She couldn’t hide it. She nodded and dropped her teacup onto its saucer with a clatter, spilling its contents everywhere. Evelyn ignored the mess and put her hand over her daughter’s trembling one.
“Why ever for, dear?”
Rose could only shake her head as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Oh, my dear girl, you have such a soft heart.”
“All those poor men,” Rose said at last, needing to relate something of what she was feeling, needing to feel comforted by her mother.
Sure enough, Evelyn put her arms around her youngest daughter.
“I hope it was quick for them,” her mother said. “They are buried at sea under God’s watchful eye. And their families will remember them, every one of them. There will be a memorial service, it says in the paper. Next Sunday. We can go if you wish.”
Rose nodded. Yes, she would remember Phineas Bennet every day that she lived.
Had he died resenting her for not telling her family about him?
Had he died wishing they’d consummated their marriage?
Had he died loving her?
