Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Sitting down to breakfast the next morning, Ginger nodded at her father and Henry.
They paused from their quiet, serious discussion with wordless greetings.
Her father had the newspaper open. “Not more bad news?” Ginger asked.
She wished she could breakfast in bed like her mother did and avoid morning discussions.
Not that she minded the politics—she didn’t like mornings.
But breakfast in bed was a privilege extended only to married women. Unfortunately.
“It’s all bad news when we’re at war.” Lucy made a face. “I still don’t see why any Englishman should have to go and fight a battle over what’s happening in Serbia.”
“Nor should you have to worry.” Henry pulled at a curl from Lucy’s dark ponytail. “You should be able to enjoy playing with dolls and riding ponies.”
“I’m fourteen, not four.” Lucy straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
Ginger suppressed a laugh. Lucy’s awkward attempts to seem grown had increased lately.
Maybe because of her own uncertainty about the future.
Lucy gave her father a sharp look. “You don’t think the war will mean any delay in my going to Brillantmont, do you? ”
“It may. Swiss finishing schools are hardly a priority, and we all have to make sacrifices.” With a somber expression, he sighed and added, “You may as well know, as I’ve already told the rest of the family. I’m being called to serve in Cairo at the Foreign Office.”
“Cairo?” Lucy’s lips formed a round “o” with the last syllable. “That dreadful place? All I remember is flies and heat. When do you have to go?”
It surprised Ginger that she remembered anything from Cairo at all. Ginger barely did. More than likely, Lucy’s “memories” were little more than stories they’d recounted over the years.
Her father lifted his teacup and spoke over the rim. “You mean when do ‘we’ go?”
What?
Lucy gasped, upsetting her glass of water. As the footman rushed to mop it up, Ginger leaned back, trying to keep her own reaction muted. Her mother must have insisted they all go. Would her father be expecting them all to leave in two weeks?
Despite so many unknowns, the idea of seeing something as iconic as the pyramids made her smile.
The lack of surprise on her brother’s face, though, told her he already knew more about this than she did. “Is the family going?” Ginger asked.
Her father nodded. “Well, you may not. Depending on your decision with Stephen. But I’m afraid the rest of us will be.
Maintaining two households during the war will be expensive.
And your mother would prefer for us to stay together, given the distance.
I’ll be recommending Henry for a post with me. ”
Lucy’s face had blanched. “You mean I have to go to Egypt?” Her fingers trembled as she fussed with the serviette on her lap. “Can’t I stay here at Penmore? Until I go to Brillantmont?”
Her father hadn’t said it outright yet, but Ginger couldn’t help thinking there wouldn’t be a Brillantmont in Lucy’s near future. Poor Lucy. Her devastation would be complete.
“We’ll be closing the house, leaving it to operate on a reduced staff.
There won’t be anyone to care for you here, Lucy, nor would your mother want you left behind.
” Her father’s look was sympathetic. “I know it isn’t what you want, and I’m sorry.
But, in time, the war will end and we can come back.
With any luck, we’ll be back by the beginning of next year. ”
Lucy appeared crestfallen. “An entire half a year? I don’t want to spend a half a year in Egypt!” Tears formed in her eyes, and she shot an angry look toward Ginger. “Why does she get to stay?”
Ginger winced. She understood Lucy’s disappointment, even if it wasn’t one she shared completely.
Their lives were in upheaval. Lucy couldn’t understand that by giving Ginger the option to stay, all her father was really doing was putting more pressure on her to marry Stephen. Heat crawled up Ginger’s neck.
“Virginia may go with us—but if she marries Stephen, then she’ll have to stay here with her husband. She’s a grown woman, therefore her options include staying and starting a household of her own. Then she can avoid Cairo altogether.”
Did her father think she wasn’t willing to go? She’d endure Egypt if it meant getting away from Stephen. The idea had enormous appeal.
“But didn’t you say you’re expected to board a ship in a fortnight?” Ginger played with her necklace. Was the entire house to shut by then?
“A fortnight?” Lucy’s voice was close to a shriek.
Her father’s brows furrowed sternly. “Yes, that’s right.”
Surely her father didn’t expect her to get married to Stephen in two weeks if she stayed? “That’s an awfully rushed engagement if I were to accept Stephen.”
