Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Ravenglass
It had been nearly a month since her father had made his announcement, but, instead of making peace with the situation, Geneva found it harder and harder to go on, knowing he had only a few months left to live.
Douglas was fading fast, the strength of will he had relied on to fight his illness finally giving out.
Honor alternated between sulky silences and emotion-fueled outbursts.
And Rory, although understanding of Geneva’s distress, was growing impatient, since his future also hung in the balance, both personally and professionally.
But she couldn’t bring herself to give him an answer.
Not yet. And she had not gone to his cottage since the night she’d told him of her predicament, despite his insistence that they needed to talk.
She wasn’t ready to talk, nor was she ready to engage in renewed intimacy.
Not unless she meant to marry him. Rory was right, they had much to discuss, but all that would have to wait.
As the day of Jesseph’s arrival drew ever closer, she became more emotional and short-tempered.
It was as if she were being marched to her own execution, and the anticipation of what was to come was becoming almost worse than the thing itself.
She didn’t want to meet the man, but she also understood that it was best to face him rather than allow him to grow larger and more terrifying in her mind.
At least then she’d know what she was up against and might find a way to reason with him once he was nothing more than flesh and bone rather than some mythical monster.
She hadn’t said so to her father, but, as far as she was concerned, marriage was off the table even if the man was willing.
So, either Jesseph would agree to look after the sisters or he wouldn’t.
As she gazed up at the familiar facade of Bellamy Hall, Geneva knew it would break her heart to leave the only home she’d ever known, but, given the tragic losses nearly everyone in the country had suffered so recently and the young men who had been killed in the Great War, losing one’s home wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a person.
She had to remain steadfast, for both her father and her sister, and stop moping about.
Rory was right. It wasn’t fair to make her father’s final days intolerable, so she would try to make the best of the situation and prevail upon Honor to do the same.
They had to focus on Douglas and spare him any unnecessary suffering.
And until he was truly gone, Geneva wasn’t going to make any decisions about the future, no matter how impatient Rory got.
She felt too emotionally raw and had yet to broach the really difficult subjects that would decide their future.
She hadn’t told Honor of Rory’s proposal, and in her quieter moments, when her sister sought reassurance rather than an opportunity to vent her frustration, they talked of the future.
It was a terrifying prospect to suddenly find themselves cast out of their home and into a world of which they knew precious little, but countless women had managed to survive after they’d lost their men in the war.
And the Bellamy girls would be no different.
Perhaps Geneva could take a secretarial course or find a position as a teacher.
It would be more difficult to place Honor, since she wasn’t yet of age and wasn’t qualified to do much of anything, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.
Geneva would speak to Aunt Clarissa when she came for Christmas.
Maybe they could stay with her and Rose in London until they got on their feet.
They didn’t need much, just a roof over their heads.
Surely Aunt Clarissa could spare one room in her townhouse.
The more Geneva and Honor spoke of it, the more manageable it all seemed.
So, the days went on much as before, and, when it all got too much and her father’s suffering became too difficult to bear, Geneva found solace in solitude.
She went for long walks along the wintry mudflats, retreated to her room with a book, or, on fine days, went for a drive.
Douglas had been against her learning to drive, but Geneva had reminded him that plenty of women had driven ambulances during the war and that one didn’t need to be male to handle a motor.
Douglas had held out until Geneva turned eighteen but had finally succumbed to her pleas and taught her how to drive.
They’d started out on deserted rural roads, where she wasn’t likely to encounter anyone but sheep, but eventually her father’s confidence had grown and he had permitted Geneva to drive in more populated areas.
He still didn’t like it when she went out on her own, but since he had shared his devastating news, she hadn’t bothered to ask.
She simply took the car and left, usually before Honor was up so she didn’t have to invite her to come along.
Her sister needed her support, but, although Geneva was doing everything in her power to help her through this difficult time, Honor could be selfish.
She needed to unload her anger onto someone else in order to feel lighter.