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Delphinia musing

So could they be happy, now that Christoph was no longer in relationship with his mistress? Because there was a change in him. His blue eyes met her eyes with such crystalline clarity, a sort of glaring happiness when he looked at her. No man had ever looked at her with real love before, so she could not say if he were true.

Were those the doubts and questions she should be considering? Was her happiness dependent on what Christoph did or didn't feel? Being a woman, would her feelings naturally fall where they should fall over time, and she would experience a happy marriage? Perhaps a girl would have written her mother for advice, but Delphinia associated such an idea with deep discomfort. Her mother was much more like a friend's mother whom she saw occasionally. Her mother no doubt was like herself in keeping her thoughts her own. The trait had led to the two never having any kind of meaningful relationship. And her father. Any shade of suggestion that she should do otherwise but marry Christoph would be repellent to him.

It seemed any guide Delphinia might choose had too much interest in her situation to provide meaningful advice, would be too little interested in her personal business, or too much.

A knock at her door interrupted her musings. Grasping her pearl-handled cane Delphinia moved to answer.

Adelia stood in shadows, her hair fallen from its pins, or never pinned, her dress plain. Capturing the attention of her fiancee seemed last on her mind now, at least. From the look on her face Delphinia knew she would be able to put aside her own problems for a while and become absorbed in whatever Adelia wished to divulge about the innkeeper's son and her recent escapades.

"Well, dear, and it's been a month..."

"A month..." Delphinia repeated dumbly. "Oh, you don't mean..."

Adelia moved past her into the room and sank into in Delphinia's reading seat near the window. "I don't know, how soon can one tell? And I wonder how quickly...?"

"Hold off on this till Beatrice's brought the tea." Delphinia pulled the bell rope. "Where is your luggage? Has it yet arrived? And have you written your father? You know he must be deeply distressed by all that's passed."

"It should be here in a few days hence. In the meantime, we are of a size. Cannot I borrow some of your gowns?"

"You know you may. Adelia, older people have died over being stressed less than this. I must insist you pen a note to your father immediately. If you don't, I won't hear a word more about your trials, and I won't admit you to my room again."

Delphinia gestured to her writing desk, where lay a few pages of ivory paper and a white quill. The well was filled with Delphinia's preferred pink ink, but she was willing to sacrifice a few of her niceties to see Adelia complete her task. While she couldn't bear to contemplate Adelia's irresponsibility and immaturity, she felt the old workings of their friendship returning-- the responsible one, the wild one. As she sank onto her bed and watched Adelia write, she curved her hand across her pearly cane and wondered, do I want to reverse this? How can I?

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