The Pirate & The Porcelain Doll (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 19

Waverly received her first letter from Nicole two days later. She wrote her brother insisted she stay with him, at least for a few days before making the journey to Wattlestone. A servant would accompany her, assist with her luggage and ensure she was comfortable on the journey home. She apologised again for having caused concern over her illness, assuring Waverly she was feeling much better.

She mentioned finding a butterfly in her bedroom, the colour of its wings the most delicate shade of green, trapped inside a room which, while large and dry and warm, offered the poor insect no freedom. She described how the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings, tapping them repeatedly against the panes of glass, calling to the world beyond, searching for a way out, seeking to join that which was within sight yet out of its reach. I simply had to do the decent thing, she wrote. I ate it. It tasted delicious. I hope to enjoy the taste of many more to come.

Waverly laughed, admiring Nicole's inventiveness to talk about love, knowing at that time of year it was indeed possible to see a butterfly indoors having entered in autumn, fallen asleep only to wake believing it to be spring. How she longed to be that butterfly, to drink in Nicole's dark eyes, to feel Nicole's breath close to her face, to be consumed by Nicole's lips. Lips that had set her free, lips that had allowed her heart to soar higher than she ever thought possible. She sent a letter back:

My dearest friend,

I am so glad to hear you are feeling a little better and have an opportunity to regain your strength before returning to Wattlestone. I will look forward to future visits, but only when you are well. That must be your priority above all other matters.

As to the butterfly. I am fascinated to hear of your encounter. How curious it chose your room to awaken this time of year. It must have sought the safety of your company in the depths of winter. That it should then meet its fate by being consumed by the person it looked to for release is somewhat unfortunate. And yet, to die in your mouth is perhaps the more noble way to depart this world than to be cast out into the cold wilderness.

Yours truly Wiggle.

Their silly letters to each other continued over the following weeks, Nicole's ability to say something without it being said impressing Waverly, smiling to herself each time she read a phrase, or a sentence, understanding the true meaning. As much as she tried, she could never quite get the same effect, hoping not to be indiscreet, wanting to say so much more.

She continued to accompany James on walks, glad of his company and his brain. She previously had worried how she would accommodate him and Nicole in her life, yet it now seemed perfectly acceptable to have both vying for her attention, never vain, always cautious, it provided her with balance, a kind of twisted reassurance that she was doing the right thing. Keeping up appearances, not falling too far for Nicole, as she so easily could do, knowing that would scare Nicole away faster than a scorpion. For the one thing she did know about Nicole was she didn't do conventional. Unconventional definitely, conventional definitely not. Even their first kiss was unconventional. Nicole lying ill, semi-delirious, risking their friendship in a moment when both their guards were down.

She wondered what would have happened if Nicole hadn't made the first move, seized the moment. She imagined they would have drifted along as friends, passions simmering under the surface, each cautious not to jeopardise what they had on the surface for what lay bubbling underneath. Or perhaps, one of them would have got drunk, Nicole most likely, and grabbed at the chance to steal something precious.

Isobel visited the first week in December, ever bubbly, impressed by the college, still as wicked in her observations of others. She announced over afternoon tea she was engaged to be married in the spring. She apologised for not having mentioned her beau before, hoping to be forgiven, asking Waverly to be her maid of honour, a request politely accepted. "You know James is quite taken by you," Isobel said, placing her cup down. "He says you are quick to understand and pleasant company."