Page 82 of The Vanished

“You spoke to your father just before you left. I thought you might be upset.”

“I am upset. And I also feel hurt and betrayed.”

She had not meant to be so frank, but, once they’d touched upon what had until now remained unsaid, she could not seem to stop herself.

“Why, Jesse? Why did you agree to marry me? You hardly know me. And it’s not as if that’s a condition of the entailment.”

Jesse met her gaze with an uncertain smile, and, for the first time since they’d first met, she realized that he was not entirely sure of himself and might even be a little insecure, despite his confident demeanor.

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” he confessed.

“I’m sure you’ve met women you found attractive before,” Geneva countered.

“Of course I have, and in some cases the feeling was mutual,” Jesse replied. “But they were never special to me. I felt no urge to better myself to impress them, and the thought of losing them caused me no real pain. They came and went, and though I may have enjoyed their company for a time I never imagined a future with any of them.”

“And you imagine one with me?” Geneva asked, taken aback by his candor.

“I dream of a future with you, Geneva,” he said quietly, “though I know you have little reason to feel the same. I’m not the sort of man you were brought up to marry. I’m not university educated, nor particularly sophisticated, and I would never quite belong among your set. But I aspire to be worthy of you. I want you to have all the things you believed would be yours when you grew up in this house, on this land.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Geneva faltered.

“Say you’ll think about it.”

“Jesse, the New Year’s Eve party is a week away. That’s not a lot of time to make such a weighty decision about my future.”

He nodded. “I realize that. But think how happy it would make your father. He would die easy knowing you were loved and cared for, and that your children would carry on his legacy. And if, at any point in the coming months, you felt you had made a mistake, you could always change your mind. I would understand and release you from your promise.”

“How do I know you wouldn’t try to manipulate me?” Geneva asked.

Jesse sighed, as if she had wounded him deeply with her mistrust. “I’ve made an appointment with Mr. Lefferts. He’ll be in his office on the twenty-seventh, and I’d like you to come with me.”

“What for?”

“I intend to draw up a document settling an allowance on both you and Honor, so that you may be entirely independent of me, should you wish it. You would never have to see me again after your father is gone.”

“Would you go back to New York, then?” Geneva asked. She could not bring herself to voice the question at the forefront of her mind: whether he would marry Honor if Geneva refused.

Jesse smiled, though there was sadness in it. “I suppose so. If you cannot see your way to loving me, then there is nothing here for me. I would have no choice but to sell the estate.”

“You would sell Bellamy Hall?” Geneva exclaimed.

“What alternative would I have? If I’m not staying in England, I have no use for any of it. The proceeds would purchase a sizable house on Long Island, a place where my future family might live. And I do intend to have a family, Geneva,” he added quietly. “I’ve been alone for far too long, and after the horrors I witnessed during the war I’ve learned that the only thing that truly matters is having someone who loves you—and loving them in return.”

Geneva nodded, finding herself unable to speak. She had not expected Jesse to offer her any reason to seriously consider her father’s proposal, but his honesty—so raw and unguarded—gave her pause.

“Genny,” he said gently, “will you think about it? Please?”

“Yes. I will. But I really must go back now. I’m freezing.”

“It is rather arctic out here,” Jesse said with a grin. “I can’t feel my face.”

“Neither can I,” Geneva replied and realized she was smiling.

FIFTY

Although in considerably better spirits than when she’d left, Geneva was no less conflicted when she returned to the house and joined Honor and Rose, who were trimming the tree. The two girls chatted like magpies and oohed and aahed over every bauble that came out of the box, and Geneva realized that they truly were happy. Rose was thrilled to have broken out of the prison that was the house in London, and Honor, although deeply saddened by their father’s illness, was still a child at heart and believed that the adults would figure things out and her life wouldn’t be affected overmuch with the changing of the guard. Which put all the more pressure on Geneva.

For years, she’d gone without any hint of romance on the horizon, and suddenly there were two men who cared for her and needed an answer from her by the end of the year. Geneva supposed it made it easier to know that Honor would be provided for either way, but the choice she made would affect her sister regardless. Why did this all have to happen now? Geneva thought as she lifted a silver star out of the box and held it up to the light. The ornament glowed in the weak winter sunlight and reminded her of Edwin, who had chosen the star when he’d spotted it in a shop in London. He had been gone by the following Christmas, but the star was still there, a stark reminder of the brevity of life and the importance of seizing the moment.