As soon as Jess closed the door behind her, Emily called out. “You’ve returned far earlier than we expected, little sister.”
When Jess rounded the corner, her sisters were all seated at the kitchen table, their cups of tea clasped in front of them, expectant looks on their faces.
“Where are Mac and Thaddeus?” Jess asked.
“They’re both on bedtime duty. We relegated them to reading Grimm’s to the girls.”
“Why? This feels like some sort of ambush.”
“Sit down, Jess. It’s not an ambush. We’re simply worried about your relationship with Mr. Morgan and what his intentions are.”
“My relationship with Mr. Morgan is none of your concern.”
“Jess, we know that he’s the first man you’ve ever truly shown an interest in,” said Vin.
Jess flashed her a warning look. She didn’t want their conversation about contraceptives and blackmail to provide even more fodder for their elder sisters.
Vin gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Letting her know her secrets were still safe.
“And he’s not what we imagined for you,” Emily clarified.
“I’m twenty-eight years of age and I know my own mind. While I appreciate your advice, I don’t require it. I don’t know how much Vin has told you, but Mr. Morgan and I have a bargain. Though it wasn’t one I made fully of my own volition, I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions. Whatever they may be.”
“I always thought you’d settle down with the vicar’s son once he returned from Cambridge. The two of you share a scientific bent of mind and he’s just as uncomfortable in social settings as you are.”
Jess took a deep breath so she wouldn’t say something in anger she’d be forced to regret at her leisure. When her sisters got their hackles up in her defense, as they were doing now, it felt more like intrusion than protection. She longed for Cece’s stalwart support, or for an adventure of her own to finally declare her independence in a way they couldn’t refute.
“Jonathan Trowbridge is a dour, gloomy mud puddle of a man. We have absolutely nothing in common. He is fascinated with igneous rock and volcanoes, and my interests lie in cataloging the insect world. He hates social functions because he thinks he’s above them. I detest social functions because I often feel they are a waste of precious time filled with nothing but silly gossip.”
Arie and Fran exchanged a glance and Jess wanted to skewer them. She knew what that shared amusement meant. That they found her naive. “Why don’t you spend more time on these two?” She asked as she gestured toward Vin and Emily. “In case you haven’t noticed, they are more firmly on the shelf than I am and show no inclination to settle down.”
“Their day of reckoning will soon be at hand. They are not currently the object of my concern. You are. I will accept your assurance that I needn’t worry on your behalf, but I do so with reservations. I’ve been putting your welfare before my own most of my life, and it’s a habit I find difficult to break,” Arie said.
Jess took her eldest sister’s outstretched hands. “I understand. All of us appreciate the way you took care of us when mother died and father neglected us. But just as we told you when you insisted you needed to remain in your dead husband’s household - we all need to seek our own happiness and make our own mistakes. I want the chance to find my own way. Just as you and Fran have and just as Cece is doing.”
Her other sisters stood and each of them hugged her in turn.
“We’re sorry for making you feel like a rebellious child, Jess,” Fran apologized.
“And Emily and I are sorry for demanding an accountability we’re not entitled to,” Vin whispered into her ear as she hugged her.
Jess took a seat at the table with them after the embrace, and helped assign roles for the festivities that would begin in the morning.
Chapter Fourteen
Cadochadbeenloathto deposit Jess at her door because he knew he’d be returning to an empty house. It seemed even emptier with the reality of his actions looming over him like a guillotine. Every moment he spent with her forged a deeper connection. That hadn’t been the purpose of their wager. At least not the one he’d admitted to himself.
George had volunteered to take Caris and the children back to Wales for the holidays, and although he was taciturn company at best, he was company. Even the housekeeper, Mrs. Hopewell, was absent. She lived in the village and helped Caris with the housework and the cooking. She was usually humming somewhere in the house from dawn until dusk. She’d informed him that morning that she wouldn’t be returning until three days after Christmas.
He’d been the one to prepare the repast he’d shared with his guest, simple fare he’d mastered at the instruction of his mother. It had brought memories of her to the forefront, memories that were already there because of the holiday season. Even thoughthey’d never had flush pockets, his Mam had always managed to make the day special. One year it was a knitted cap she’d made each of them as she sat by the fire each night. Her hands busy even after a full twelve hour day at the mines. Another year she’d managed to procure a tin of chocolate and an orange. They’d doled it out in small portions after the lamb stew she’d made.
After he rubbed down Bacchus, he let himself in the kitchen door. The house closed in around him and he suddenly ached for the sound of voices and laughter. He lit one of the kerosene lamps on the kitchen sideboard and carried it into his library. He wanted to sleep on the divan there, instead of tossing and turning in his empty bed.
Here, when he closed his eyes, the faint scent of her filled his nostrils. Like the lilies that blanketed the valley behind the family cottage. Like spring and promises and all the things he’d spent his life trying to keep safe from the greed of other men.
Despite his dastardly demands, despite the bargain he’d forced her to accept, she and her family were welcoming him to their home for Christmas dinner on the morrow. He’d never felt so conflicted and so much like the epitome of the nickname she’d called him. Cad. He was treating her like a cad. Because he was both trying to repudiate the hold she had over him and clarify his own feelings. Though she hadn’t been the one to issue the invitation, she hadn’t rescinded it either. Even after his manipulation of her this evening.
He couldn’t help feeling a kinship with Scrooge, invited to the Cratchit family gathering in the spirit of beneficence, even though he’d done nothing to merit such an invitation.
