Half a Soul

There is an apocryphal story about fishes on the beach that has stayed with me my entire life. I do not remember where I first heard it, but I have always been able to recall it to mind with absolute clarity. It goes like this:

A great number of fish had washed up on the beach; there, they flip-flopped, gasping for breath. A little girl had taken it upon herself to walk up and down the beach, however, picking up fishes and throwing them back into the ocean. A bystander marvelled at this, and headed out to talk with her.

“Why are you throwing these fish back into the ocean?” he asked the little girl. “It won’t even matter, in the end. There are so many of them! You cannot possibly hope to save them all!”

The little girl frowned at the bystander and held up the fish that she currently had in her hands. “It matters to this fish,” she told him. And then, she turned herself back down the beach and stubbornly continued throwing fish back into the ocean.

The story normally ends there—but I like to think that the bystander then joined the little girl, and that a great deal more fishes were saved as a result.

I have often found myself in despair at how nonsensically awful other human beings can be. As much as we like to believe that we are capable of learning from history, I’m afraid that we are very prone to repeating the exact same mistakes as a society, time and time again. But every time I am confronted with some inescapable proof of the lowness of human nature, I am also reminded that I have within me the power to improve my own nature. There are plenty of fish upon the beach who would be grateful for a bit of kindness—and if you take the time to rescue even one, then perhaps you may even convince a bystander to join you and rescue another.

I do not mean to say that we should ever stop trying to solve the big problems in the world. But—as Elias would say—sometimes, when you cannot force the world to come to its senses, you must settle only for wiping away some of the small evils in front of you.

Every fish you throw back into the ocean is a triumph of the idea that human beings can be better. I do my best, every day, to throw at least one fish back into the ocean. I hope that you will join me.

The ton soon began to murmur that married life quite agreed with the Lord Sorcier; for while Elias would never be well-mannered, he was certainly distinctly happier. There were times, of course, when dark things threatened and great evils endangered his rest—but if he sometimes came home to sit awake in the dark, Dora always insisted at least on being with him.

Life after marriage was much different than Dora might ever have imagined. In fact, it was much better in nearly every possible way—but she suspected that had much to do with her choice of husband. As a married woman, she was far more free to spend her time as she pleased; and since she was of a mind with Elias on most things, he was only too happy to let her roll up her sleeves to help both Mrs Dun and the new orphanage. Most women of the nobility had only a few children, Dora liked to say—but she had very many, and she loved them all the same. And though it was rare for Dora to feel any sense of breathless joy, she carried with her always a soft, contented glow, rather like the star upon her finger.

Dora’s own wedding was small, but Lady Carroway insisted on hosting a brunch at Carroway House for her as well. Albert’s mother had not forgotten her plans to open another orphanage, and much of the morning’s conversation ended up scandalously centred around those plans, rather than around the weather or the wedding. Dora thought it was the perfect sort of brunch.

She considered for a moment. “I should rather ask if you are sure you will be pleased with me like this forever. I will never feel things quite as other people do.”

“Dora,” said Elias. “I am sure that your other half is very lovely. But I fell in love with you exactly as you are. And perhaps that is for the best—if you were suddenly twice as charming, then I should be utterly overwhelmed.” He curled his hand around hers, and she felt a pleasant tingle against her skin.

Dora looked down and saw that there was a silver ring against her finger, set with a single glimmering star.

Elias slid his fingers just beneath her chin and lifted her eyes to look at him. “You have yet to say yes, you frustrating woman,” he breathed. “Do not leave me in anticipation.”

Dora felt his breath along her cheek as he said the words. The whisper burrowed down beneath her skin, making her shiver.

Dora’s heart did a little flip. “Yes,” she whispered back softly.

Elias leaned down towards her. His lips brushed hers. The touch was so light, so painfully gentle, that Dora might not have believed it had happened at all except for the cascade of dizzying tingles it sent down her spine.

His thumb stroked down her jaw. His lips pressed just a bit harder, as though to test her reaction. Dora wound her arms around his neck in response, leaning up towards him. His body was warm; the heat of him melted through her completely, washing away any other awareness of the world around them.

For the rest of my life, this will be the dream in which I live, Dora thought. It was a blissful thought indeed.

“I am not certain what to say,” Elias admitted. “I am sure that I had words in mind, but they suddenly escape me.” His tone was nervous now, and Dora thought that very odd indeed, for a man who had just faced down the Marquess of Hollowvale in his own realm.

“You should say whatever you like,” Dora told him. “I am happy to see you. Surely, you know that the rest does not matter.”

Elias knitted his brow. “I do feel that it matters,” he said, and there was suddenly a note of contrariness to his voice. “One does not simply say let us go and get married, if you are amenable.”

“But you did say that.” Dora beamed gently at him. “And I was amenable. I still am.”

