Chapter 4
Four
“Stop fidgeting,” Minerva said tightly, her voice clipped as the carriage jolted along the cobblestone streets.
“I am not fidgeting,” Chastity snapped, her hand instinctively tightening over the pocket of her gown. She turned her gaze to the window, though the inky blackness outside offered no distraction from the charged atmosphere in the cramped space.
Minerva inhaled sharply, clearly holding back whatever lecture was brimming on the tip of her tongue. The silence that followed was stifling, broken only by the creak of the carriage wheels and the occasional muffled clatter of hooves.
Chastity’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel Minerva’s eyes on her, piercing and suspicious. The letter seemed to burn against her hip, its presence as loud as a shout in the quiet tension between them.
“I do hope you are pleased with yourself,” Minerva said finally, her tone brittle. “Whatever you were up to tonight will surely find its way to the gossip sheets by morning.”
Chastity’s fingers twitched, but she kept her gaze firmly out the window. “Not everything is a scandal, Minerva,” she said, her voice low, simmering. “Not that you would understand.”
Minerva stiffened. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Chastity said, turning her head sharply to meet her sister’s gaze, “that not everyone wants to live their life according to your rules.”
The air between them crackled, but Minerva’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She adjusted her gloves in a deliberate, practiced motion, clearly trying to keep her temper in check. “We shall talk about this when we are home,” she said coldly.
“There is nothing to talk about,” Chastity muttered, her voice barely audible. Her hand drifted back to her pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded paper. The feel of it steadied her, a reminder of something Minerva couldn’t control.
Chastity’s thoughts swirled with the memory of his voice, his touch, the way his eyes lingered on her as though she were the only woman in the world – the way his warm eyes met hers, the way his dark hair glistened in the moonlight.
The letter in her pocket felt like a lifeline, a tether to something thrilling and new.
“You’re beautiful,” he’d said, his words brushing against her like a secret promise. “I cannot stay away from you.”
Her cheeks flamed again, and she turned back to the window, the darkness outside a welcome shield against Minerva’s piercing gaze.
Minerva sat stiffly across from her, her jaw tight, her posture rigid.
She didn’t speak again, but the disapproval radiated off her in waves, suffocating and oppressive.
Chastity wondered why her sister always had to be so utterly hidebound.
She would never understand what it was like to love someone passionately.
The only thing Minerva was passionate about was controlling Chastity.
When the carriage finally rolled to a stop outside their townhouse, Chastity was the first to move, sweeping out of the vehicle before Minerva could say another word. She didn’t look back, her pulse racing as she clutched her secret closer to her heart.
“I know you are going to lecture me, so just get it over with.”
Chastity’s voice echoed through the dimly lit entryway of their townhouse, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The soft light from the sconces on the walls cast shadows across her face, emphasizing the defiance in her eyes. They had barely stepped into their house before Chastity exploded.
Minerva turned to face her younger sister, her eyes narrowing.
Chastity stood there, her blonde hair loose and slightly wind-tousled, her cheeks still flushed from the cool evening air, looking every bit the rebellious young woman she had become.
Her beauty, undeniable and youthful, was offset by the stormy look in her eyes.
“I am not here to lecture you, Chastity,” Minerva said, keeping her voice steady, though the words tasted bitter. “But we are going to talk about what happened tonight.”
Chastity rolled her eyes, her frustration bubbling over. “There is nothing to talk about. I did not do anything wrong.”
Minerva’s jaw tightened. She took a step forward, the soft sound of her shoes muffled by the thick carpet beneath her feet. “You were sneaking off—again. Do you have any idea what kind of risks you are taking?”
Chastity’s arms tightened around herself, her blue eyes flashing with anger. “I was not sneaking off. I was alone in the garden, for heaven’s sake! Alone. Not meeting anyone, not doing anything wrong.”
Minerva shook her head, disbelief washing over her. “You know how dangerous it is for you to go off alone without a chaperone when you are not home! You have been hiding things from me, Chastity, sneaking around, lying. How am I supposed to trust you when you refuse to tell me the truth?”
