Page 46 of The Vanished

“Then let’s make this Christmas special,” she said. “It’ll be like old times. We’ll get a twelve-foot tree and decorate the house with holly. And you and I can go to Midnight Mass at St. Michael’s.”

“He’ll want to come too,” Honor muttered, clearly referring to Jesse.

“So let him.”

“It’s never going to be just us again, will it?”

Probably not, Geneva wanted to say, but this wasn’t the time for honesty. “It will always be just you and me,” she promised. “The Bellamy girls against the world.”

Honor nodded, but Geneva could see she didn’t believe it. She was already grieving their father and the life they’d had, and her pain would only become more acute in the coming days. It wasn’t the bricks and mortar Honor was afraid to lose but what was left of her family, and her perceived place in the world. If Jesse took Geneva away from her, she’d be on her own, a third wheel for a two-wheel carriage. And she was terrified.

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?”