“Would you not argue with me for once?” Elias said with a flush. “Listen here, Miss Ettings! I am in love with you. You deserve to hear that. I love your wit and cleverness. I love that you are kind but almost never nice. I love your eyes and your hair and your freckles, and the fact that you smell like some monstrous floral perfume all of the time.” He paused, now looking somewhat offended at himself. “And I love to dance with you. That is the worst of it by far.”

Dora blinked slowly. Each word heated up her heart bit by bit until it was a bewildering bonfire. That fire burned its way down into her mind, consuming all of the ugly things that still lingered beneath its surface. When she was alone or tired or uncertain, Dora knew that these would be the words that came to her now instead of all those others, and she could not help but smile in a silly, dreamy way.

“And obviously,” Elias said with a huff, “I would like to marry you. I cannot say that I recommend myself very fondly, but I make the offer all the same.”

Dora reached up to pat at his cheek. “Then I shall recommend you instead,” she told him. “I already have, you know. I told Lord Blackthorn that I thought you were the most virtuous man in all of England.” She considered for a moment.

“Has the marquess ceased to be a problem, Dora?” she asked. “Do you think that you would marry Albert now? The two of you do seem to get along, and we would see so much more of one another that way.”

Dora shot her cousin a bemused look. “The marquess is no more,” she said. “And I may marry whom I like, as long as they do not mind marrying only half of me. I admit that I would consider marrying anyone if it gave me the chance to stay near to you. But I am already in love, and I suppose that I have already promised to marry someone else.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “You suppose?” she said. “And you are in love! Dora, why did you not say anything?”

“I did not know myself until most recently,” Dora said. “But perhaps it has all worked out for the best.” She paused uncertainly. “That is assuming that the man in question ever returns—”

A knock at the door interrupted that train of thought. Lady Carroway headed in looking very flustered, holding a vase of fresh white roses in her arms. There was something distinctly different about these flowers, however—and after a moment of looking at them, Dora realised that they sometimes looked more like mist than like roses. Those are from Hollowvale’s gardens, she thought.

“These are for you, Miss Ettings,” Lady Carroway told Dora. “I think they are to entice you downstairs.” She settled the flowers onto the dresser and shook her head with a smile. “The Lord Sorcier would like a private audience with you. We all know he is not here to ask about French translations. Should I have him wait downstairs while you dress, or turn him away in order to save his pride?”

Vanessa caught the implication in a moment, having just finished her own private audience with Edward only a few days prior. She let out a delighted little gasp and clapped her hands over her mouth.

For once, Dora felt a real smile spread across her face. “I will be down to see him as soon as I can,” she said.

Lady Carroway sighed at that, but there was a fondness in her expression. “We shall all depend on you to keep him in hand, Miss Ettings,” she said.

Vanessa hurried to help Dora get dressed. “We must have a maid do your hair and makeup—” she started, but Dora shook her head.

“I do not need either,” Dora said. “I know I do not seem happy, but I am. I would like to see him as soon as possible.”

“You really were in faerie?” Albert asked softly. “How strange that must have been.”

“No,” Dora murmured. “It was terribly familiar, in fact. I think that must have been the worst part, Mr Lowe.” But Dora laid her head back down upon the pillow, and suddenly could not stay awake for even a moment longer—she fell into a deep sleep once again.

As she slept, she dreamt of Hollowvale, with its broad ballrooms and misty gardens. Dora wandered the halls of Charity House and found them much-changed; the few children that remained there ran about shrieking with cheerful laughter, building forts from the furniture and playing hide-and-seek.

A bubble of joy grew within her chest as she watched them, and she knew that she had no regrets.

Dora found herself plied with plenty of food and liquids and then shoved unceremoniously back into bed “to rest.”

“But I have already been sleeping, haven’t I?” she asked.

“You have been sleeping without proper fuel,” Albert told her seriously. “Now you must give your body a chance to use what you have given it.” Abigail, for her part, had already fallen right back asleep, and Dora had to admit that there was some small amount of logic to the idea.

“I will release your strand,” Theodora said to Dora. Great tears trickled down her face, displaying the grief that Dora knew she truly felt. “And all of the children who still live. The others shall be loved and taken care of, for as long as they desire to stay.”

Dora nodded listlessly. “You have taken the harder path,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“It is not so hard,” Theodora said with a sob. “We are closer than ever. As long as you are content, I shall be happy too. So you must do your best on that score, please.”

Elias hurried towards them both with horror still evident on his face. He grabbed at Dora, who was still covered in blood. “What have you done?” he whispered to her. “What have you done, Dora? You will never be whole again.”

Dora smiled wanly at him. “You spent so long trying to save all of those children, only to feel like you were killing them yourself. Neither of us could bear that thought. Just this once, you must let me help you, since it was in my power to do so.” She met his eyes again. “This is my small evil to vanquish, Elias.”