Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
Ravenglass
Geneva had known it would be a sad Christmas from the moment her father had imparted his news, but it proved even harder than she had anticipated.
Douglas was so weak that Dennison had to help him down the stairs and settle him in the drawing room.
She could not remember ever seeing her father without a suit and tie on a festive occasion, but now he sat hunched in a pair of corduroys and a knitted cardigan, a rug drawn over his legs.
He had lost weight and was so pale that his skin resembled melting wax. His eyes shone dully in the firelight.
His hands trembled as he accepted the gift that Geneva and Honor had bought for him—a first edition of Dickens’s Our Mutual Friend, one of his all-time favorite novels, ordered specially from a London bookseller.
It had taken them some time to settle on a present; nearly everything they had considered had felt like a cruel reminder of all the things he would never do again.
A book seemed the safest choice. He still enjoyed reading, or, if it became too much for him, someone could always read to him.
Geneva met her father’s gaze over the rim of her glass and saw the question in his eyes. He needed her answer.
“Douglas, are you sure you still want to have the New Year’s Eve party?” Clarissa asked. “Surely it will be too much for you.”
Douglas smiled sadly. “I do. I would like to say goodbye to my friends, and I would like to see this year out in style.”
“I do hope you realize that Rose and I cannot attend,” Clarissa said. “We’re still in half-mourning, so we will keep to our rooms.” Rose’s eyes filled with angry tears. “We will leave on the first train on January the first. If you would instruct Grady to take us to the station.”
“Of course,” Douglas said. “But I do wish you would reconsider, Clarissa. Surely it’s no disrespect to Gerald’s memory if you join us for supper. It would mean a lot to me if you were there.”
“Oh, please, Mother,” Rose pleaded. “Can we?”
Clarissa lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders, and Geneva was certain she would refuse. It must have been the sight of her brother, who was so diminished by his illness and desperate to enjoy one last happy evening, that made her relent.
“All right,” she said. “We will join you for supper, but we will retire to our rooms before the dancing begins.”
Rose still looked mutinous, but she had to take the victory. “Thank you, Mama,” she said meekly.
Clarissa nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. “When I accepted your invitation to come for Christmas, I never thought it would be to say goodbye. Had I known…” Her voice trailed off, and Geneva wondered what her aunt had been about to say.
Would she have refused the invitation to spare herself the pain of seeing her brother for the last time? Would she have been better prepared for what was to come? Or might she have tried to negotiate a financial settlement before he died?
“Goodbyes are important,” Douglas said. “I never got to say goodbye to either of my boys.” He set the book aside with a trembling hand.
“It wouldn’t have changed what happened, but I would have liked the chance to tell them that I loved them and I was very proud of them both.
” His gaze settled on Geneva. “Just as I’m proud of my girls.
They were raised to be selfless, dutiful women who understand the importance of family.
Especially when our family has grown so small and dependent on the goodwill of others. ”
Douglas raised his glass. “Jesse, I would like to thank you for accepting my invitation to come to England and to continue the Bellamys’ legacy.
I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m sure you have an exciting life back in New York, but I think you will learn to love this place.
And I know you will take good care of my girls. I’m putting my faith in you.”
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down,” Jesse said somberly.
Sadness mingled with anger in Geneva’s heart as everyone drank their sherry in silence.
Douglas Bellamy was issuing his final orders, and he expected them all to obey, even Clarissa, who should have been allowed to come out of mourning on her own terms. No one had the right to tell someone when to stop grieving, and, although Rose was clearly desperate to rejoin the living, Clarissa’s mind was just as obviously still very much on the dead.
“Jesse, did your family have any Christmas traditions?” Douglas asked as he set down his glass with a trembling hand.
Jesse smiled ruefully. “We didn’t have any traditions.”
“But surely you celebrated the blessed day of our Lord’s birth, Mr. Bellamy?” Clarissa inquired with her usual haughtiness.
“We went to church and had a roast dinner afterwards.”
“Were there any unique customs in Montana when you were growing up?” Rose asked.
“Not that I can recall.”
“But surely Americans celebrate Christmas differently,” she pressed.
“I really can’t speak for all Americans, Rose. Every family has its own customs.”
“What would you have done today if you weren’t here?” Honor asked. “Would you have gone to your coworker’s house again?”
Jesse was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. “I was invited to my employer’s home for Christmas this year.”
“A sure sign of respect,” Douglas said and nodded his approval.
“My boss has two unmarried sisters. I suspect that was the real reason I was to be included.”
“It would seem you have become an even greater catch,” Aunt Clarissa said spitefully. “You will no longer be expected to pay court to dried-up old spinsters.”
“I didn’t seek this out, Mrs. Bellamy,” Jesse said. It was evident he was affronted by Clarissa’s insinuation that he would romance his employer’s sister to get ahead.
Geneva could not help but feel a measure of sympathy for him.
Everyone behaved as though Jesse had been handed a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but perhaps he did not welcome the responsibility that came with his inheritance and was simply too polite to admit that he had little interest in the Bellamy legacy.
Her father had placed him in an impossible position, attempting to extract a promise by hook or by crook, when Jesse might have been far happier had he been allowed to make his own choices and select his own bride.
He had sounded sincere when he’d declared himself to her on the beach, but it was equally possible that he had been doing what he believed was his duty to the family.
Geneva desperately longed to shrug off her own obligations and live life on her own terms, or at the very least on her own schedule, but it seemed that was not to be.
Not when her father’s gaze bored into her, his need to know that she would capitulate blatantly obvious.
Geneva gave a small nod, then turned away. She couldn’t bear to see the elation that came over his face.