The Girl Underground

Chapter 9: We Dance into the Lonely Hours

Chapter 9: We Dance into the Lonely Hours

Malia felt as though she had blinked and the next day had arrived. The seconds ticked by too quickly, and the hours seemed to speed on without allowing her the chance to breathe before the next one came. She thought moving slowly would make time see sense, but no such luck.

She had not yet made up her mind. To meet the Magistrate or not, to go dive into the deep, dark void of sin or to not? To possibly break a otherwise good man's heart by reminding him of the reality of their situation, as if he didn't already know... As if it mattered at all to him.

He was married. He had children! And yet he pursued Malia as if these things didn't matter.

What do you want?

She thought of what Brandon had said about choices, and how they were like rivers. Everyone made different choices, like the water of the river flowed differently every time it came around. But she knew that everyone with half a mind for morality thought a man betraying his wife-however horrid a wife-was a bad thing to do. Malia would not be exempt from the punishment that was to follow, she knew this.

'I will not deny my heart. No matter what the cost, Malia, no matter what the sacrifice... I will not...'

The feeling of his hand on her face sent shivers up her spine. She knew she wanted to feel his touch again.

"God, I hardly even know him!"

"Know who?"

Malia frowned up at Jane, who was watching her with an odd look. The servants were lazing about, finding odd chores here and there to complete, and as of the moment, there was nothing specific for Malia or Jane to do.

"No one," Malia said quickly. "I was just thinking aloud is all."

"You know," Jane leaned forward. "You never did say what the Magistrate wanted with you in the market."

"Really?" Malia felt her gut churn. "Rather odd, I thought I did. He just wanted me to... Well, he had something he wanted me to say to Mr. Boatwright. A message."

"Something he couldn't say in front of me?"

"Apparently not," Malia said, hating herself for lying to her friend. "He said to take the message straight to Mr. Boatwright and tell no one else."

Oddly, Jane seemed to buy it. "Well then I won't ask."

"Thank you."

"But the Magistrate seems like a handsome bloke, eh?" Jane's eyes flashed with an odd glint. "Rather easy on the eyes up close to be sure. And his daughter is a sweet little thing! But the Magistrate is indeed handsome, for an older man."

"I..." Malia cleared her throat, not knowing what to say. What if she agreed? Would that make it too obvious? "I suppose..."

"Not that he is old old," Jane continued. "I should think he's about the age of Mr. Boatwright, give or take a handful of years or so younger perhaps. But just to have him in the room either scares the wits out of you or leaves you breathless."

Malia said nothing to that... Because, again, she agreed.

"I will say this, Abigail is a lucky woman," Jane snorted. "She always has a foul look on her face, but to have a husband John Quincy is an achievement."

One she doesn't deserve...

"I don't suppose they're made for each other?"

"What do you mean?"