Chapter 2 #2
“In case you were wondering,” Delia began, once Tommy had bounded over to the tea cart, “Jack has become even more tiresome over the years.”
“Yes, I expected as much. Samuel mentioned they nearly came to blows the last time he was here.”
“Oh, Sam,” Delia said, with a wistful look. “I wish he would come home too.”
Like my husband, Oliver, Samuel had joined the Foreign Service after Cambridge.
For many years, he had worked as an attaché in Istanbul, so we saw him fairly often in Greece.
But not long after Oliver’s death, he had taken a post in Bombay.
I hadn’t seen him in person since then. We kept in touch over frequent letters, but it wasn’t the same, and I missed him terribly.
He was the sibling I had always felt closest to growing up, not just in age but in temperament and scruples.
Which often put us diametrically opposed to Jack.
“It’s been hard being here without either of you,” Delia continued.
I was genuinely shocked to hear this. “Has it?”
She turned to me then. “You can’t be that surprised. I thought the two of you hung the moon.”
I confess, that was not how I remembered my sister.
She was much younger than me, and my last memories of her were of a frivolous young girl fixated on nothing but ball gowns and beaus.
In short, all the things my mother had wanted me to be interested in.
Time and experience had softened my impression of Delia, but I suppose I had never truly considered her impression of me.
“I had no idea,” I admitted.
Her face fell in disappointment. “I suppose it wasn’t really until after you left and I had my season. It was awful. And so boring. Then I … I understood why you chose Girton instead.”
I huffed a laugh. “I wish it had been that easy.”
The truth was that I had fought my parents for years.
And, even then, it was only because Aunt Agatha was the only person who could bully my father that they eventually relented and I was allowed to enroll.
But I had never forgotten how dismissive they were about my educational aspirations, and it had driven a wedge between us that still remained to this day.
And why it had been so easy for me to leave after I married Oliver.
Delia looked chagrined. “Right. Well, I’m glad you were able to go, in any case. If not for you, I don’t think I would have gone to Slade.”
I gave her a smile. “You would have gotten there, Delia, with or without me. I’ve no doubt of that. And I’d love to see your work.”
Her eyes lit up, and she gripped my arm. “You should come with me tomorrow!”
I tilted my head. “To what?”
“A gallery opening. One of my paintings will be there. It will be great fun!”
“I couldn’t possibly …”
“You absolutely could. And Mama will be so pleased that I have a proper chaperone for once,” she added with a laugh.
“But I have Tommy,” I explained, even as I wondered exactly who had been chaperoning Delia—if anyone.
My sister furrowed her brow in confusion. “Don’t you have a nanny?”
I laughed. “No, Delia. I do not.”
My aunt’s housekeeper didn’t mind keeping an eye on him if I needed to run an errand or two, but I couldn’t ask the woman to stay the night so I could traipse around London until all hours.
“Well, perhaps he could stay with Dolly for the evening and play with his cousins.”
Before I could object to this, Delia marched over to our sister-in-law, who was still by the tea cart. “Dolly! What do you think about having Tommy stay with you tomorrow evening so Minnie can accompany me to a gallery opening?”
“That’s fine with me,” she said, then she shifted her gaze to me. “That is, if it’s all right with you, Minnie.”
“That is a marvelous idea,” my mother suddenly chimed in from her seat on the sofa.
“I really don’t think—”
“Let the boy spend some time with his cousins,” she interrupted as her blue eyes narrowed on me.
I very much did not appreciate being badgered into leaving my child for the night in the home of people he had only just met—family or not—and was just about to say so when I felt a tug on my skirt. I looked down and found Tommy looking up at me with a pleading expression on his sweet face.
“Please, Mama.”
“Are you sure?” I murmured, but he nodded eagerly in response.
“It will be great fun, I think.”
John and Franny joined us then, both with equally eager expressions.
“Yes, please, Auntie Minnie,” John said. “I can show him our collection of fossils.”
