Re: London, Murray House, Mina & Vanessa
Mina did not question how she knew her childhood companion would be garbed in black. She simply knew, and she was not surprised at Vanessa's appearance in the doorway, though perhaps reason dictated that she should be surprised, having not truly seen her friend since friendship ceased. But she knew these things, and she was not taken aback by the sharp lines of cheeks and age that seemed far greater than her own in the unforgiving dark fabric. Striking. She was sure that was what the men of London thought Vanessa. All doubtless enchanted, as Mina herself had been on that seashore of her innocence. Then, Vanessa had been something wild and bold, but not something to be wary of. Then things had changed, and Mina had learned that friendship did not prevent all things.
She was at the window in her pallor and innocent shades, Mina, and she turned in the sunlight and smiled at her once beloved. Like the smiles of their parents, childhood and over a dinner table where secrets were known and religion was avoided. It was a sweet smile, Mina's. Sweet and harmless and as bright as the sunlight streaming through that front window of the sitting room.
Yet, there was no warmth to it.
If Vanessa did not trust, then their footing was even, for neither did Mina trust.
"Vanessa," Mina finally greeted, polite and she crossed the room with arms extended, hands open to clench those of the room's darkling, and Darkling──I listen. She took the fingers of the other woman and squeezed them with light politeness and warm fingertips that were not chilled by a deathly cold. Warm fingertips, and a feather press of kiss to cheek, and Mina stepped back with the lightest bit of scent of rose and peppermint surrounding her. No gravedirt clung. No rot lingered.
She said nothing more, and like the question silenced on her lips about the doorman, it was deliberate. For all her meek timidity, she had never been one made of chatter. Of sweetness, yes, but not of idle loudness, and this was no great difference in the fair girl who drew the sun's rays from the window as if she were a magnet for warmth and goodness.
But she was older now, and the innocence of carefree youth was surely gone from the girl who stood and waited with the polite decorum of one accustomed to introductions in ballrooms and to maneuvering the game as society played it.