?"

Alex looked at her mouth.

Sera laughed.

"You don't have to answer."

"I was trying to be respectful. You'd just told me it was an accident."

"It was."

"I know."

"The next ones were very deliberate."

Alex brushed her thumb along Sera's cheek.

"I noticed."

Sera leaned into the touch. For once she didn't feel any need to hide how much she loved being looked at this way.

"When did you know?" Alex asked.

"That I loved you?"

Alex nodded.

Sera considered giving a clever answer. Alex's expression deserved a true one.

"I knew I wanted to see you before I knew what to call it. I kept finding things I wanted to tell you. And then I started noticing the things you didn't say."

"Such as?"

"You never told me I looked foolish on Clover. You let me think the second cup had simply appeared. You pretended not to be tired because you wanted me to have a lovely afternoon."

Alex's eyes softened.

"You noticed rather a lot."

"I was gathering background information."

They laughed together. Then Alex reached into her coat.

The small velvet box made Sera's heart leap so hard that she forgot her next breath.

"I wanted to ask you here," Alex admitted. "But I thought perhaps I'd arranged too much already. I didn't know how to bring you without making it obvious."

"I like helping with difficult plans."

"Your first escape was appalling."

"And yet it brought me exactly where I wanted to be."

Alex's smile wavered. She opened the box.

Inside lay a delicate gold ring. An emerald and a pale blue sapphire rested beside each other, joined by a fine curve of leaves.

Sera pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Yes," she whispered.

Alex laughed, eyes suddenly wet.

"I haven't asked."

"Then ask quickly. I'm terribly impatient."

Alex set the box between them and took both her hands.

"Sera, I want to marry you. I want your books taking over my shelves. I want to hear whatever you've thought about the marmalade. I want you beside me when things are difficult, and when they're so ordinary that nobody would think to write them down."

A tear slipped over Sera's cheek.

Alex brushed it away, her own voice growing less steady.

"I can't promise to always remember dinner or be sensible about how much I work. I can promise to listen when you remind me. And to tell you when I need you."

Sera squeezed her hands.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Happily. Very impatiently. Yes."

She kissed Alex before the ring had reached her finger.

Alex laughed against her mouth, drew her closer, and kissed her until Sera's tears had mingled with smiling.

Eventually they managed the ring. It fitted perfectly.

Sera admired it, then reached for her bag.

"I brought something too."

She produced a small cedar box, bought unfinished from a craftsman at Ashford. She had sanded the lid smooth, painted the jasmine terrace inside it, and lined the lower half with blue silk.

On the little painted bench sat two figures. One had a pale blue skirt. The other's dark coat had a visibly crooked lapel.

Alex stared at it.

"For your letters," Sera said. "The ones you keep folding into your desk until they fall out whenever you open it."

Alex touched the painted bench with one fingertip.

"You made this?"

"Somebody else made the box. I caused the paint stains."

Alex looked up at her. The expression on her face made Sera's teasing fall away.

"I have been making plans too," she said softly. "You aren't the only one who wants forever."

Alex put the box carefully aside and pulled her into her arms.

The dessert, they learned much later, had indeed survived.