“I should not have to explain myself to you,” Chastity snapped, her voice rising with each word. “I am not a child! You are always watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake.”
Minerva sighed, her frustration mounting as she ran a hand over her dark hair, pushing back the strands that had come loose during the evening. “Because I am trying to protect you! You do not seem to appreciate how dangerous this is—if someone saw you—if he—”
Chastity’s face twisted into a scowl. “There it is. Always trying to protect me, as if I’m not a grown woman. You act like I am helpless. Like you are the only one who knows what’s right.”
Minerva’s heart ached. She was only a few years older than Chastity, but sometimes the gap felt so much wider. Chastity was still wild, reckless—full of the energy and dreams that Minerva had long since tempered in herself.
Chastity’s beauty and charm were effortless, the kind that drew attention wherever she went, while Minerva had grown used to being the serious, dependable one—the one who cleaned up the messes, the one who stood in the background.
“I am not trying to smother you, Chastity,” Minerva said, her voice gentler now, though the exhaustion of years weighed on her.
“But your actions have consequences. You cannot just go wherever you please, whenever you please, without thinking of how it reflects on our family. Do you know how dangerous it would be for you if someone found out about...”
Chastity threw her hands up, cutting her off. “Stop it, Minerva! For once can you just be my sister? You have been trying to mother me ever since she died, and it is suffocating me. I cannot live like this, with you hovering over me, pretending you know what’s best for me.”
Minerva flinched, but she quickly straightened, determined not to let them hurt her. The truth was, Chastity’s words did hurt. They struck at the very core of what Minerva feared—that no matter how hard she tried, she could never truly fill their mother’s shoes.
“I am not pretending to be Mother,” Minerva said quietly, though her voice shook with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. “But someone has to take care of things, someone has to make sure you do not—”
“Do not what?” Chastity interrupted, stepping forward, her blue eyes blazing. “Do not ruin everything? Do not make a mess that you will have to clean up? I am tired of living like this, Minerva. Tired of feeling like I cannot make a single decision without you judging me.”
Minerva opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt raw, exposed. She had spent the past two years doing everything she could to keep their lives in order after their mother’s death. Had all of that effort been for nothing.
“You do not understand,” Minerva whispered, her voice strained. “If you continue down this path, you will destroy yourself. And I cannot—I will not stand by and let that happen.”
Chastity let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You think you are saving me, Minerva, but you are not. You are just... controlling me. I do not need you to fix everything for me. I do not need you to be Mother. I need you to let me live my life.”
Minerva stood there, frozen, as the words hit her with the force of a physical blow. She had always known, deep down, that she couldn’t replace their mother. But hearing it from Chastity, hearing the anger and frustration in her voice, made it all too real.
After a long, tense moment, Chastity turned her back on her sister, her voice brittle. “I am going to bed.”
Minerva watched her retreating figure with her head held high. The sound of Chastity’s bedroom door closing echoed through the quiet townhouse, leaving Minerva standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, her chest tight with unspoken pain.
The house felt so different now. It wasn’t the home it had been when their mother was alive, filled with laughter and warmth. Now it was a place of shadows and tension, a place where two sisters were slowly growing apart.
Minerva drew in a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the cool banister as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Her eyes locked with the eyes of her mother in a portrait hanging in the main hall.
Her mother smiled down at her from the frame, radiant and poised, as though she had all the answers Minerva so desperately needed.
“I am trying,” Minerva whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just don’t know if I’m enough.”
She pressed her palms together, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the edge of the frame. Mother would have known what to do, she thought. She would have known how to make Chastity listen without driving her away.
A knot tightened in Minerva’s chest as her mind replayed Chastity’s words:
You’re not Mother, so stop pretending you are.
The truth of it stung more than she cared to admit. She wasn’t their mother. She wasn’t warm or patient or effortlessly kind. All she had were rules, expectations, and a growing fear that she was failing at all of them.
She had tried so hard, had given everything to keep them together. But no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough.