She wanted Thaddeus.
“No,” she said aloud, the word strong and forceful and sure.
There was something new in the parlor again. This time, it was Priscilla. Taking over the reins of her life.
“No?” Her father reared back as if he’d never before been on the receiving end of the word. Perhaps he hadn’t.
It was time.
“No,” Priscilla repeated. “I’m not going with you.”
Not this time, not ever. Even if it meant giving up her inheritance. Even if it meant disappointing her father. Losing his respect. His love.
Grandmother turned to her in bewilderment. “No?”
“No,” Priscilla said again. The word was terrifying and freeing. No was final. Decision made.
“But,” Grandmother stammered. “Adventure…”
Priscilla touched her grandmother’s pale hand and gave a crooked smile. “We’ll always have Koffi.”
“Coffee?” Papa laughed as if the very idea was vulgar and naïve. “If you could taste the chai in India, you’d never—”
“Not ‘coffee,’” Priscilla said. “Koffi. The parrot you brought me from Africa.”
After Mama died.
“Did I?” His confusion gave way to amusement. “What a lark! I thought we’d lost that thing.”
Every bone in her body trembled with hurt and disappointment. That moment had been the biggest turning point in Priscilla’s life, and he didn’t even remember. His visit that year had been the one bright light in the spiraling darkness… and it hadn’t meant anything to him at all.
“Have a good trip,” she said, and meant it. She was glad he was leaving today. “I’ll be married by the time you reach India.”
“You’ll be what?” he said, perplexed. “I thought you said—”
“She has a suitor,” Grandmother said with pride. “A fine man who loves her.”
Priscilla looked at her in surprise. “How do you know he loves me?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Grandmother’s voice was gruff, but her gaze was tender. “And he keeps coming back.”
Papa frowned. “Do you need me to sign something?”
“I’m three-and-twenty,” she reminded him. She had her majority. What she wouldn’t have was the inheritance. “Don’t worry about the trust.”
“The…trust?” he echoed in bafflement.
Grandmother closed her eyes.
“The trust,” Priscilla repeated, lightheaded with something akin to panic. “The one you set up for me in case I was still unwed on my twenty-fifth birthday. Ten thousand pounds in my name.”
“I remember now.” Papa chuckled. “I’m glad you’ve brought some chap up to scratch. I meant to set aside that inheritance—”
“Just like you meant to leave her a dowry?” Grandmother snapped.
“I didn’t do that, either?” he asked in surprise. He sent them both an oh-well, what-can-you-do grin. “Of course any daughter of mine would be enchanting with or without a piece of paper.”
“It’s not a piece of paper,” Priscilla gritted out through clenched teeth. “A dowry is how a woman can influence her future. That inheritance was supposed to be my freedom. That money—”
