The starless sky was already changing from black to a dull gray by the time Hannah trudged through the alley and up the stairs to her and Tamar’s living quarters. Slumping onto the fainting couch, Hannah unbuttoned her cloak and threw it to the side, staring into the smoldering ashes of the dying fire.
She should get up and poke it. The day was about to begin and there was work to do. She might as well start.
Except her legs wouldn’t budge. No, try as she might, she could not force herself to stand and do what needed to be done.
“What’s the matter?” Her sister’s voice startled her, and Hannah glanced over her shoulder to find Tamar at the edge of the room, still in her night rail, feet bare, thick hair breaking loose from its braid.
“Nothing,” Hannah said quickly, rubbing her eyes. “I’m merely tired.” This time she managed to rise and grab the poker, turning the embers so once again they could have full heat.
“Not a surprise. You’ve been out all night,” Tamar said, taking a seat upon the couch. “A frequent occurrence for you as of late.” She tucked her legs beneath the hem of her gown and motioned to Hannah to join her.
With a sigh, Hannah retook her seat, staring again, now at the flames. “It won’t be anymore,” she said.
“What did you do?” her sister demanded, more than asked.
“What do you mean?” Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose before yawning. Oy, she did not need this discussion. Not now. Not ever.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Tamar glared at her. “You left him, didn’t you?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “There was no ‘leaving’ to be done. I wasn’t his wife. I merely put an end to our… what do the fancy set call ’em?” She frowned, searching her tired brain for the correct word.
What was the one? From that book her sister’d been reading? She patted around until her hand hit on it, under a cushion. She glanced at the spine. “Liaison.”
Tamar snorted. “You’re not fancy,” she said, taking the volume from her and tossing it on the table. “And even if you were, you know very well that the word is not apt regarding Mr. Weiss’s intention toward you.” Her sister wagged an accusatory finger at her. “I knew you were going to hurt him.”
Hannah pressed her fingers over her eyes, forcing back all the emotion that was fighting to overtake her. But she couldn’t let that happen. Not for Sol’s sake. Not for Tamar’s sake. She had to be strong. She forced down a breath and opened her eyes once again.
“I saved him,” she said, her voice shaking.
“From what?” Her sister put her hands on her hips.
Hannah pressed a fist to her mouth. “From ruining his chance at a good life, where he’ll be loved and adored and celebrated. Where he belongs.” It was whathe deserved. What being with her would prevent him from having. Her throat closed again.
“How do you know that’s what he wants?” her sister asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Hannah shrugged. “He was working toward that before I came along. Rubbing elbows with the big machers and the fancy gentile set alike, courting the likes of Isabelle Ellenberg.”
And soon, when he thought better of it, he’d pursue someone like Isabelle again. And one day, he’d realize that it was all for the best. Her chest ached so much that she had to press her hands against her ribs.
“And yet the moment you came along, he spent most of his time finding ways to get into our rooms instead. What does that tell you?” her sister asked, unable to take a hint.
“That he enjoyed taking me to bed?” With a huff, Hannah rose and moved to the curtains, fiddling with the ties.
Tamar glared at her. “I’m not going to even dignify that with a response.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I made quite sure he’d not come round again,” Hannah told her before grabbing the broom and beginning to sweep.
“Of course you did.” And now Tamar was on her feet, not only not letting the subject drop, but standing in her way. “There’s nothing you like better than punishing yourself,” her sister muttered.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “That’s most of London’s favorite pastime—why shouldn’t I get in on the fun?” She couldn’t help but joke, despite everything. After all, what else was there left to do? She was who she was. And her life was the same. Neither would ever change.
Tamar snatched the broom from Hannah’s hand and threw it against the ground. It clattered over the wood. “That’s not funny,” her sister said.
“What do you want me to say?” Hannah asked before bending to pick up the broom. But her sister was too quick, slamming her foot over the handle and pressing down with all her weight.
“It’s not what I want you to say, it’s what I want you to do.” Tamar placed her hands on Hannah’s shoulders, forcing their faces to meet. “I want you to stop,” she said as Hannah broke free, turning away and marching back to the window.
She pressed her face against the cold glass, willing her sister again to stop. Just stop.
