#beatrich

"I know." 

I was very comfortable next to her on the settee. Her closeness did not bother me, in fact, I welcomed it. I had gone too long with only one person for company. It felt entirely natural that my head should come to her shoulder; that her hand, after brushing a loose thread off my dressing gown, should come to rest just above my knee. 

"Before it all came apart," I said, "when we had just met... I often wished that we could be closer." 

"So did I."

"But even before... I thought myself so very inferior I could not have confided in you. And then when they found her, when Maxim – well after that it was impossible." I drew back for a moment to find her looking at me. Her face was soft, so much easier to read than her brother's. There was no difficulty in taking her hand and raising it to my lips, in pressing a kiss into her open palm. "I do not think that way now."

“Hello?” Beatrice’s voice startled me. I had missed the click of the line connecting.

“Hello,” I said. “It’s me.”

“Oh!” Even like this I could hear the genuine delight in her voice. I smiled to myself, picturing her leaning closer to the phone. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” I hadn’t thought of anything to say, or a reason to have called. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”