Rosalie smiles up at her. Christopher pulls her backward until they’re slumped against the back of the settee, and they listen exhaustedly as Mother and Aunt Genevieve begin a rapid discussion of furniture, annual events, and décor. Father smiles at them and gets up to fill his pipe.
Rosalie sniffles against Christopher’s shoulder. She didn’t know the pain of what could have been would be as fierce as the excitement for what will be. That learning she and Mother could have celebrated knowing they were alike in this way wouldhurt. Everything is a messy ball of joy and sadness in her head.
“You think she’ll want the blue room or the yellow?” Christopher wonders. Rosalie nudges his chin in question. “You’ll have a wing at Aunt Genevieve’s. Does Catherine like blue or yellow more?”
Rosalie smiles despite the tumult of emotions coursing through her. “The yellow,” she whispers.
Once she stops crying, she knows she’ll be desperate to see Catherine again. To get to spend a life with Catherine. To see her face as they explore Aunt Genevieve’s estate. As they build a beautiful future together.
But for now, she’s going to let herself doze against Christopher’s shoulder while her mother and aunt argue over drapes. It turns out getting everything you’ve always wanted feels suspiciously like falling and flying all at once.
Chapter Thirty
Catherine
Sunlight filters in through the crack in the curtains, and Catherine turns her face into her pillow. Even a bright, sunny day cannot fix what’s been broken. The pain of yesterday still flares hard against her chest and all she wants to do is lie in her bed until darkness takes over again.
“You will not!”
Catherine squints toward the door, muted yelling finally permeating her bubble of sadness. What on earth?
She shuffles out of bed, pulling her dressing gown over her chemise. She hurries down the stairs, tying her robe and running an anxious hand through her hair. Are her parents fighting about her? Has Father decided he’s on her side? Does Mother want her out of the house? Will they ever let her see Rosalie again?
“Will you stop insisting you’re right for two blasted seconds?”
“Not if you’re just going to insist they stay here!”
That’s not Father’s voice. Nor MissTeit’s. The screaming keeps going, melding into a muddied furor until she hits the final landing, staring down the staircase into their bustling and crowded foyer.
The entire Tisend family stands there in jackets and bonnets and pelisses. Her mother and Lady Tisend are circling each other in the middle of the room, still shouting at each other,while Christopher, Father, Lord Tisend, and Lady Jones linger to the side, watching.
“Genevieve has an entire wing for them, and they can live there for as long as they want until Christopher inherits,” Lady Tisend shouts.
“Longer, if they want,” Lady Jones puts in.
Both Mother and Lady Tisend glare at her and she holds up her hands.
“Staying in Bath will be far less conspicuous than up and leaving together after the mess they’ve made with Mr.Dean!” Mother insists.
Lord Tisend and Father exchange a look, both slightly amused and a little frightened. Of course, Christopher’s just grinning like it’s allfunnysomehow.
No one has noticed her yet. No one has told her anything. No one came to wake her so she could be part of this yelling match. No one has bothered to ask her anything.
Does no one care how she feels about having her life decided?
“You are doing it again,” Mother yells.
“Doing what?” Lady Tisend yells back.
“Declaring what you feel is proper for my family without even asking. You haven’t the right—”
“The only right answer is for the girls to go north with Genevieve, so neither of them has to live the same scandal—”
“Thatyouput me through! It’s entirely proper for them to live at home. I don’t know why you’re so eager to send your daughter away—”
“I am not eager for her to leave!” Lady Tisend shouts. “I’m not,” she adds, looking toward the door, where Catherine finally notices Rosalie hovering uneasily in the shadow of the large vase they keep to the side of the entry, watching the exchange withwide eyes. She’s holding her bonnet, worrying it with anxious fingers.
As if she can feel Catherine’s gaze, Rosalie looks up. The moment she sees Catherine, her face lights up, eyes hopeful, cheeks lifting. Catherine’s just in her robe and chemise, her hair probably still messy from sleep, but she feels beautiful under Rosalie’s gaze.
