Chapter Thirty #2
“If she makes you happy, that’s all that matters,” Father whispers. “Didn’t I tell you that yesterday?”
Catherine sniffles, pulling back to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if—I wasn’t sure you’d feel that way about Rosalie,” she
says, glancing at Mother over his shoulder.
She’s still painfully unsure.
Father scoffs and Catherine looks back at him. He takes her hands and squeezes. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to find
someone to love and build a life that made you happy. You haven’t chosen the easiest path.”
“I know,” Catherine says, gripping at his hands, afraid they might slip away.
“But it’s brave of you,” Father says firmly. “All I ask is that you be cautious with whom you trust, and you visit us very
often.”
“That I can do,” Catherine promises, watching the way he smiles at her. Like nothing has changed. Like she’s still the girl
he’s known all her life.
“She’ll come around, I’ll make sure of it,” he adds, softer.
Catherine blinks, watching more than feeling his hands slip away. He steps back to wrap his arm around her mother’s waist. Mother’s still not smiling. Still barely moving.
“Mother?” Catherine hears herself say.
“This is not the choice I would make,” Mother says, her words soft. Still, they echo around the hall, bowling into Catherine’s
stomach.
“I know,” Catherine says haltingly.
“You’re giving up so much.”
Her mother’s eyes are wide and shining, grieving the life she wanted for Catherine. The marriage, the babies, the social status.
But those were her dreams, her happy ending.
“I know,” Catherine repeats, stronger. “But they’re not things I want. Can you—” She hesitates. Father nods at her and Catherine
takes a deep breath. “Can you—will you still help me, even if it’s not what you want for me?”
Mother meets Catherine’s eyes, so much brimming between them. So much now so broken between them.
“She will,” Father says.
Catherine glances at him, Mother and Lady Tisend’s fight echoing in her head. “Not just because he tells you you have to?”
Father opens his mouth, affronted.
“Will it change your mind if I won’t?” Mother asks.
Catherine pushes through the knot in her throat, disappointment flooding through her veins. “No,” she says. It’s cracking,
and bruised, but it’s true.
Catherine will love Rosalie, will choose Rosalie, whatever the cost, but she had . . . she hoped—
Mother nods slowly, her body still so stiff, face still so blank.
“I have never regretted marrying your father, but I do regret the manner in which it happened. I was backed into the decision. It was the right one, but not how I wanted to make it and I—” She glances at Father, whose face has softened, and takes a deep breath.
“I want you to have the choice.” Her eyes meet Catherine’s.
“I don’t agree, but neither will I stand in your way. ”
It’s not a weeping hug and unquestioned support. It’s not the two of them, girls together against the world, anymore. It’s
not the fairy tale.
It’s not what she wanted.
But it’s a start.
“Thank you,” Catherine says, grateful, and grieving, and wounded, and hopeful all at once.
They stand there staring tearfully at each other, learning each other all over again.
“Well,” Father says, smiling at them both. “I suppose we should go deal with our guests. Can’t leave Lord Tisend to referee
your mother and Lady Tisend on his own.”
Mother huffs and Catherine lets out a small laugh. Some things never change, at least.
Mother steps away from Father, opening the door to the sitting room. She glances at Catherine and nods once before heading
inside.
“She’ll come around,” Father repeats, stepping forward to squeeze Catherine’s hand.
“I know,” Catherine says, squeezing back. “Thank you.”
Father smiles, his eyes crinkling, and then lets go, heading inside.
Catherine remains just outside the doorway, alone. She takes a deep breath, trying to let the onslaught of elation, and hurt,
and exhaustion, and hope cascade off her until she feels steady again.
Taking her happiness, choosing her happiness, comes at a cost. It isn’t perfect. It isn’t painless. It isn’t without sacrifice. But it’s her choice.
“All right?” Catherine blinks as Rosalie slips out into the hallway. “I was eavesdropping,” she admits, stepping forward to
wrap her arms around Catherine. “I’m sorry.”
Catherine holds tight to her shoulders, pressing her face into her hair. She’s sorry too. But she’s also so incredibly happy.
“I love you,” she whispers, pulling back to meet Rosalie’s eyes. “And the rest will come.”
Rosalie smiles, reaching up to brush the remaining tears from her cheeks. “The rest will come.”
Catherine lets the sparkle in Rosalie’s eyes fill her up. There’s a lot of life to be lived together. A lot after their happy-ever-after
to get to.
She takes Rosalie’s hand and strides into the sitting room, looking around at the Tisends and her parents, gathered on their
two worn settees, Christopher and Lady Jones in the armchairs between them. Wholehearted acceptance might not be in the immediate
offing, but they’re all here.
Christopher beams at her beside Lady Jones. Christopher, Amalie, and Henrietta—they’ll build a better world with them, whether
all of their parents ever come around or not.
Even so, the words stick momentarily in her throat. Rosalie squeezes her hand, and there’s a tingly feeling that flows from
the touch of her palm, the press of her fingers, the heat of her body close against Catherine’s arm.
They’ll do this together. They’ll choose the future, together.
Rosalie nods up at her once, smiling.
Catherine takes a deep breath and turns back to their families, determination spreading through her. “So.”