The two of them wandered slowly along the edge of the lake.
By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned what had happened at noon in the empty classroom.
It was like a secret they both understood without saying, tucked away carefully somewhere deep and private.
"I like this." Mary's voice came from beside him, so soft it might have been meant for no one but herself.
"Hm?"
"I said, I like this." She lifted her head to look at Russell, and those deep blue eyes caught the last of the sunset like two jewels someone had lit from within.
"Not having to rush home. Not having to worry every second that Father will find out and be displeased."
Mary said it quietly, then turned her gaze forward again.
"Just walking like this, slowly. Not thinking about anything. Not having to work anything out."
There was a trace of contentment in the girl's voice, an ease.
Russell watched her profile, the pale line of her face warmed by the setting sun, every edge of her softened by it.
"So do I," he said softly.
Mary smiled at that, and in the low light of dusk the smile was dazzling.
They carried on along the little path by the water, and for a long while neither of them spoke again.
The last of the sunlight stretched their shadows out long and slanting across the ground, and as they walked the shadows tangled together, then drew apart, then tangled again.
After a stretch of road, Mary broke the silence.
"That thing you said in class this afternoon... about someone dying, and the bloodstains, and all that..."
She paused, and concern crept into her voice.
"Were you hurt?"
"Relax, I wasn't." Russell shook his head. "The blood wasn't mine."
"Then whose..."
"Pilsen's."
"What?" The girl let her mouth fall open in a performance of surprise. "Hadn't he... gone into hiding?"
"Charlotte worked out where he was hiding, so we went to bring him in together. Then there was a small accident, and Pilsen died."
Russell sighed.
The girl nodded along as though that were the most reasonable thing in the world, then buried her chin in her scarf.
She didn't raise the subject again.
An evening like this, romantic and unhurried, wasn't meant to be spent on things like that.
They walked on a little farther.
"In a while — will you have any free time?" Mary asked.
"Why?"
"It's just... sometime soon. I can't say exactly when, but there may be a few literary salons, that sort of thing."
The girl's voice stayed low.
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take you with me."
Russell raised an eyebrow.
"Is this your father's idea?"
"He — he did say something like that. But that isn't why I want to bring you. Not because he said so."
Mary said it quickly, a little flustered, as though she couldn't get the disclaimer out fast enough.
"Of course, you might not find salons interesting at all. It's really only a crowd of people sitting around eating pastries and talking about nothing in particular..."
She stopped, then pressed on. "If you don't like crowds, or if the atmosphere would just be awkward, we could go to the theatre instead — we could take a box. How does that sound?"
"Sure," Russell said, with almost no hesitation at all.
"R-really?"
Mary clearly hadn't expected him to agree so readily. Something bright and startled flickered through her eyes.
"Don't you think that sort of occasion is dreadfully dull? Having to wear formal dress, listening to people go on about things that have no bearing on anything..."
"It does sound dull," Russell said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Which is why I said the theatre."
"The theatre — the theatre's no trouble at all, I can have someone arrange a box." The girl sounded almost breathless with it.
"Only... I'm not certain you'd like the plays. They might not be... accessible enough."
"It's fine," Russell said, shaking his head, a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Worst case, I simply won't watch."
"Won't watch...?" Mary tilted her head. "If you go to the theatre and don't watch the play, what exactly do you do?"
Surely he wasn't planning to sit there working through the fruit platter.
"You watch the play," Russell said.
"And you?"
"I'll watch you."
The words landed, and Mary's feet stopped dead.
The evening glow lay across the girl's pale face, staining that fine skin a faint, warm crimson.
As though a small fire had been lit under it, burning until the heat ran through her whole body.
Her lips parted slightly. Those eyes, which by rights should have held nothing but easy composure, were now full of a helpless, scattered panic.
Like a young doe whose territory had been invaded without warning, staring round-eyed at the intruder, lost and uneasy.
"How can you... say something so improper again."
Mary shrank her cheek down into the warm scarf without thinking, trying to hide her traitorous, burning face in the soft wool.
"Did I say something wrong?" Russell blinked at her, the picture of innocence.
Mary lifted her head at that and shot him a look from those lovely blue eyes, shyness threaded all through it.
"You did it... on purpose."
Russell looked at her, at how endearingly bashful she was, and laughed under his breath.
"That's what you get for teasing me at noon."
"I — I did no such thing..." The girl's voice grew smaller and smaller, until at last she simply turned her face away and refused to look at him.
Russell smiled and let the subject drop.
Far enough was far enough.
Just like at noon.
One step further and that invisible line might snap underfoot.
He wasn't opposed to what lay on the other side of it. Only not now.
It ought to arrive at a more fitting moment, a more proper one.
Not this rushed, this offhand — not with less gravity and care than he put into choosing a playlist for his own bath.
There should be clothes chosen with real thought. There should be applause like thunder. There should be flowers thrown wide open, and music that could break your heart with how beautiful it was.
Ceremony matters.
This was very likely the one and only chance he would get in this life. It shouldn't be squandered so casually.
"Let's go," Russell said, breaking the small silence. "It's nearly dark. If we don't head back soon, Mrs. Hudson will have words for me again."
"Mm."
Mary answered with just that, then set off walking again.
Neither spoke the whole way. They crossed the lakeside path, gilded gold by the last of the sunset, and soon reached the school gate.
The Morstan family carriage was already waiting there in silence.
"Well then." Russell stopped and looked at Mary. "See you tomorrow."
"Mm." Mary stopped too, but didn't climb in straight away. She only turned her head and looked at him.
"See you tomorrow."
She said it softly, a faint catch of nasality in her voice.
Then the girl gathered up her skirts, turned, and stepped into the carriage.
The door closed, shutting away that slender silhouette.
Russell stayed where he was, watching the black carriage roll slowly into motion, merge into the traffic, and finally vanish around the corner.
Only then did he turn, and set off toward Baker Street into the first cold wind of winter.
"Come to think of it, I forgot to ask her when."
The thought struck him and he smacked his forehead, then shrugged.
"Never mind. I won't ask."
Wait, and hope.
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