Her mother’s unsure gaze, her father’s confusion, Rosalie’s mother’s dismissal—they sear at her gut and clench at her heart. But even so, she still wants the opportunity to love Rosalie, really love her. To decide how to start a life and grow together. Live off in the country, run a home—like she would have with Mr.Dean.
The happiness her mother has with her father. The happiness Amalie and Christopher have. She and Rosalie deserve that too.
She wants her mother to visit. Wants her father to send her letters and keep exchanging novels. Wants to watch her brother meet Rosalie. Wants to watch Rosalie beat him at every card game imaginable.
She wants the life with her family she always thought she’d have. Just with a woman by her side instead of a man. Surely it’s not so much to ask.
Catherine sighs, resting her cheek on her knee to stare out at the rain.
She’s always quietly thought the happily-ever-afters in her novels were disingenuous. That there was too much tumult, too much to the story before the wedding, for everything to end in a sunnyhappily ever after.
She wanted to be the heroine of her own story. Maybe this is the price.
She turns her face into her knees and lets the tears come in full, sobbing until the pain dulls enough to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rosalie
Rosalie stands in her foyer, staring at Mother, Christopher, and Aunt Genevieve. Amalie wanted to come with them; Christopher tried to invite her for... more tea. But in the only words she’s spoken to them since the Upper Rooms, Mother said they needed to speak as a family on some matters, and Christopher could see her tomorrow.
Rosalie doesn’t know if she should be hopeful or terrified.
They’re all just standing there, slowly pulling off gloves in the most stifled silence she’s ever heard. Rosalie looks at each of them, not sure what to say, not sure what to ask for. She feels numb and frantic all at once.
Mother finally moves, heading for the stairs.
“No,” Aunt Genevieve says, her voice like a whipcrack.
Mother pauses and Rosalie takes her first deep breath since the cloakroom.
“We are talking about this. Family meeting, now.”
“Genevieve, this can wait until the—”
“FATHER,” Christopher bellows. Rosalie, Mother, and Aunt Genevieve jump. “You heard Aunt Genevieve,” Christopher says sternly. “Sitting room, now.”
Father appears in the hallway from his study, rubbing his hands together eagerly and yawning. He’s such a gossipmonger, even exhausted by the trip back from London.
Rosalie might vomit.
“What’s the news?” Father asks. “Did anyone choke this time? I hope it was Mr.Martin. He could use a good wallop on the back.”
Mother sighs gustily.Mr.Martin could use a good wallop, Rosalie thinks idly, swaying in place.
“We’ve important family matters to discuss, George,” Aunt Genevieve says, taking Rosalie’s hand. “Sitting room, now.”
Rosalie grips her hand, following her upstairs and toward the sitting room. She tries to keep herself calm, to hold on to Aunt Genevieve. If her parents—if this is—
The sitting room is dark and drafty. Christopher hurries to the fireplace and gets a fire going while Aunt Genevieve and Rosalie sit on one of the settees, Mother and Father settling on the other. They don’t need the staff for this. This is... private.
Christopher comes to sit on her other side. Rosalie wishes they’d gone upstairs to Mother’s drawing room so that she doesn’t need to stare at where she pushed Catherine up against the bookcases when they kissed for the first time.
“Do you want to start?” Aunt Genevieve asks softly.
Rosalie blinks. Father’s leaning in, his hands between his knees, expecting her to provide some salacious season gossip. By contrast, Mother’s almost leaning away from her, like she wants as much distance between them as she can get.
Rosalie opens her mouth, parched and horrified. She doesn’t know if she can tell him this—can rip his world apart like she’s clearly done to her mother. But Father just looks back at her, open and receptive.
