Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Rafe believed the day must begin with a fit meal. Herring was not what he considered a good start. In fact, herring rather dampened the outlook on a good morning altogether.And runny gooseberry pie did not account for much either.

The nasty fish permeated the air before he made his way to the breakfast room. The early day's sun already bled through the bank of stained windows and illuminated the musty hall last decorated around the reign of Henry VI.

Christ, this house was a mausoleum.

His stomach rumbled as he took the last corner with a long gait, whistling as he entered the cavernous morning room. He swiped a biscuit from the table and tore off a corner in his mouth before he proceeded to the sideboard for anything other than herring.

"I see you are here after all," Henry said. Rafe's brother, not the late departed king. Though most times, his brother shared the same tyrannical tendencies.

"Of course," Rafe said with a wide smile, crumbs spilling out of his mouth as he heaped eggs onto his plate.

"I wasn't certain since I haven't seen you much the past few days. I can often count on you to make meals. "

Rafe spun around and saluted his older brother. "My duty, of course."

Henry nodded, sighing as Rafe speared a ham steak and laid it over the heaping pile of eggs. "Why must we endure herring at every meal?"

"It is what we have. I surrendered the ham, so I would not have to suffer your complaints about the herring."

"Very brotherly of you. Well in that case, there is plenty more of that ghastly fish for your meal. Would you like some?"

"No."

It was a simple answer, but Henry's disappointment all but hit Rafe over the head. A set down was always hidden under simple words. It was in Henry's nature to be exceedingly efficient, even without speaking the direct truth. Rafe was half-convinced their parents had traded in a boyish Henry for an automaton.

He wished Henry would just be forthright with shaming Rafe over the life he led. It would make small conversations involving the sharing of ham over herring easier to stomach.

Rafe gazed down at the ham heaped over his plate and grimaced. Perhaps he should share. He set the plate down on the scantily dressed table with a wobbly leg and folded his long body into the too small chair. He flashed a coy glance at Henry, then dove into the food on his plate. He could share tomorrow when he wasn't ready to eat an army of elephants.

"I have some interesting correspondence here." Henry tapped his hand over a stack of opened envelopes.

The delicious forkful of eggs lodged themselves in Rafe's throat as he jerked back in surprise. He grabbed his coffee and took a giant gulp, sputtering as it scalded his tongue. He thought he would have a few more weeks at least before the replies came. Though he had been fairly certain no such woman existed when he had placed the advertisement seeking a wife.

"Ah, so you know the matter I am referring to then. I never knew you to waste a bite of breakfast. "

He couldn't help what happened next. The cheeky smile was spreading across Rafe's face before he could censor its appearance.

"Would you care to explain why this advertisement," Henry asked, his voice growing colder as he thumped the newspaper on the table, "appeared in the paper?"

The grin was bad enough, but when Rafe began laughing, Henry appeared as though he would leap across the rickety table and strangle his younger brother. His brother had been instigating his promotion to captain in London, seeking out their father's friends now in the admiralty. Rafe didn't appreciate Henry prying. This was only payback, and perhaps enough of a distraction that Henry would leave well enough alone.

"I was simply doing my part in finding you a wife now that you have inherited Cliffstone Manor and a title."

"There was no need."

"No? You are hardly the charming ladies' man, Brother." He was much too busy pouring over law books or scowling over one thing or the next. What a miserable business being a barrister must be.

Rafe stabbed his knife into the ham steak and tried to defy the size of his mouth with a large bite.

"You eat like a caveman."

Rafe grinned again, glancing up to catch his brother's lack of amusement. He couldn't remember much of the events surrounding his father's passing, but he was certain Henry acted the part of a disapproving father like a champion. "So tell me, did you find a love match in those letters?"

"I do not need a wife."

"Nor do I," Rafe muttered under his breath. Wives were best left for other men, certainly not for a man in the Navy who never knew when he'd be at sea and for how long. He wanted no part in wives or weddings or that love business.

"These replies are from women, desperate in some cases, seeking better circumstances. And you gave them hope of finding that by your joke when there is none to be had with me."

There it was finally—disappointment in full view. Somehow, it was still easier to swallow than the herring that sat on the sideboard, smelling up the musty morning room.

Rafe reached for the stack of letters and made a cautious blow over his coffee before taking another sip.

"You don't think of the consequences of your foolishness. Ever."

Rafe nodded along to his brother's set down, skimming over sentences filled with life histories of women in search of a husband.

