Page 94 of The Vanished

DECEMBER 1923

Ravenglass

In the days leading up to the New Year’s Eve party, the house was a hive of activity. It reminded Geneva of when her mother and brothers had still been alive. There had been such a sense of anticipation then, a hum of excitement that filled the house even if she and Honor weren’t permitted to attend because they were too young. They would hide on the nursery landing, listening to the music and the murmured laughter drifting up from the drawing room, imagining what it would be like when they were old enough to join the festivities and eventually come out to society. It had all seemed so glamorous and magical then. Now she knew better.

The war to end all wars had altered the country in countless ways, but, for young women of breeding, very little had changed. They were still only a step above livestock, paraded through London’s marriage markets until they found a suitable buyer. Geneva hadn’t even had the fleeting thrill of a court presentation or a coming-out ball. Instead, she had been sold to the highest—and only—bidder, a human sacrifice to the gods of nobility and wealth.

Honor might envy Geneva’s supposed good fortune, but her sister didn’t yet grasp the price it carried. Geneva admitted that things could be worse and that, as far as bargains with the devil went, she was escaping lightly. But to have her future wrested from her at such a young age seemed unbearably unfair. She hadn’t lived yet, hadn’t done anything of note, and, if her father had his way, by this time next year she might already have a child. Her wishes seemed to matter to no one. She was simply a tool, a vessel to be filled as quickly as possible.

And what if Jesse proved a cruel or indifferent husband? Plenty of men kept mistresses and even secret families. What did she truly know of the man she was expected to wed, a month from now, if her father managed to hold on? Jesse professed admiration, but he might simply be playing the smitten suitor to please Douglas. Once her father was gone, everything could change.

The more she thought on it, the more despondent she grew. Even though Jesse tried to coax her into Ravenglass for lunch or persuade her to go skating with him, Honor, and Rose, Geneva chose solitary walks or the refuge of her room or the library. She needed time to accept the changes barreling towards her and to tamp down the resentment she felt towards her father. She couldn’t even speak to Rory. That door was closed forever, barred by their mutual anger and resentment.

It was fitting that Rory was heading to the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, and she would remain here—where she was neither free nor felt particularly brave.

SIXTY-THREE

When Geneva woke on the morning of December the thirty-first, she felt a tiny spark of optimism. The situation wasn’t about to improve, but come tomorrow it would be a new year, and several people who had been instrumental in causing her agitation would be gone. Aunt Clarissa would return to London and stop dripping advice into her brother’s ear, and Rory’s departure would make things considerably less awkward. Tonight was a night to celebrate and see this year out with music, dancing, and champagne. Tomorrow, a new reality would set in, one Geneva would have to accept, no matter how uncertain she felt on the inside.

The guests weren’t due to arrive until eight o’clock, but there was much to do, especially since Geneva would act as hostess for the first time and shoulder the responsibility for anything that might go wrong. She needed to check the food, oversee the decorations, tweak the seating plan, and bolster her father before he made his way downstairs in white tie and tails. Honor and Rose were in a frenzy of excitement, whispering to each other, before suddenly disappearing just before noon. Geneva saw the Austin 7 from the window, roaring towards the gates, her sister at the wheel. Where on earth were they going? And when had Honor learned to drive?

Sending up a fervent prayer that the silly things wouldn’t get themselves killed, Geneva hurried to the kitchen, where Cook had reduced one of the maids to tears with her endless criticism of the girl’s chopping skills. Geneva brokered peace, checked on the progress of the menu, examined the dining room, where the table for twenty was being set, made sure there were enough champagne glasses for the midnight toast, and placed the records Jesse had purchased beside the gramophone. She would ask the footmen who had been hired from the village to roll up the carpet and create a makeshift dance floor in the drawing room.

By the time she looked up, it was nearly three o’clock. Where the devil was Honor? Normally, Geneva would have taken her concerns to her father or Rory, but, since she was meant to marry Jesse, she supposed she must now go to him. She hadn’t seen him for some time and wondered what he might be doing.

She found him in her father’s bedroom, reading aloud from the book she and Honor had given Douglas for Christmas. It sounded strange to hear Dickens narrated in an American accent, but there was something rather appealing about it as well. How handsome Jesse looked with his fair hair, blue eyes, and bronzed skin. Had he not been forced upon her, and had they met instead at a ball or supper party, she might have been very taken with him indeed.

Jesse stopped reading and smiled at her, his gaze warm with affection. Was it possible that he truly cared for her? And could she dare hope for a happy ending? She wouldn’t find her answer tonight, and she was sick with worry over her feckless sister, but perhaps she could allow herself to fan that spark of optimism she had felt earlier and let it grow into a small, tenacious flame.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Geneva said.

Douglas waved a dismissive hand. “I’m actually rather tired. Perhaps we can continue tomorrow.”

“I hope my reading didn’t bore you,” Jesse joked.

“No, it was nice. Thank you. But I do need to sleep a while before the party, otherwise I will never last till midnight.”

“I’ll leave you to rest, then,” Jesse said and followed Geneva out the door.

“I’m worried about Honor,” she told him. “She took off with Rose hours ago. I had no idea she could drive.”

Jesse smiled guiltily. “I’ve been teaching her.”

“Without asking Father for permission?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have asked. It’s just that she’s been so affected by all this, and she feels like no one cares what she wants. I thought it would be a nice thing to do. I didn’t think she’d take the car for a joyride.”

Geneva thought that was a fitting term. Honor had looked joyful as she had sped through the gates. Perhaps she needed this, and as long as the girls returned safely, she decided, she wouldn’t berate them for going off like that. They deserved a bit of fun.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jesse asked.

“Everything is in hand,” Geneva replied, then smiled ruefully. “Actually, there is something.”

“I’m ready and able to do my part,” Jesse said.

“I’m sadly out of practice when it comes to dancing. And I don’t know any of the new dances.”

Jesse’s smile grew wide. “It would be my absolute pleasure to teach you. And we’ll begin with the Charleston. I don’t think it’s very popular in England, but it’s becoming all the rage in America. Can I show you?”