Free William by Claire Cray Page B

your
eyes."
    "There's blue in them," I said, which sounded
so childishly simple I almost laughed at myself, explaining, "I
didn't know the color would change so distinctly."
    "There was always a little blue in your
eyes." Merrick seemed somewhat surprised that I had not known this.
"But it does stand out now. And so do you, I'm afraid." His eyes
moved over my suit again, quite pleasantly. "You will attract
attention."
    "Surely you jest.” I gave him a look, for
which of the two of us really had the elegant good looks, the
otherworldly charm, the aura of wisdom and mystery? But I wasn't
going to stand there in the study and debate which of us was more
worthy of public interest, for heaven's sake. "Well," I said,
changing direction. "Shall we, then?"
    We stepped out into a flurry of life, and for
a moment I was dumbstruck on the portico as Merrick closed the door
behind us. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder, and he leaned to
speak beside my ear. "Don't be alarmed if things are not as you
remember."
    "Nothing is as I remember."
    "Well, first you must learn this." He took a
step down to stand beside me and look me in the eye. "We do well
not to be noticed, remembered or mentioned. We do well not to be
seen by the same person twice."
    "That seems rather difficult."
    "It must be learned and practiced." Merrick
stepped down from the portico, inviting me to follow with his eyes,
and then we were on the street. An impressive street, I thought,
with neat stone paths on either side for walking—quite a city,
Boston. I hadn’t expected to find much more of note than the
prestige of its Revolutionary legacy, but I supposed it did compare
to my New York.
    "How long has it been since you visited?" I
asked as we headed up Marlborough Street.
    "Not since I arrived from Europe. Much has
changed since then. The speed of progress in this age is
tremendous."
    "Oh, we are on the cusp," I agreed heartily.
"All this steam and steel. Though I hoped the printed word would
rule the age for a few generations yet. But industry is always our
king, I suppose."
    "Yes, but the rise in literacy will have its
effects, I believe. The Millennium has yet to arrive, after
all."
    I laughed, surprised. "Are you waiting for
the Millennium too, then?"
    Merrick smiled. "No. But the world certainly
is on the cusp. The last of the Old World is disappearing before
our eyes. I don’t suppose there’s been such a chasm between the
past and future since the fall of Rome."
    "What an exciting time," I said with great
satisfaction.
    "Indeed," Merrick murmured, glancing at me,
and I put my hands in my pockets to refrain from reaching for him.
I wished we could go arm in arm, hand in hand, cheek to cheek,
chest to chest! Now the longing reared its head like a dragon
awoken from slumber. Why hadn’t I kept him in the bedroom? It would
drive me crazy before long, desiring him while I had him so
close.
    But then, not even the most passionate
embrace could come close to venting my extreme happiness. Strolling
through Boston with Merrick, talking history, talking life! It was
enough to make my head spin. No, indeed, there wasn’t much to do
but to take the moments as they came, for each was turning out to
be as thrilling as the next.
    My attention drifted to a striking man coming
out of a tavern with a pamphlet in hand. He was smoking a pipe as
he squinted to read the contents under the dim light of the lantern
outside, and he had the look of a poet about him—dark tousled hair,
a high collar and cravat, the modern dark suit and boots favored by
traveling aesthetes of a certain artistic bent.
    What a pleasant thing he was to look at.
Every twitch of his brow, every purse of his lips and shift of his
shoulders was distinctly curious to me. I felt I could watch him
for a long time yet, but all too quickly he was out of sight.
    Not a minute later my glance landed on an
older man about to pass us by. He was clearly a man of the sea,
grizzled and weathered and sharp of eye. No