"Their life might depend on a union with me?—"

"Such a humble opinion of yourself," Rafe mumbled, taking one last swipe of his fork over his breakfast plate.

Henry talked over the metallic scraping against the china. "And the request was a lie. I have only just moved here. I am still new to my title and responsibilities. Half of this house is unsafe to occupy until the roof is replaced. I am in no position to take a wife."

Rafe had been trapped at this house with Henry for three long, barely tolerable months. The word "just" was an excuse. He never accepted it from his sailors, and he wouldn't from his brother either.

"Of course, you are. You have a new home that desperately needs managing, not to mention needing an heir."

"You agreed to help with managing the estate if I remember correctly. You jumped at the opportunity to leave behind London."

"Jumped infers I was eager, which I was not. I was very inebriated and eager to leave the gaol, and there is a difference."

Henry scratched his temple, his dark brown eyes glaring at his brother. "You have the opportunity to become captain of your own frigate. Imagine."

That was the problem. He could imagine being a captain, and while for the longest time that was all he had craved, for the past two years, he no longer wished to continue in the Navy. But what was he to do? Once a navy man, always married to the sea. He didn't know the first place to start in making a life on land.

Despite the years, Henry's resentment of Rafe, being a navy man like their father instead of him, hadn't lessened. It was a quick burning hurt that lingered behind his older brother's constant disappointment in his character .

Rafe stared into his empty coffee cup and grimaced again. He had a life once with purpose, but he had lost himself somehow. Well, not somehow . He remembered perfectly what had happened, though he wished to forget. He would welcome his mind to become a black void of those days. Wholeheartedly and with outstretched arms.

"What do you wish me to do?" he asked, sure that if he could make Henry somewhat happy, then life might be a little more pleasing than it was at present.

"I want you to write back to these letters with an apology. I want you to consider re-enlisting."

"Hmm." Rafe's attention drifted to a letter on crisp paper. One that smelled of apricot and cinnamon.

I must be honest and confess that I am not as tall as you requested. I feel I do compensate for this unfortunate vertical deficiency by the elevated height of my character.

Rafe reread the line of the missive once more and chuckled. This woman seemed like the opposite of the ridiculous requirements he had outlined in the advertisement. He continued reading, his attention snared tighter than when he had spotted the ham at breakfast.

I am strictly of the mindset not to swan about. It is a waste of one's time. I am cheerful, generally enjoyed by the company I keep with the exception of my stepmother. And on the matter of five thousand pounds ? —

"Are you listening?"

"Sure." Rafe waved his hand, knocking over his coffee. He cursed under his breath and wiped off the letter. At least it had only been a few drops, but it was still smudged. He slumped back in his chair. "Whatever you wish, Henry. I'll see it done."

His brother responded. It sounded a lot like so much and so forth and you're an utter disappointment . Rafe didn't care much. He'd had twenty-nine years of listening to his brother's criticisms. They all sounded similar by now.

Rafe glanced up after rereading the letter once more to discover the table empty. He perched at the edge of his seat and leaned forward, examining the hall, then glanced out at the terrace overlooking the ocean.

Calm. Dark as midnight. No swells.

Clear of any present danger.

But he had sailed enough to know the horizon kept secrets.

He shouldn't have tucked the woman's letter into his jacket, just as he shouldn't have sent a reply that evening instead of an apology.

But Rafe rarely followed the rules.

"Give it back now, Mary!"

Lily groaned, grabbing a handful of covers, pulling them up to her chin, then rolling over in bed wishing to be anywhere else.

Every morning it was one thing or another. Always an argument over something small that her stepsisters considered a catastrophe. The bickering continued in the hallway, and a bedroom door slammed shut.

"I will not. I had it first!"

Mary, Thea, Amelia, and Jane. She loved them, in spite of them always viewing her as an enemy. If only they would stop their constant arguing when she was trying to sleep.

Then the dogs began yipping, and she heard her stepmother storming down the hallway.

"We do not slam doors like that. It is not ladylike, Thea."

Amelia sprang into the bedroom Lily shared with her and Jane. "Mary is going to be in trouble," she sang. "Time to wake up, Lily."

"I am awake. It is near impossible to sleep in this house."

"So grumpy."

"It's because Felton didn't marry her," Jane added, popping up beside Lily's bed. She bashed her rag doll over Lily's face, causing Lily to sit up and sputter.

"Jane, I would love to play, but can Baby not be so forceful with me?"

