Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Phoebe awoke to the soft gray light of early morning filtering through the curtains.
She yawned and stretched, already sensing the lingering weight in the household that had been building since they had traveled home from Lord and Lady Brennan’s supper party last night.
Yesterday was tense, to say the least.
She had spent a couple of long hours, staring at Sebastian, yearning for his touch.
But then, quite suddenly, he, Verity, Percy, and the Duke of Ravenwood took their leave, and Phoebe was left to mingle with a crowd of people she did not know and could not bring herself to converse in anything less than a stilted manner.
She had sought Genevieve’s company several times but had not been granted leave to speak with her cousin because of her mother’s incessant presence.
The Countess had clung to Phoebe’s side all night, laughing lightly at odd jests, complimenting Viscounts, Marchionesses, and especially the host, Lady Brennan, liberally.
It had taken a great deal of fortitude for Phoebe to keep her smile steady and her hand from swatting her mother aside if she were banishing a pesky gnat from her presence.
Phoebe was not sure what her parents had planned for today, but when she recalled the stack of invitations her father had tapped in his hands yesterday, she feared that only more of the same dreary, lackluster conversations awaited her.
She sat up slowly then and peered around the room for her diary.
Mayhap I should write what comes next for Prince Samuel and his darling Penelope.
The thought cheered her slightly.
But then, her eyes flicked to the dresser—and froze. Cold, needle-like prickles covered her arms, and she stared at the top of the dresser, which was bare.
Her necklace was gone.
“Clara,” she called softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her alarm. “Clara!” she shouted a second time, raising her voice so that she might be heard.
The maid appeared promptly, a polite frown on her face. “Yes, my lady?”
Phoebe’s voice shook. “Have you seen my silver pendant? The one with—” She stopped herself and inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm. “The one with my grandfather’s name engraved upon the outside?”
Clara shook her head. “I haven’t touched it, my lady. Perhaps you misplaced it?”
Phoebe’s heart thumped in her chest. She threw off the bedclothes and launched herself into an upright and standing position.
Hastily, she lurched toward the dresser and patted the surface.
“My lady…” Clara said slowly.
“Help me,” Phoebe moaned as she dropped to her knees and ran her fingers through the plush carpet.
Immediately, Clara crouched and mimicked Phoebe’s movements.
When Phoebe found nothing, she popped up once more and crossed the room. She searched for it in the dressing table, the drawers, the jewelry box she always kept locked, but there was no use, it was nowhere. The necklace had vanished without a trace.
Panic rose in her chest. A constricting sensation made it hard to breathe. “It has sentimental value!” she panted. “It—It cannot just disappear!”
By the time her mother entered the bedchamber, Phoebe’s hands were trembling, and her eyes glistened. “Mother! My necklace, it’s gone! Have you by chance seen it? Did I…” Her hands clutched at her throat. “Did I leave it in the drawing room?”
Her mother gave her a sharp, dismissive look before adjusting her own necklace. “Oh, Phoebe. Must you make a scene at every turn? You will find, in life, that sentiment does not weigh as much as currency or status.”
Phoebe blinked at her, struggling to understand. “But that necklace was given to me by Grandfather! It bears his name. It matters to me greatly.”
Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The little token from your grandfather might matter to you, perhaps. But sacrifices must be made. We had to raise your dowry, and that required selling many possessions. Including that trinket, you treasured so much.”
Phoebe gaped at her mother.
“Close your mouth, Daughter,” the Countess commanded, then she sent a disdainful look at Clara. “And get up, will you?”
The lady’s maid, who had also been staring wide-eyed at her mistress, obeyed the order hurriedly.
Phoebe felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. Her mother, in a small cruel flourish, touched her own neck, glittering with jewels that had never been sold. “There, you see? I did not part with my possessions. But your things… your little fancies… we were more than happy to sell them.”
Phoebe’s knees went weak. She sank onto the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, trying to hold herself together. “But it was irreplaceable.”
Her mother waved her off. “Irreplaceable? Child, you will have more jewelry than you could wear in a lifetime once you are married and settled outside of this house.”
Phoebe’s hands clenched into fists. The loss felt heavier than anything she had experienced, because it was proof of how expendable she truly was in her family’s eyes.
As expendable as any silver item to be pawned away and sold to the highest bidder.