She had not felt so schoolgirlish as this in a long while, as though staying up at the school had sent her back years to a time when fluttery feelings in her chest made any sense at all. She felt as shy and as brazen as a child, as if she could possibly be both at once - or perhaps just a jumbled mess, like someone had picked her up, shaken her and set her down all askew.
It was not a feeling remedied by Miss Sykes’ hand on hers. Not that she was complaining.
She had been asking for this, she supposed, tempting fate with her talk and her thoughts and her touching - though dear Miss Sykes could not fathom how she was torturing her. And of course Carmelina had expected no different in the matron’s response to her observation, but there was a whorl of disappointment in her gut all the same at the notion of the evening coming to an end. Or, rather, this evening stroll. She fancied the past fraction of it had been worth more than the rest of the night put together, and she knew that was entirely impracticable, building up things in her head to dwell on them without good reason. How would she ever sleep if she let herself get this carried away?
Nonetheless, she was grateful for Miss Sykes’ friendship, pleased for a little like-minded company, and there was no harm in that, Carmelina told herself. “You won’t at least let me walk you to your door?” She said, couching the thought in a teasing air, in some kind of imitation of an anxious gentleman, even as she stepped back. No doubt Miss Sykes would want to be rid of her sooner rather than later, lest she keep the matron from her bed.
It was not a feeling remedied by Miss Sykes’ hand on hers. Not that she was complaining.
She had been asking for this, she supposed, tempting fate with her talk and her thoughts and her touching - though dear Miss Sykes could not fathom how she was torturing her. And of course Carmelina had expected no different in the matron’s response to her observation, but there was a whorl of disappointment in her gut all the same at the notion of the evening coming to an end. Or, rather, this evening stroll. She fancied the past fraction of it had been worth more than the rest of the night put together, and she knew that was entirely impracticable, building up things in her head to dwell on them without good reason. How would she ever sleep if she let herself get this carried away?
Nonetheless, she was grateful for Miss Sykes’ friendship, pleased for a little like-minded company, and there was no harm in that, Carmelina told herself. “You won’t at least let me walk you to your door?” She said, couching the thought in a teasing air, in some kind of imitation of an anxious gentleman, even as she stepped back. No doubt Miss Sykes would want to be rid of her sooner rather than later, lest she keep the matron from her bed.