Oh, goodness. I had forgotten all about my brother Jack’s penchant for fossils. He had been properly obsessed as a boy and must have cabinets full of them by now.
Tommy began to tug on my skirt with more urgency, and I knew the matter was settled. He missed his friends and even his sister, as adversarial as their relationship could be, and I would not let my own worries get in the way of his joy.
“All right,” I replied.
The children then let out a cheer, which was, admittedly, rather adorable, and scampered off to make plans while Dolly came over to hand me a cup of tea.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” she said, with an encouraging smile. “I’m used to managing a house full of rowdy children. Enjoy yourself.”
I accepted the cup and managed to return her smile. “I’ll try.”
Tommy spending the night away from me was one thing. Going out on the town with Delia, however, was another matter altogether …
“Don’t worry,” my sister said with an easy grin. “I’ll make sure you have a marvelous time. Now, I’m off to finish my work. Shall we meet here at eight o’clock?”
I held back my grimace at the hour and nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”
I preferred to be in bed, and ideally asleep, no later than nine o’clock most evenings, likely when the London social scene was just warming up.
“Until tomorrow, then,” Delia said as she gave me a tight hug and kissed my cheek. “Good night, all,” she added with a grand wave to the room before disappearing through the doorway.
Dolly took in the dazed expression on my face and smiled. “You’ll have fun.”
“I’ve never experienced London nightlife before,” I admitted.
Dolly tilted her head in surprise. “Truly?”
“Well, I went to Girton once I came of age. And then Oliver and I left for Athens as soon as we were married.”
“I’d forgotten all that,” she said softly. “We were so disappointed not to have the chance to celebrate with you.”
The regret on her face took me by surprise, but before I could respond, my mother cut in.
“Come here, Minerva.”
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled, and for one brief moment, I felt like a girl again, being calling into my mother’s sitting room to be admonished for some way in which I had unintentionally embarrassed her: I hadn’t made enough conversation at tea with the ladies, or I wore the wrong dress to church, or I didn’t respond the right way when questioned about my plans for the summer.
I had been henpecked for nearly every choice I made until the day I left for good.
Only now, after being removed from this treatment for well over a decade, could I truly understand how damaging it had been.
And perhaps worst of all, it was futile to discuss any of it with my mother, who believed she had done everything right by me.
Everything a woman of her class and status was supposed to do.
My few successes were only because of her guidance, and the many ways in which I had failed could only be because of my own stubbornness.
It had been a frequent enough refrain for years, including one of the very last things she had ever said to me in person:
You are lucky a man like Oliver Harper is willing to overlook so very much in order to marry you.
I swallowed hard and forced my feelings aside as I moved to sit beside her. “Yes, Mother?”
She patted my arm, and for a moment, I was struck both by the gesture and by how frail her hand looked. “I’m glad you are spending time with Delia. You can be a good influence on her.”
I nearly choked on my sip of tea and had to clear my throat several times before I could respond. “Oh?”
My mother didn’t seem to notice my surprise. “I’m sure you can see that Delia has become rather … willful since you left. Perhaps I indulged her too much as a girl, but that doesn’t really account for some of her behavior,” she added, lowering her voice.
I glanced over at the children, who were in another corner of the room with Dolly.
“What kind of behavior?” But even as I asked the question, I had a fair idea.
“I don’t care so much about the painting,” my mother insisted. “Lots of ladies paint. It’s just that some of the people she has surrounded herself with are not quite—”
“A bunch of bloody bohemians,” my father suddenly interjected.
I managed to hold back my laugh, as he clearly wasn’t trying to make a joke. There was a sharpness in his gaze now that had been missing for most of the evening. “Well, that can’t be terribly surprising for an artist.”
My mother scowled. “Things have changed while you were away. I don’t know what to make of this younger generation. The women refuse to marry, they live on their own, they work. And these are girls like your sister! Girls from good families who should know better.”
