Page 91 of The Vanished

Geneva held out her hand, and Honor reluctantly handed over the book. It was Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence, which was rather racy for a seventeen-year-old.

“Where did you get this?” Geneva asked as she handed back the volume.

“From Rose. She just finished it.”

Geneva shook her head and smiled despite herself. “I expect Aunt Clarissa will have something to say about this.”

“No, she won’t, because you are not going to tell her,” Honor warned. “Rose and I are seventeen, almost of age. We’re treated like adults when it suits our parents and then berated like children when it doesn’t. We’re regarded as pieces of luggage to be moved from place to place without consideration or consent. Can you blame us for fighting back?”

“No, I can’t,” Geneva said. “Is this because Father decided to send you to finishing school?”

She couldn’t help but wonder how Honor would react if she found out that their father planned to offer her to Jesse if Geneva refused. She was right; they were no better than chattel.

“What are you talking about?” Honor exclaimed. Angry spots of color bloomed in her cheeks. “When did he tell you that?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me, which just goes to prove my point. He could have asked me what I want.”

“He thought you’d be happy. You’ll be with Rose.”

“And do you think Rose wants to go to finishing school?” Honor scoffed. “We’re not clay to be molded into whatever our parents want us to be.”

“Honor, Father wants what’s best for you,” Geneva said and sank into an armchair. It was hardly ten o’clock in the morning, but she was already emotionally drained. Who else would pick a fight with her today?

“No, Father wants what’s best for himself,” Honor replied.

“He’s dying,” Geneva exclaimed.

“Yes, he is, but before he goes he wants to make sure everyone does his bidding, because even in death he has to have the last word.”

Geneva looked at her little sister. She understood perfectly well what this was about. Honor was grieving, and she was understandably anxious about the future. Seventeen was a difficult age, but so was twenty-one when one had yet to embark on a life of one’s own.

“Father wants to announce my engagement to Jesse on New Year’s Eve,” she said quietly. “He wants us to marry as soon as possible.”

Honor’s eyes narrowed. “And how does Jesse feel about this?”

“He has agreed.”

She decided not to tell her sister that Jesse had confessed his feelings for her. Honor would either belittle his affection or become angry and accuse him of scheming to get into their father’s good graces in order to solidify his position.

“And you’re happy to be sold into marriage like a prize cow?” she asked, and Geneva would have happily slapped the sneer off her face.

“Really, Honor,” she exclaimed. “Why must you be so ugly?”

“Because I’m angry, Gen. I’m angry that Mother is gone, that our brothers are dead, and that our father is about to pop his clogs at the ripe old age of forty-six. I’m angry that no one has bothered to ask me how I feel or what I might want. And I’m livid that you’re going to marry Jesse, while I will be exiled to finishing school, where I will be disciplined and belittled until the powers-that-be feel that I am finished enough to be unleashed on society.”

“I can understand all the other reasons, but why are you angry about Jesse? Surely this will make your life easier.”

Honor inhaled deeply, opened her mouth to reply, closed it again, then let out a growl of frustration.

“What?” Geneva asked. “What am I missing?”

Honor slammed her fist on the armrest of the chair. “Every man we meet has eyes only for you. They dismiss me without a second thought. I’m only a few years younger, and just as pretty. I can be witty and amusing, and I like to dance.”

“I like to dance.”

“You can be a real stick-in-the-mud, you know that? You always play the wallflower, so they feel they have to coax you out.”