“Sorry I’m late, Charles,” she said, chuckling. “But I’m here now. Shall we eat? I’m starving.”
Charles got carefully to his feet, looking thin and wasted beside his strapping sister.
“You are exhausting me already, sister,” he remarked, only half-joking, and offered an arm to escort her into the dining room.
***
Eleanor felt guilty over encouraging her father to cancel Aunt Florence’s dining with them. Charles began to perk up at his sister’s endless chatter and rollicking jokes. Aunt Florence had a way of soothing the atmosphere around her, and soon they were all laughing and talking, eating heartily and feeling normal again.
When the dessert wines were served, Aunt Florence cleared her throat with a tremendous noise, a sure sign that she had something to say.
“Now,” she said, eyeing them both over the rim of her wineglass, “I will be hosting a ball for my birthday this year. It’s going to be a remarkable one, andeverybodyis coming. Dukes, duchesses, earls, barons, the works. It got a mention in the gossip columns already. I assume you are both coming, yes?”
Charles nodded enthusiastically, but Eleanor looked away.
“Eleanor?” Aunt Florence pressed, a hint of sternness in her voice. “I know you don’t particularly enjoy Society, but can I count on your attendance?”
Eleanor coughed. “I… I’m not sure I’ll add much to the celebration, Aunt.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Florence!” Charles gasped, and his sister waved a dismissive hand at him.
“Eleanor, you must come. I insist upon it.”
“We can have a celebration for you here, Aunt. It’ll be like having two birthdays,” Eleanor tried desperately.
It did not work.
Charles leaned forward, eyeing his daughter above his pince-nez.
“I think you ought to go, Eleanor. You’ve been too long out of Society. I worry for you, frankly.”
“I… I’m too busy, mostly. The business requires…”
“Enough about the business,” Charles said, sharply enough to make her flinch. “You are a woman, Eleanor. A lady. You ought to be thinking of your future, not wasting time in the business.”
“I’m not wasting time,” Eleanor argued back, even though she knew it was a mistake and would only ruin the evening. “I want to pursue working in the business.”
“Nonsense.”
Just like that.Nonsense. Just like that, Eleanor’s dreams of inheriting the business and working alongside her father as anequalwere dashed, in one brusque, thoughtless word, and a wave of her father’s hand.
She swallowed hard, shoulders sagging.
“Papa…”
“I have indulged you too much,” Charles muttered, shaking his head. Aunt Florence had gone quiet, which was remarkably unusual for her.
“I’m happy with my life, Papa,” Eleanor murmured.
Charles leaned forward. “There is a life outside our work. A world of friends and suitors, of excitement and intrigue. And, yes, of marriage and perhaps a family. I would be a poor father if I didn’t help you to see that.”
“Don’t you think of marriage, my dear?” Aunt Florence asked gently.
Eleanor bit her lip, recalling the disgusted looks on the faces of various men when she told them about her work.
“Not very much,” she lied. “It seems like something of a trap to me. I see plenty of women stuck in what can only be described as servitude, bearing endless children, their dreams ground to dust.”