“I see,” I said slowly, though my reaction was far different than my parents. It appeared my sister had bucked even more conventions than I had. Frankly, I was thrilled for her.
“Try to talk some sense into her, will you?” my mother pleaded.
“I’m not really sure what you want me to say.”
She huffed in exasperation. “Tell her about the joys of having a family. Of being a wife. A mother. Perhaps if she spends more time with you and Tommy, she will see what she is missing out on.”
I very much wanted to point out that, technically, I was no longer a wife, given that my beloved husband had died quite suddenly and that I would wish that pain on no one, but I could see her point. “Perhaps she just needs to meet the right person,” I offered gently.
“That is not the issue,” my mother insisted. “She was the most popular girl of her season. She had half a dozen marriage proposals from the most eligible men in London and turned every single one of them down.”
“She was very young then,” I pointed out. As I recalled, Delia had been only seventeen for her coming out.
“And now she is even older than you when you married,” my mother countered.
I pursed my lips. She had made up her mind, and there was no arguing my way out of this. “Fine,” I relented. “I will speak with her about her future. But I can’t promise anything.”
Nevertheless, my mother looked relieved. “She will listen to you. Delia rather idolizes you now,” she added with a laugh.
It was her emphasis on the last word, and the carelessness with which she said it, that dug under my skin. But I only responded with a weak smile. “I will do my best.”
“She’s been spending an awful lot of time lately with a man called Charles Pearson,” my mother continued. “At first, Delia claimed they were only friends, but I don’t think that is—”
“No man is friends with a woman,” my father scoffed. “Ridiculous idea.”
My mother subtly rolled her eyes, but did not bother to respond to his comment. “His family is respectable enough, but I don’t know what his intentions are. And she shouldn’t spend so much time with him if it isn’t going to lead somewhere. You understand?”
“Yes. Perfectly.”
“I have no desire to act as my daughter’s jailer,” my mother said, looking visibly uncomfortable. “But if she gets herself into trouble, I may not have a choice.”
I balked at this rather draconian statement. “Mother, I really don’t think—”
“Just make sure you keep a close eye on her tomorrow night,” she said. Her eyes were as hard as steel now, and I knew from much experience there was no point in trying to reason with her.
“Of course. Even if it means enduring an evening with a group of bohemian artists,” I added, attempting to lighten the mood.
But my mother arched an elegant brow. “I can’t imagine it will be that difficult. Agatha mentioned some writer you knew on Corfu.”
My mouth went dry. I had barely said a word to my aunt about that situation. Why on earth would she think—Cleo. No doubt my daughter had told Aunt Agatha all manner of nonsense.
“Mr. Dorian only hired me as his typist temporarily,” I explained. “We didn’t—we didn’t socialize.”
No, we just investigated a murder and traveled together before he rescued me from certain death.
Then, just as I began to think that more was possible, he made a shocking claim against my late husband, insinuating that he had been stealing Grecian artifacts and selling them on the black market.
We argued, and he left Corfu shortly afterwards.
I hadn’t heard a word from him since. Unless one counted an admittedly vague dedication in his latest book—which I did not.
But I would rather face death once again than discuss any of that with my mother.
As she held my gaze, I could feel my cheeks heating, but I would say nothing more about it.
“I see. Agatha must have misunderstood. As usual,” she added under her breath.
The instinct to defend my aunt began to well inside me, but it was swiftly overruled by the desire to move on from the subject. “Not to worry,” I said with a tight smile, before casting a glance at the clock on the mantel. “I had no idea it was so late. We really must be going.”
It could have been two in the afternoon and I would have said the exact same thing. This reunion had gone on long enough.
My mother made no objection, so I moved to collect Tommy from the corner. We then said our good-byes, and I promised Dolly I would send him to her home tomorrow in time for tea.
“That was nice, Mama,” Tommy said once we retrieved our coats.
I cast a wary glance at the footman who, like any well-trained servant, was pretending to ignore us. “Yes. Very nice. Now let’s go home.”