"Impossible." Jane, tenaciously six years old, frowned. "She is a woman of conviction, and you are sleeping in too late. You are a sloth. "

"I believe you are referring to the deadly sin and not the animal?" She shook her head. "No matter, I don't see what that has to do with me not getting bashed in the face by a ragdoll," Lily grumbled, rubbing her forehead.

"You wouldn't," Jane said in a singsong voice, twirling away.

Across the hall, Thea and Mary continued arguing.

"Fine, I am up." Lily grabbed her wrapper from off the back of the chair by her bed. She had been up much too late writing again. Her hands were stained with ink, and her index finger was sore from clutching the quill so tightly.

Amelia sat on her bed, opposite the small room from Lily, and twirled a daisy in her hand. "They are arguing over the kittens again."

"I see. Perhaps they should…"

"No," Amealia said, jumping down to the floor. "They don't wish to hear advice from you. You wouldn't know what it's like to have sisters."

It was always like this. Such careless comments slipped into conversation as if they were shards of glass ripping away at Lily and her love for her family. She bled for them, and still, it wasn't enough.

"You are my sister, Amelia," she said earnestly, pushing past the hurt swelling in her chest. "You and Jane, Thea and Mary. And I am glad you have come into my life."

Jane swung her baby doll violently from side to side, then laughed. "Don't be daft. We aren't your sisters."

"Your mother married my father," Lily said, bracing for their inevitable pushback.

"And then we were stuck with you," Thea said, pushing through the door. She wiped at her red cheeks. "Jane, you stole my green shawl, and I need it back."

"You let me borrow it," Jane said, sinking down to her knees by the edge of the mattress so Baby could continue to dance on top of the patchwork quilt.

"Where is it, Jane?' Thea turned toward the wardrobe and tore the doors open, tossing out clothes as she searched for the missing article of clothing .

"See, Mother," Mary screamed, marching into the room and pointing a finger at Thea. "She is on a rampage this morning. Everything is hers. And that kitten was mine."

"That kitten doesn't belong to you or Mary," a cold voice announced from the hallway. "The kittens will be given away. The dogs don't like cats in the house, and I don't, either. Unnatural creatures. They belong outside."

The dogs howled as if in agreement from the drawing room.

Lily's stepmother strolled into her bedroom, crossing her arms. "Girls, I expect better. Honestly. And you," she said, pointing to Lily, "it is way past acceptable to be finding you still in bed."

Before Lily could answer, her stepmother looked at her hands and scoffed. "I don't see how we will ever find a husband for you if you insist on spending your nights writing."

So, she was to be cruel this morning. Very well.

Her stepmother possessed only two moods—hysteria or viciousness.

There was no middle ground, and of the two, Lily much preferred the first. The latter only made her miss her mother, or rather, some imagined life where her mother was still alive. She barely remembered her now, but Lily liked to think she was much kinder.

"Good morning, Mama."

Her stepmother scoffed again, glancing at the desk and the stacked manuscript pages Lily had poured over only hours earlier.

"What a waste of your time."

"I think it's a project very much worthy of my time. Don't you wish for the girls?—"

"Don't you dare speak to me about my daughters. They will be raised as proper young ladies. This"—she waved around at Lily's desk stacked with books, illustrations of the constellations, and her manuscript—"is why men don't find you a suitable match. Men find an educated woman too intimidating."

Right. She should make herself smaller and be comfortable with the life she'd been given as long as she could draw decently, speak a little French, and play the piano. It wasn't the first time her stepmother insisted on such nonsense. And each time, Lily wished to snap back that insecure men were threatened, and she refused to believe every man was comfortable with such a dynamic.

Lily picked at the hem of her wrapper, sitting with that insult for a minute.

"I have worked very hard," she said at last, addressing her lap. She was certain if she looked at her stepmother and the woman's dull gray eyes that she would cry.

"Mary, Thea, it's time for your piano lesson. I will meet you downstairs in a moment."

The pair pushed and shoved each other, trying to beat one another out of the door.

"Ladies, why have you woken this morning to test my nerves? I swear to the Lord above you will drive me to an early grave. Mind your manners and I will let you keep a kitten."

The girls muttered out in the hallway before the bickering began again over which kitten they would keep. Meanwhile, Jane continued dancing her ragdoll around the room.

Her stepmother lofted her nose and pointed toward the emptied wardrobe. "Amelia, this mess is unacceptable. Pick it up at once."

"It was Thea."

