“I know,” she lied.
“I will always be a part of your household, as long as you’ll have me.” He stared into her eyes. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” she repeated, her throat growing tight. Because he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have to be chained to her forever, looking after her. She wasn’t truly his stepdaughter, and that wasn’t his job. And it certainly was not what her father would’ve wanted.
Pena gritted his teeth. “I promise, Isabelle. I failed him, but I will not fail you.”
“You didn’t fail him. He made his own choices, refused to listen to the doctors, worked when he should have rested.” She shook her head, even as the older man scoffed. “But in these matters, I am in the best position to protect us all. I know what I am doing.”
“Right. You and only you know best and have everything under control. Just like him.” He dropped her hand and stalked away, staring out the window as the first hints of sun rose over the horizon.
“I do.” She laid a hand on her sheath. “And if you think that display was good, you know I’m better with a dagger.”
“Naturally. But you chose swords, so you’ll live with them, whether you prefer them or not.” He strode over to his weapons, taking them up once more. “Now let’s do this again, as I’m not changing your mind about anything and you won’t stop until you collapse.”
Isabelle’s eyelids drooped as she settled on the paisley silk fainting couch next to Rebecca later that morning. She yawned as she took a long swig of coffee. Delicious. Her friend slurped her own and stuffed a raisin-filled bun into her mouth.
Her grandmother sat in a high-backed armchair, legs crossed, sipping tea, eyes as sharp as a falcon’s—today’s cane topper.
“So last night went very well.” She held out a newspaper. “We made the gentile gossip pages—well, you did, Isabelle. Not by name, of course, but by description.”
“My mother will be quite disappointed. I mean, that’s what she always dreamed for me—being referred to as an ‘elegant Jewess’ in a goyishe scandal sheet—right after I give her grandchildren.” Rebecca’s lip twitched. “It’s a very common goal. And not condescending or offensive in any way.”
“Are you quite finished?” Her grandmother stirred her tea and continued without waiting for a response. “While it might seem silly, these people do hold our futures in their hands, and staying in their good graces, taking what is meant as a compliment as such, benefits all of us. My late son and Sussex enjoyed each other’s company, but there’s a difference between having a Jewish friend and sincerely advocating for the entire community, seeing us all as people, and not just their special exceptions. So if we attract more gentiles to the next festival, it’s important to be prepared.”
“Better start stretching now so you can bend and grovel with even more ease.” Her friend sniffed into her cup. Isabelle sucked in her lips so as not to giggle.
“We didn’t design this world and its hierarchies.” Her grandmother tucked a loose curl beneath her lace cap. “There’s nothing wrong with acting accordingly if it will be to our long-term benefit, allowing us not only to be permitted to stay here—never a guarantee—but to thrive. Respectability has been the tool that’s yielded us the most rights in this society.” Her fingers gripped the handle of her porcelain teacup so tight it was a wonder it didn’t crumble.
“And privileges.” Rebecca near sneered the word.
“And privileges.” Her grandmother set her saucer down with a loud clank. “Which we are entitled to as much as anyone else. My husband and I might not have been born here, but we contributed. As did my son. As do all of us. Leghorn’s loss has been England’s gain. We should not only be allowed to live here but to have a say.” She wagged a finger at Rebecca. “We’re better as part of their circle than living in an entirely parallel sphere, only to interact for business purposes.”
“You mean our wealthy living among their wealthy, adopting their values and hierarchies until they figure out new ones so their top tier can exclude ours again? Or decide that wealth and titles are the root of all evil? Then their association with just a few of us will give them better justification to take everything away again. Or worse, regard it as proof we are the monsters their fairy stories and church sermons make us out to be.” Rebecca took a large bite of toast. “But only after we abandon our own community, so we’ll have nowhere to go back to. We’ll be divergent and alone, more vulnerable than ever to their more violent whims.”
“That’s rather cynical. Besides, we’d never abandon our community—it’s who we are.” Isabelle took another sip of coffee. “As for the rest, I think they’re too enamored with the idea of noble blood and titles to ever truly declare them evil. Yes, perhaps including us will cheapen certain privileges in their eyes, but maybe that’s the first step to extending rights to more people. Like Catholics gaining rights can be the first step to our rights. When we succeed, we can build something new, where everyone is permitted to be who they are, but with full participation and equality.”
“You’d be happy in this Eden, even not being on top of the heap?” Rebecca arched a light brown eyebrow. “With real equality, not just our leaders being equal? Well, almost, as even if we had the numbers, or more, especially if we did, they’d never truly grant us that much power—with theirs?”
“Even when everyone has equal opportunities, leaders are needed to ensure it,” her grandmother retorted before Isabelle could respond. “And certain people were born to lead, no matter who they are or where they come from, provided they have equal access.” She gave a pointed smile in Isabelle’s direction.
Which she returned—as best as she could. Because more responsibility and pressure, that was exactly what she needed.
“Which brings us to your next steps, your future partner,” her grandmother continued. “Speaking of which, it seems Solomon Weiss has captured your attention.” She sniffed a little. “Be careful with that boy. His family all but left the community, so while their appearance was not unexpected, given the political pull of the gentiles present, his interest in you certainly is.”
“Perhaps I am truly irresistible,” Isabelle muttered. “Besides, I had the situation under control. And he’s twenty-six, so hardly a boy. He’s probably just spoiled and used to getting what he wants.”
“Shall I direct you to a mirror?” Rebecca smirked and Isabelle rolled her eyes. Not that there wasn’t truth in her statement. The question was who would be in charge of whom if two such people joined.
“I suppose he is rumored to be intelligent and certainly fine to view,” her friend said. “Important since that’s been added to your husband criteria.”
“He might well be the correct choice. I’m just advising you to be mindful of what you are doing with him, so it is still a choice, not a compromise to save face,” her grandmother said, stirring her tea once more. “Especially if you permit him to guide you over to fainting couches.”
“I’m always careful with my face, but duly noted.” Isabelle sighed.
“What is it?” Rebecca scooted forward in her chair, inspecting her as she struggled to articulate the odd, disquieted gnawing which had taken root in her ribs.
She bit her lip. “Do you think Weiss likes me?”
