A Curse of the Heart

Gabriel sat up in the chair. “Sell them? Rebecca, if you need money, then I am more than happy to help. You do not ne

ed to sell the things most precious to you.”

“Don’t you see,” she said, her face revealing her excitement. “They are objects, Gabriel, objects I do not need, as there is something far more interesting I can do with the money.”

Gabriel frowned, fearing he was not going to like this interesting idea. “So you do not need money to cover household expenses?”

“No,” she said, clutching her hands to her chest. “I need the money because I am going to Egypt.”

“Egypt?” he cried, shooting out of the chair as the whole world seemed to tilt and sway and he was in danger of falling into a black hole of oblivion. “Egypt!”

“Yes, I know you’re surprised,” she nodded, “but isn’t it a wonderful idea? I think my father would have approved.”

“Your father would have taken you over his knee and tanned your backside,” he barked, before flopping back into his chair. He wanted his words to offend, to knock some sense into that carefree head of hers, to make her understand how ridiculous it sounded.

But the words rebounded off this new, confident suit she wore. “You know you are far too stuffy. Where is your sense of adventure? What is the point of spending years studying relics when there are hundreds of items lying buried beneath the sands?”

“Egypt?”

“Think how amazing it will be, Gabriel, to tread in the footsteps of pharaohs, to see Cairo, Luxor, Alexandria.”

Gabriel swallowed, his stomach forming intricate knots, his mind bombarding him with questions. How could she think of going out there on her own? What would happen to him if she left? Why did the idea sound so wonderful, yet so damn terrifying at the same time?

“Have you considered the fact it might be dangerous? An unmarried lady living on her own in a foreign land is unheard of,” he said, pleased he had managed to speak calmly as he wanted to scream and shout until the roof billowed.

“Gabriel, last night I could have been murdered in my bed. Indeed, it has made me see that nowhere is truly safe. I can sit here and mourn a life lost to me, or I can head out into the world and make a new one.”

Her words made him question the philosophy he used to justify his seclusion: the justification that it was right to mourn the past, as a reminder not to make the same mistakes in the future.

“And as for being unmarried,” she continued, “I will tell everyone I am a widow. People are inclined to believe what they hear if the story is told with conviction. You know if I were married, no man would permit such a thing.”

“Well, in that we are agreed.”

She took another few sips of claret. “If I ever do marry, then I want my sons to be explorers and adventures. I want my daughters to fight for their right to do the same, to be strong with unshakable resolve.”

“Just like their mother,” he whispered, the image of two daughters with copper curls and two sons with hair as black as his own, dancing before his eyes.

“I would not want them to sit around living in the past, Gabriel, and I’m sure my parents didn’t want that for me.”

He picked his glass up from the table and slouched back in the chair. “Remind me to give Higson his notice when I return or at least nail his tongue to the pillory.”

“Higson’s words have saved me from a life dominated by grief. Now, I have decided to choose the good memories, to remember my parents are with me always.”

“I understand that, Rebecca,” he said, “but Egypt.” He did not want to understand anything that would take her so far away from him. Then it occurred to him it would take weeks or maybe months to plan for such a trip. He had plenty of time to change her mind. In the meantime, he would go along with her plan. “Then let me buy the items,” he said. “I have seen them and know their worth. Let me give you the money to go to Egypt.”

“No,” she said abruptly.

“No? You would rather see them in the hands of a stranger?”

When she looked at him, her eyes brimmed with compassion. “Gabriel, I would rather throw them in a furnace than have you spend another day locked away in your cellar, studying old relics and whatever else you do there.”

His cellar?

Why had she said that? He had not mentioned it before.

Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face. What the hell had Higson told her? He would nail more than the man’s tongue to the pillory, he thought, his heart beating so loudly it pounded in his ears.

You have to tell her now.