The scent of warm toast and butter filled the air as one footman served breakfast. Her father appeared thoughtful for a few moments.
“I don’t know if we can help the compressed timeline.
Your mother might be keen on staying a few extra weeks to plan and hold a wedding, but I wouldn’t be able to be a part of it. ”
“Or I could simply wait to marry until after the war.” Ginger smiled tautly and met her father’s gaze. “And go with you to Egypt. I’d love to go back there and see it all with fresh eyes. Brush up on my Arabic.”
Her father quirked one brow, as though surprised at her lack of distress.
“You always paid more attention to your lessons than I did.” Silverware clinked as Henry lifted his fork. “Finding antiquities was too distracting. I’ll enjoy seeing those old pyramids and souks once again. Can’t say I ever felt quite so adventurous as when I was there.”
“That’s because you were allowed to go exploring.” Some of the old jealousy Ginger had felt as a girl came back as she lifted her fork.
The newspaper rustled as her father folded it. “Pout if you like, Virginia, but the Egyptian sun was very rough on your fair skin—you may not remember the sunburns you wailed about. You’d have to face those now, I’d imagine.”
Ginger’s lips twitched as she stifled a laugh. Her poor father was clearly irritated she was more than willing to go to Egypt.
“I don’t want to go at all.” Lucy waved her glass of juice. “And I don’t see it’s fair the only one who gets a choice is Ginny.”
Ginger reached for a teacup. “I’m still not completely satisfied by my options, either.
Much as I’d like to go to Egypt, leaving in two weeks seems extreme.
And what of the Martins, Father? Will there be time to tend to this situation with them before you go?
And if we aren’t successful—I had thought to offer them refuge here at Penmore, if it came to it. ”
Henry made a choking noise, then patted his fist over his chest. He looked at Ginger as though she’d gone mad. Her father’s expression was unreadable.
Lucy scraped butter over her toast. “Who are the Martins?”
“The butcher and his family.” Henry gave Ginger an odd look. “Did you mention the idea to Mother yet?”
“The butcher?” Lucy’s eyes widened. “As in the foul-smelling old man from the village?” Her knife remained frozen in mid-air by her toast. “Why on earth would you have them stay here?”
Lucy’s snobbery was unsurprising. But it disappointed Ginger.
The lack of charity and sensitivity might be second nature for a child, but Lucy was getting to an age where those tendencies could turn into self-absorbed snobbery.
“Not him—his family. The police arrested Mr. Martin.” Ginger dabbed her lips with a serviette. “And he isn’t foul-smelling. Or old.”
Lucy placed her toast on her plate and nodded emphatically. “Yes, he is. He smells like sauerkraut. All the time.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is he a spy? Is that why they arrested him? I knew he must be. He always made me feel so uncomfortable. And I can hardly understand him.”
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Ginger rolled her eyes. She moved her attention toward her father, unwilling to entertain Lucy’s ridiculous claims. “Will you be able to help the Martins?”
“Having the Martins stay here isn’t possible.
We must close the house—it would be too expensive to keep it open while the family is in Cairo.
” Her father folded his newspaper and looked directly at Ginger.
“But speaking of your mother and the Martins, she mentioned to me last night she wanted to go and call on Mrs. Martin today. Perhaps you’d be keen to accompany her. ”
“I would, thank you. Lucy, would you like to go, too?” Ginger met Henry’s eyes, knowing he’d easily be able to see her laughter.
Henry chortled as Lucy shuddered.
“No, thank you!” Lucy raised her chin. “I can think of a thousand other ways I’d like to spend my morning. Next, you’ll be asking me to go downstairs and help the cook.”
As though a lesson in cooking wouldn’t do them all a world of good right now. Ginger couldn’t revile Lucy for that, though. Her own knowledge of the kitchen was nonexistent.
“Help the cook? You’d likely burn the house down.” Henry gave her a pointed look. “But your governess might need to take you on some charity outings. You’re turning into a proper snob.”
At least someone had said it.
Lucy’s formerly round and childish face was beginning to take a lovely shape, her cheekbones stronger.
She was getting older. The gap in their ages had made it nearly impossible for them to be playmates—not to mention the time Ginger had spent away at finishing school.
She’d hardly noticed Lucy growing up behind her and had often relegated her to being little more than a child.
Maybe none of them had paid as much attention to Lucy’s highbrow attitude as they should have.