The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern [125]
“You can’t possibly be serious,” she says with a yawn.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’ll write when I can. Tell them not to worry about me.”
“Bailey, go back to bed.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed, Caroline? You look like you could use some more beauty rest.”
In response, Caroline only twists her face up in a sneer.
“Besides,” Bailey continues, “when have you ever cared what I do?”
“You have been acting like a baby all week,” Caroline says, raising her voice but keeping it a hissing whisper. “Playing at that stupid circus, staying out all night. Grow up, Bailey.”
“That is precisely what I’m doing,” Bailey says. “I don’t care if you don’t understand that. Staying here won’t make me happy. It will make you happy because you are insipid and boring, and an insipid, boring life is enough for you. It’s not enough for me. It will never be enough for me. So I’m leaving. Do me a favor and marry someone who will take decent care of the sheep.”
He takes an apple from the bowl and tosses it in the air, catching it and tucking it in his bag before he bids Caroline goodbye with a cheerful wave and nothing more.
He leaves her standing by the table with her mouth opening and closing in silent rage as he closes the door quietly behind him.
Bailey walks away from the house buzzing with energy. He almost expects Caroline to come after him, or to immediately wake their parents and alert them to his departure. But with each step he takes away from the house it becomes more clear that he is truly leaving, with nothing left to stop him.
The walk feels longer in the stillness of the night, no crowds of people heading to the circus along his route as there have been every other evening, when he raced to arrive before the opening of the gates.
The stars are still out when Bailey reaches his oak tree, his bag slung over his shoulder. He is later than he’d wanted to be, though dawn is some time away.
But beneath the starry sky, the field that stretches out below his tree is empty, as though nothing has ever occupied the space but grass and leaves and fog.
Retrospect
LONDON, NOVEMBER 1, 1901
The man in the grey suit slips easily through the crowd of circus patrons. They step out of the way without even considering the movement, parting like water as he heads toward the gates.
The figure that blocks his path near the edge of the courtyard is transparent, appearing like a mirage in the glow of the bonfire and the gently swaying paper lanterns. The man in the grey suit halts, though he could easily continue on through his colleague’s apparition unimpeded.
“Interesting evening, isn’t it?” Hector asks him, drawing curious stares from the nearby patrons.
The man in the grey suit subtly moves the fingers of one gloved hand, as though turning the page of a book, and the staring ceases, curious eyes becoming unfocused, their attention drawn to other sights.
The crowd continues by, moving to and from the gates without noticing either gentleman.
“It’s not worth the bother,” Hector scoffs. “Half these people expect to see a ghost around every corner.”
“This has gotten out of hand,” the man in the grey suit says. “This venue was always too exposed.”
“That’s what makes it fun,” Hector says, waving an arm over the crowd. His hand passes through a woman’s shoulder and she turns, surprised, but continues walking when she sees nothing. “Did you not use enough of your concealment techniques, even after ingratiating yourself with Chandresh to control the venue?”
“I control nothing,” the man in the grey suit says. “I established a protocol of secrecy disguised as an air of mystery. My counsel is the reason this venue moves from location to location unannounced. It benefits both players.”
“It keeps them apart. If you’d put them together properly from the beginning, she would have broken him years ago.”
“Has your current state made you blind? You were a fool to trap yourself like that, and you are a fool if you cannot see that they are each besotted with the other. If they had not been kept apart it simply would have happened