"It is your room, and no lady of your upbringing should ever allow her clothes to be strewn about the floor like… well, no matter. Pick it up, then it is time for your lessons as well. Jane? Jane?"

Jane twirled, narrowly escaping a collision with Lily, but tumbled into the desk. Manuscript pages flew into the air, and her inkwell tipped over. A puddle of ink began seeping into Lily's hard work.

"Deportment!" her stepmother shouted. "Why do I have the most ungraceful daughters? Jane, leave us at once."

Lily scrambled to pick up the ink, even as Amelia and Jane watched from the doorway. Her stepmother remained frozen, casting only a withering glare at Lily.

"I will not save someone who wishes not to save themselves. And this preoccupation of yours will end because it must. You have shamed this family. Twice. We will now be lucky if we can find a husband for you who even possesses a title. The scandal that you have caused because of your fascination with the stars…"

"About that," Lily said, sitting on her knees on the floor, clutching a pile of pages sticking this way and that. "When can I have my telescope returned to me? It's been locked away since before the wedding…"

"And you are still not married. It will remain mine until that day. If it happens."

"That telescope is very dear to me. It belonged to my mother."

"As you love to remind me so often. You sound like your father. It is not the time to be overly sentimental. I will keep the telescope safe, and you may have it back once you are married. Until then, you must stop writing all night. It's ruining your complexion."

Her complexion? Lily reached for her face, suddenly remembering her fingers were covered in ink from the inkwell.

What was wrong with her complexion?

"I assure you that my complexion is the least interesting thing about me."

"Men don't care about your brain. They were graced with one for a reason, and women have other matters to concern themselves over. Pick up this mess, then come downstairs. You can supervise the girls' piano lesson. This morning has been too taxing, and I feel a headache coming on. I am going to lie in bed."

"Yes, Mama."

She swore her stepmother shivered, as if repulsed by Lily addressing her that way, before she slinked off down the hallway.

Amelia muttered, flinging a few items into her wardrobe before falling to her knees, crying.

Lily understood far too well.

She picked up her pages and placed them on her desk, sorting out what she could. But the ink blob on the top pages had seeped into several pages below, and she would need to rewrite those. That was precious time she would never recover, and her time was running out if she remained in this house with her father and stepmother. They would marry her off to the first man they could, solely to be rid of her.

But she wouldn't allow it.

"Would you like help, Amelia?"

At ten, Amelia best liked to act as if she were as tough as her older sister Thea, but she wasn't. Lily would hear her whisper stories to Jane under the blankets when her younger sister couldn't sleep, or practice piano with Mary when she had a difficult time learning a new song.

"Thea ripped apart my wardrobe. I don't understand why I am being made to clean up her mess."

Lily crossed the room and sank down on the floor. "It is hard having to pretend all the time."

Amelia scratched her head. Her honey-blonde curls bounced wildly as she puzzled over Lily's statement. "I don't wish to always be taking care of everyone else."

"That is what older sisters are for."

"Mary is a horrible sister. She only wishes to talk about ribbons and gowns and balls. Do you know at Miss Breaken's dance last week that Mary kissed a boy! I would never."

"I am your sister as well. And I will help you now. As for kissing, I can't give you any advice there."

"Because no one wishes to marry you?"

"No one has ever stopped to ask if I wished to marry them as well."

"Thea gave me her green shawl. I don't understand why she thinks she can storm into this room and tear apart my wardrobe because Mother won't allow her to keep a kitten. We all know Mother will allow her to keep a kitten, no matter what she says."

If Lily remained here at her father's house, she would slowly wither away because day after day everyone who lived here wished to chip away at Lily's love of life. They all wished for her to act and be a certain person only to feel better about themselves. And she couldn't stomach it any longer.

She stood and reached down for a few dresses, carefully slipping them back onto the hanger. They were all fine gowns for living in a fine house while preparing to live a fine life as a wife and mother .

"Amelia?"

Her stepsister glanced up at her from her spot on the floor.

"Do you know where Mama keeps the key to her closet?"

The girl grinned with wide eyes before catching herself. "I might."

"I will clean all this up for you if you can help me with something."

Her stepsister stood up, then walked to her bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress. "I am interested but not only for cleaning up this mess. You know how Mama can be if you touch her things."

Lily would never forget the time she moved her stepmother's book to another table in the parlor so she could spread out a few drawings.

"Name your price. I only need you to fetch me that key. I will handle the rest."