Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Jesse was as good as his word and took care of everything.
He located a decent hotel at the center of town and ushered them to the bar.
It was a bit early in the day, but no one was going to raise an eyebrow if three people who were obviously willing to spend some money wanted a drink.
Jesse ordered whisky for himself and gin fizzes for Geneva and Honor.
He warned Honor to make hers last because she wasn’t getting another.
Geneva barely tasted the first fizz, but by the second she was able to slow down and enjoy the drink.
The alcohol made her a bit queasy, but it also took the edge off, and not just from the stress of this one day, and she began to relax.
By the time she finished her second glass, she had adopted a devil-may-care attitude and was ready to set off on their mission.
After consulting the bartender, Jesse led them to a surprisingly well-stocked record shop.
Geneva and Honor had never heard of most of the musicians he asked about, but Jesse insisted they were the last scream in modern jazz.
If nothing else, Geneva found herself charmed by the song titles, and Honor dissolved into giggles when Jesse requested “Yes! We Have No Bananas.” The shop owner, sensing a substantial purchase, was more than happy to play the selections on his gramophone so Jesse could decide which records to buy.
As the jaunty melodies filled the shop, Geneva felt her hips sway and her feet begin to tap.
One tune—something called “The Charleston”—was particularly lively, and both Geneva and Honor found it catchy.
Jesse added it to the growing stack of records.
They left with “You’d Be Surprised,” “Barney Google,” “California, Here I Come,” “April Showers,” and “Swingin’ Down the Lane,” the records neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
After the record shop, they stopped at a department store.
It was a drab place staffed by sullen shopgirls and offering an uninspired selection of merchandise, but a helpful floor manager led them to an out-of-the-way corner of the women’s department.
There stood a single rack of party dresses that glittered with sequins, beads, and diamantés.
The girls examined each frock before settling on a black beaded sheath for Geneva and a violet drop-waist dress for Honor, its surface shimmering with beads and its fringed hem lending it a lively swish.
Honor was in absolute heaven, and she had even unearthed a pair of beaded headbands, one adorned with a colorful peacock feather that she immediately claimed for herself.
Jesse, ever the good sport, waited patiently while they tried on their selections.
He then paid for the purchases without complaint, since Geneva didn’t have enough money on her to cover the cost and the Bellamys did not have an account with the shop.
“I will pay you back as soon as we get home,” Geneva promised, but Jesse shrugged good-naturedly.
“No rush. And if you skip out on the bill, I know where you live,” he teased. “Shall we find a place to eat?”
“Yes, please,” Honor exclaimed. “Now that I no longer have to try on dresses, I’m ready to indulge.”
“And indulge you shall. I asked the manager in men’s hosiery, and he recommended a pub just down the street. Passable food, warm beer, and a separate if slightly down-at-the-heel dining room suitable for the more respectable sort of clientele.”
Jesse intoned this in an upper-crust, nasal British accent that made the girls shriek with laughter. Perhaps it was still the alcohol talking, but Jesse really was good fun, Geneva decided as she handed him the parcels and allowed him to escort her to the door.
“Did you go to jazz clubs in New York?” Honor asked once they had been seated and had been handed menus by the smiling waiter, who smelled a healthy tip and would clearly bend over backwards to make certain they were happy.
“All the time. The best speakeasies are in Harlem. The alcohol is still flowing, the music is sublime, and everyone is your friend, at least until the sun comes up.”
“Speakeasies?” Honor asked, tripping over the unfamiliar word.
“Secret clubs that serve alcohol. There’s a prohibition in the United States. Nearly three years now.”
“Gosh,” Honor said. “Can they do that?”
“They can do anything they like, but that doesn’t stop people drinking. I actually think everyone is drinking more now.”
“Where do they get the booze?” Geneva asked.
“It’s smuggled in. Irish whisky, English gin, Russian vodka, Mexican tequila, Scotch, beer, schnapps, you name it.”
“Maybe we should have another fizz,” Honor said. “In solidarity.”
“I’ve created a monster,” Jesse said with a shake of the head. “Although an adorable one.”
Honor grinned happily at the compliment. “I’d like to see New York, even if they don’t allow anyone to have cocktails.”
“You’d love it. It’s a fizzing town,” Jesse said and raised an eyebrow to indicate he had absolutely intended the play on words. “There’s so much to do. The city never sleeps.”
“You must find us quite provincial,” Geneva said. “Will you not grow bored living in the country?”
What she really wanted to ask was what Jesse’s plans were.
She couldn’t see him playing the country squire, not after the life he was clearly accustomed to.
Would he close up the house and leave, or would he take matters further and sell the lot?
He might take whatever was left once the death duties were paid and return to New York, never to give his English cousins another thought.
“I could never get bored with two such lovely ladies for company,” he replied smoothly. “It’s been a long while since I felt part of a family.”
“Do you think of us as family, then?” Honor asked.
