Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
“Is she all right?” Jesse asked when Geneva found him in the drawing room. He’d helped himself to whisky from the drinks caddy and was sitting by the fire, his legs casually crossed, the Picturegoer in his lap.
“She will be. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I understand. Anything I can do?”
“Don’t rush her,” Geneva said. “It will take her time to accept you.”
Jesse nodded. “Can I get you a drink?”
Already he was acting as if this were his home and he were the master, but Geneva was too sad to feel anything beyond mild irritation.
“No, thank you. But you help yourself,” she added a bit testily.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” Jesse said and set the glass down. “I just thought it would be easier to serve myself than to summon someone.”
“It’s all right,” Geneva assured him. “You did the right thing.”
“OK, then,” Jesse said and smiled at her. “And since I’ve nearly finished my drink and you don’t want one, perhaps I can meet your father?”
A nervous twitch pulled at his mouth, and Geneva felt just a little bit sorry for him. Despite his good fortune, this couldn’t be easy for him. He was walking into hostile territory, and he would have to win everyone over if he was to be made welcome.
“Maybe later. He’s resting,” Geneva said.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you all.”
“It is.”
“If there’s anything at all I can do to help, just name it,” Jesse said, his expression earnest. “Would it make things easier if I stayed at a hotel?”
“I don’t think so. You need to be here, at the hall, to learn about the estate, and to allow us the chance to get to know you.”
Jesse nodded in acknowledgment. Geneva had hoped he’d say something reassuring about the future, but instead he turned to gaze into the dying embers of the coal fire, his elegant fingers loosely wrapped about the nearly empty glass.
She wondered what he was thinking but didn’t feel she had the right to ask.
They were strangers to each other, and, even though their relationship was now on the clock, they still needed to take the time to build a foundation.
When Douglas hobbled into the room, they both turned towards the door. His skin had a yellowish cast and his eyes were glazed, possibly with morphine, but he managed a smile and held out his hand to Jesse, who’d sprung to his feet and hurried to the door to greet his host.
“Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said solemnly.
“The pleasure is all mine, son. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
Douglas’s gaze slid to the chair Jesse had been sitting in, and the young man apologized.
“Forgive me. Did I take your seat? I didn’t realize.”
“It’s quite all right. Would you mind fixing me a drink, Jesseph?”
“Please, call me Jesse. I’ve always hated the name Jesseph. Makes me sound like some biblical prophet.”
Douglas nodded, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. “It does.”
“Father, you shouldn’t be drinking,” Geneva said under her breath as soon as Jesse went to the drinks cabinet. It was dangerous to mix morphine with alcohol. Even she knew that.
“Or what? I will die?” Douglas joked. “Scotch. Neat,” he called out to Jesse.
“Yes, sir.”
Jesse handed Douglas his drink and was about to sit on the sofa when Geneva got up and offered him her seat.
“You two have much to discuss, and I’d like a few minutes to freshen up.”
Douglas peered at her, as if trying to pinpoint what was different. “You cut your hair,” he said at last.
“Yes. Do you like it?” Geneva patted her hair self-consciously.
Douglas looked momentarily dismayed, then nodded. “In my day, hair was considered a woman’s crowning glory, but my day is nearly done. It suits you, my dear. You look very modern.”
“Thank you, Father,” Geneva said quietly.
It seemed they couldn’t discuss anything without constant reminders of her father’s fast-approaching demise.
She needed no reminders. One look at him, and her heart broke all over again.
But she had to remain strong, especially now that Jesse had arrived and would be looking for chinks in the armor.
Geneva was just about to walk through the door when Douglas called out to her. “Genny, wait.”
She turned. “Yes?”
“I was thinking. I’d like to properly celebrate Jesse’s arrival. Introduce him to our neighbors and friends. How long do you think it will take to pull together a party?”
“A party?” Geneva gaped at her father. Was he serious? It was nearly Christmas. People had plans and would be spending the holiday with their families.
“What about a New Year’s Eve bash?” Douglas suggested. “We’ll have a quiet family Christmas, then ring in the new year in style.”
“I suppose it can be done,” Geneva replied.
“I can help,” Jesse offered.
“Excellent, then you two are in charge.”
“Honor will want to be involved,” Geneva said. If they left Honor out, she’d never forgive either of them.
“Of course she will. She’s feeling rather low, I’m afraid,” Douglas said. “It’s never easy for a child to accept change.”
It’s no picnic for me either, Geneva wanted to rage, but she had to remain strong. Honor would have no one else to look to in the coming days.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” she said and walked out into the corridor.
She needed a few minutes to herself, to process the events of the afternoon, and to try to tamp down her anger at her father’s unquestioning acceptance of Jesse.
He’d never thrown a party in her honor, not even when she’d turned twenty-one.
But they had to honor Jesse. Perhaps they should send for the trumpeters and shout about his inheritance from the castle walls.
The king is dead. Long live the king, she thought bitterly and instantly felt ashamed of herself.