“If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.”
George Eliot, Middlemarch
Chapter Four
“I thought I was a rational man,” I said.
Danny didn’t even turn. So I watched him, waiting to see if my words had landed anywhere at all. I wanted him to say yes. To say I was rational. That I was sound. That I was clinging to nothing more than a foolish notion. A stupid superstition. A trick of the light, leaving an afterimage behind my eyes. Something that would pass. Something I wouldn’t have to carry. God, I had no wish to add anything new to what I already bore.
“I don’t know how you ever came to think that,” he said.
“Think what?”
“That you’re rational.”
A steamboat passed on the Thames, hissing and churning through water darkened by the clouds folded low above us. The sky looked intent on crushing us, or drowning us in rain.
“I am. I’ve always been rational.”
“Are you?”
“What could change in my life because of a dream like that? Nothing.”
Danny laughed and drew deep on his cigar, then blew the smoke back at me, scratching my nose with its dry, burning smell.
“You’re many things, young man. Rational isn’t one of them.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Look where we are,” he said, circling the cigar so the smoke wreathed his head. “A filthy tavern.”
“So what? It’s all we can afford.”
“We’re here because I like the place. And because you wanted me comfortable before bringing up something that makes you uneasy. Look at you. Perched on the edge of your chair, ready to bolt. Pale, even for you. Hair a mess. Eyes darting. You look older than you should. And that book…”
He nodded toward the volume I’d brought with me. A copy of Middlemarch. George Eliot.
“What? You don’t like it?”
“Did you really think you’d read it?”
He didn’t wait.
“You needed an anchor, Joe. Something to make you feel steady. Books do that for you, don’t they? Shelters. That little volume’s a friend you brought along for company. Same reason you brought me. The difference is, I’m not a book.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
He leaned closer. “You’re not rational. None of us are. We’re a muddle of certainty and mystery. In sleep, the mind doesn’t rest the way we think it does. What rests is the will. And that changes everything.”
The waiter brought what we’d ordered. I barely noticed him. I was watching Danny’s dark eyes, his face reddened by the morning cold, his lips dulled by cigar smoke. His hat still on his head, manners be damned. Danny wasn’t the sort to catch cold for the sake of politeness.
“Are you saying dreams aren’t just dreams?” I asked.
“I’m saying that when we sleep, we don’t become unconscious. We become defenseless.”
“Dreams aren’t real,” I said.
“Then why are you so… troubled?”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, you are, my proudly rational friend. You just reason the wrong way. You think things only exist if you can touch them, smell them.” He picked up a biscuit. “Eat them.”
I felt my jaw tighten. “That’s obvious.”
“This biscuit was just as real when I imagined it on my way here. Real enough to make my mouth water.”
I sighed without meaning to, a small cloud of steam escaping me.
“Still,” I said, “you need a biscuit you can touch to be fed.”
“And that,” he said, “is exactly what unsettles you.”
I looked at him again. He smiled.
“What you saw in your dream didn’t happen here, in our world. That doesn’t make it unreal.”
“What the hell are you saying, Danny?”
“Dreams belong neither to waking nor to deep sleep. They’re borderlands. And borderlands are always unstable.”
“I only wondered why I dreamed of a woman I don’t know at all.”
“You’re wondering why she unsettles you. That’s the truth.”
He brushed the crumbs from his coat. Fog and voices wrapped around us. I looked at my book’s cover. Then her face flared again in my mind. That woman. Hair catching the light like flame. Flame. Fire. I swallowed. And she even talked to me… asked me things. God, what was that?
“In any case, there’s nothing I can do,” I murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Nothing at all.”
I was about to stand when he stopped me.
“There’s a woman in London,” he said. “Mrs. Galbraith.”
“If she’s one of your girls—”
“No. This is something else entirely. To meet her, we’ll have to cross the city.”
“For what purpose?”
“To talk.”
“About?”
“Dreams.”
We stared at each other.
“You say you’re rational. Then prove it. Rational men explore unknown ground to understand it. So do it. Explore the territory.”
“And she can help me?”
Danny stood.
“Let’s go now and find out.”
He walked off without waiting. He knew I’d follow. Danny always set his bait carefully. God only knows why, even knowing what it was, I kept biting. I rose and caught up with him as he left coins for the waiter.
That’s when I noticed a man. Fine clothes. Aristocratic air. Haughty and imperious. English nobility. I’d met enough of his kind in my travels to know the type, even if only to serve them. To men like that, my middle-class clothes marked me at a glance. Useful, if nothing else. And by blood and bad luck, I owed my life in part to them.
“I paid this time,” Danny said.
Then he followed my gaze.
“That man?” he asked.
“Yeah. I wonder what he’s doing here.”
“Men like him know where real deals are made.”
“You know him?”
“His name’s Lord Cartwright.”
“Why here?”
“Because there are no rules here to bind certain decisions. They say he’s married. To a very beautiful young woman.”
“A love match?”
Danny laughed. “Men like that don’t marry for love. They sign contracts.”
He turned to go. I glanced back once more. Lord Cartwright was watching me.
Our eyes met.
I gave him a small nod. He did not return it.
To be continued…
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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three
It's official, Danny's my favorite.
Ooh is she traveling by time as well? It’s been a while since the beginning (and I read too many serials) so I am probably way off base.