“I’d like to. I know it must be awful for you, what with your father so ill, and me turning up out of the blue, but I will look after you both.”
“Will you?” Honor said, and her relief was palpable.
“Of course I will. As the head of the family, it will be my sacred duty.”
Honor beamed at him, but Geneva’s stomach soured at Jesse’s turn of phrase. The head of the family. That implied power and control. Not only of the purse strings but of their personal choices, and ultimately their very futures.
“So, what should I try?” Jesse asked as he perused the menu. “I don’t recognize half these dishes.”
“I thought you’d spent time in England,” Geneva said.
Jesse shrugged. “I ate at the mess, and we didn’t really eat when we hit the pubs. It was all warm beer and cold women.”
“I would think the ladies were very impressed by you,” Honor said. “You must have looked so handsome in your uniform. Do you have any photos?”
“I didn’t think to bring them with me.”
“Was it terrifying? The war, I mean.”
“It was, but also exhilarating. I haven’t felt so alive since. I suppose fear of imminent death will do that.”
“I wonder if Father feels more alive,” Honor mused.
“I seriously doubt that,” Geneva snapped. “It’s hardly a similar situation.”
“I don’t think he felt that way during the war either,” Honor replied. “And then when Jack died…”
They all became somber then, thinking of the people they had lost and the legacies they had left behind. Jesse didn’t mention his parents, but he was obviously sad to have been left alone in the world.
“I’m very sorry about your brother,” he said. “He should have been the one to inherit. Not me. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. It all feels so strange.”
“That’s British inheritance laws for you,” Geneva said. “Unfair and unapologetically archaic.”
Jesse fixed her with his serious gaze. “You are right. It is unfair. You should be the one to take over. I’m a stranger, to you, and to this way of life.”
You can leave me in charge and go back, Geneva thought but didn’t voice her wish.
Maybe he would come to it on his own and she wouldn’t have to beg.
That would be the best possible outcome, at least for her and Honor, but she didn’t think it would be that easy.
Jesse may not have expected to come into this inheritance, but that didn’t mean he was ready to walk away.
“I think we should go home and play the new records for Uncle Douglas,” Jesse said once they’d finished and he’d paid the bill.
“He doesn’t like jazz,” Honor said.
“It might cheer him up.”
“It’s worth a try,” she conceded. “Will you join us, Genny, or do you have plans with Rory?” She fixed Geneva with a pointed stare. “Geneva is in love.”
“Are you?” Jesse asked. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“Our estate manager. He’s Irish,” Honor supplied.
“The Irish are not treated very well in New York,” Jesse said.
“They’re not treated well here either. I don’t know why Father hired him,” Honor said.
“Because he was the best person for the job,” Geneva said defensively. “He’s a good man.”
“He’s an opportunist,” Honor retorted. “I bet now that he knows you won’t inherit, his interest will begin to cool.”
Geneva almost let it slip that Rory had given her a promise ring but stopped herself just in time. Her relationship with Rory was private, and Honor had no right to expose her secrets to Jesse, not when their very livelihood would depend on him in the future.
“I think you should follow your heart,” Jesse said. “I always do. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”
“I always follow my heart too,” Honor said, and the way she smiled at Jesse nearly stilled Geneva’s breath.
It wasn’t the expression of an innocent young girl but a knowing, seductive smile that wordlessly showcased what was on offer. There was a reason Honor had brought up Rory. She was trying to discredit her sister so that she could have Jesse all to herself.
They left the pub and walked back to the car in silence. Without saying a word, Geneva climbed into the back seat next to the parcels, leaving Honor to ride shotgun, which clearly delighted her.
Geneva was glad there was no opportunity for conversation on the way back.
She had nothing to say to her sister, and little desire to speak to Jesse either.
As soon as they reached the house, she excused herself and went straight up to her room, relieved to finally be alone.
Suddenly exhausted, she stretched out on the bed, and fell asleep within moments.
A song she had heard that afternoon played on and on in her mind, though the melody sounded tinny and distorted.
She dreamed that the three of them were laughing and holding hands as they stepped cautiously onto a frozen pond.
Their new skates slipped and slid across the ice, and they nearly fell more than once before finally finding the courage to let go of one another.
Feeling braver, they skated in a widening circle, and then Honor began to twirl, her arms outstretched, her face lifted to the sky as fat snowflakes settled on her nose and cheeks.
She laughed, and Jesse caught her around the waist and spun her round, the blades of their skates slicing into the ice and sending shards flying.
The fragments glittered briefly in the light before scattering across the frozen surface of the pond.
Geneva fixed a smile on her face to prove she was enjoying herself and everything was just tickety-boo, but she felt unsteady and didn’t dare twirl, afraid she might lose her footing and fall.
Jesse set Honor down and reached for Geneva’s hand, pulling her along to the strange, unsettling music.
She was frightened but exhilarated, and she laughed with the sheer joy of being alive and trying something new and wonderful.
She was still laughing when the ice began to crack.