“His circumstances have changed,” added Mama. “We would never have supported the match had we known his family was destitute.”
“I have already pledged my heart to him,” whispered Thea, her spine straightening. “There is no undoing the match now.”
“Engagements can be easily undone,” said Mama with a dismissive wave. “Once the extent of his ruination is known, no one will expect you to go through with the marriage.”
“We are not engaged, but I love him,” she replied.
Mama huffed. “Then all the better. Sentiments are not legally binding, so Mr. Voss cannot claim you have broken faith.”
“Does loyalty mean nothing?” whispered Thea. “But then, I suppose that as long as money is involved, it is entirely acceptable to be self-serving.”
“This isn’t merely a bit of money,” said Mama, coming over to take the chair beside her. “This is a decision that will impact the entire family. Your choice reflects on us and your siblings.”
“A fact that you were quite happy to exploit when the Vosses’ standing in the village outranked our own,” she replied in a low voice.
“As anyone with sense would—”
“Enough.” Papa’s voice cracked through the air, silencing both mother and daughter as their attention turned back to the once-silent observer. “Though I disagree with her reasoning, your mother is correct in this. You will end the attachment. Immediately.”
Chapter 25
Thea met Papa’s eyes, that hollow stillness within her hardening into something solid. “He has already ended it.”
Straightening, his brows rose, but it was Mama who spoke.
“Oh,” she breathed, a smile on her lips. “Well, that is something, at least. Sensible of him, though it must have been painful. You see, dear? This is the better course, and you will thank him when you are comfortably settled in a proper home of your own, your children amply clothed and fed.”
Thea shook her head slowly. “I said he ended it. I did not say I accept it.”
“Thea,” Papa warned, his tone flat, final. “You will not pursue him. The matter is finished.”
“No,” she said, the word breaking from her before she could stop it. “It isn’t. I shan’t give him up.”
Mama let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “You are being ridiculous!”
“Perhaps,” Thea said, her voice steady now, her pulse pounding in her ears. “But I love him. And I would rather be ridiculous than faithless.”
“This is your livelihood, Thea. Just as I would not allow my sons to choose useless professions, I will not allow my daughtersto throw themselves after men who are unable to provide for them.” Papa exhaled, long and weary, and leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms. “Be sensible. Affection is well and good, but it cannot keep a roof over your head or food on the table. Mr. Voss is bankrupt. Penniless. Without a home or income. How can he possibly provide for you?”
“He will find a way,” Thea said, lifting her chin. “Frederick is capable and industrious. Rather than avoiding his responsibilities, he is doing his utmost to find a new path in the world, and I know he will succeed.”
“By being a clerk?” said Papa, his frown deepening. “There are few of those positions nearby, and even if he can secure a reputable one, it will be years—decades, even—before he can provide for a wife. If ever.”
“Better to wait than to cast him off when he needs me most,” Thea said, her voice trembling despite herself.
“You have no idea what you are saying,” said Mama, rising to her feet and pacing to the fireplace.
“Mrs. Keats,” chided Papa, though his eyes never left Thea, and for a fleeting instant, something shifted in his gaze, breaking through the wall that stood between him and the world; she couldn’t name the emotion, no matter how she tried, but the sight of it unsettled her more than any raised voice or threat, for it hinted at depths she had never seen before.
With that impenetrable stare, he said, “Consider this: you do not have the skills to survive such a life. You cannot cook or clean, and although you embroider beautifully, you do not know how to make clothes for yourself or your children. You cannot even light a fire or boil a teakettle. How can you possibly manage?”
Thea’s lips parted, but no answer came. Something in the words felt familiar. Had Frederick said something of that sort? In truth, she couldn’t recall his arguments clearly as herattention had been fixed upon her own more than his, but as her father’s voice filled the room, she heard echoes of Frederick’s concerns.
Looking down at her smooth and uncalloused hands, the full shape of Frederick’s future began to form in her mind. Labor wasn’t a frightening thing—difficulties and strain were a part of life—but no amount of determination could make up for a lack of training. How could a pampered young lady manage in that world? Surely boiling a teakettle wasn’t a monumental effort, but nothing about her education and upbringing had prepared her for the practicalities of living in any class but her own.
“That may be, but I wish to try. I will not turn my back on him,” whispered Thea.
Silence fell, thick and impenetrable. Papa’s mouth tightened, and Mama’s eyes glistened with hot tears, but Thea straightened as the decision settled like a cloak about her shoulders; for the first time since that terrible moment beneath the tree, she felt a flicker of hope cutting through the haze of grief.
