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This time, when she met the eyes that had winked at her, stared longingly into her own, she saw an unfamiliar expression there: fear. “I tried. But it wasn’t meant to be.”
Louise stood, pressing a hand to the buttons of her tightly-fitted jacket, trying to breathe deeply through a wave of dizziness. Then, hearing a door close somewhere in Windward Hall, she glanced to the upstairs hall, the door to the kitchens, the entryway just behind them. There were other questions she wanted to ask Oliver, details about what, exactly, he’d told Father, but not here, where anyone might be listening.
Without thinking, she reached for the locket around her neck, the one with the sketch of Oliver she’d made last month tucked inside. No, she would not give up so easily.
There was only one thing to do now, what she ought to have had the courage to do from the first. “I’ll speak to him myself, then.”
His voice followed after her. “You’ll only make things worse. Louise...”
But she was already three steps into her charge toward the stairs, then down the hall and through the doors without knocking—breaking the most sacred rule of the Cavendish household by invading the chamber where Father was not to be disturbed.
He looked up from a paper he was scribbling on, distant blue eyes focusing to a startled expression, then one of resignation. As if he’d expected her arrival—or dreaded it.
“Father,” she said, hands clenched in fists, “what is the meaning of this?”
“I believe I made my meaning perfectly clear.” He gestured to the door, and she yanked it closed. “Please keep your voice down, Louise. I know you’re upset, but I have a terrible headache.”
Oh, he was about to have worse than that. For twenty-four years, she had been the model child, the one with perfect marks in school, irreproachable manners, and a church attendance that would rival that of any saint—not that Father had noticed any of it.
But finally, it was time for a tantrum, one that he’d long had coming. Best to be clear from the very start. “Oliver and Iwillbe married, Father, with or without your approval.”
Of all things, Father sighed. As if this were merely a girlish fancy, soon to be set aside, but troubling his peaceful summer in the meantime. “You won’t believe me, I’m sure, but here is the truth of it, Louise. I would be concerned, of course, if you’d determined to marry outside of your social circle. But that is not why I refused to give Mr. Goodwin permission to marry you.”
“Then why?” she asked, even while knowing that no answer he could give would be enough.
But the words that came from his mouth were gentler than she’d expected—and harsher—all at once. “He does not truly love you, Louise. Of that, I am quite sure.”
“H-how would you know?” If he dared say something about the novels he read, as if that made him an expert on the lives of the real people around him whom he largely ignored...
Father began to speak, then closed his mouth. When he continued, his voice was like a man speaking to a startled mare, soothing to avoid being trampled. “You’ll simply have to trust me. I will not let you ruin your life, child.”
Perhaps he’s right.The thought came without warning, voiced by that terrible, irrepressible instinct for practicality. After all, Oliver was practically penniless. Without Father’s support, how would they get by?
No, they would manage somehow.
“Nowyou begin caring about my life and choices?” she fired back, crossing her arms protectively around herself. “After allthese years? You might not have noticed, but I’m not a child, Father. Not anymore.”
He’d lost those years, after her mother had died a decade ago, when he’d sent her and her brother Matthew off to boarding school. Burying his grief in a garden of Mother’s favorite flowers, burying his face in his precious books, rarely raising it to look them in the eye, even on visits home.
To his credit, Father had the grace to look ashamed, but only briefly. “The fact remains that, though you are a grown woman, you are my daughter. And as such, I am responsible to protect you.”
“From the man who adores me?”
“As I said, I doubt that. At least, he certainly seemed eager enough to take the generous severance package I offered him after refusing him your hand in marriage.”
This paused the sharp reply that she had already begun to prepare. “I...”
Oliver had accepted money from her father to leave? It wasn’t possible. He’d promised.
Even as she thought it, she remembered the defeated look in Oliver’s eyes.“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“In fact,” Father went on, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already packed his trunk to depart on the next train.”
Only effort and the knowledge the staff might overhear kept Louise’s voice down. “You threatened him, then bribed him to abandon me?”
“I gave him compensation for dismissal from my staff,” Father corrected. “He’ll find another position—without a letter of recommendation from me, mind—and if, once his finances are stable, he still wishes to marry you, perhaps I’ll reconsider.”
Never had a hesitantperhapssounded so promising, carrying more hope than he’d given her before. Louise clung to it for a moment before seeing a familiar hardness in her father’s eyes.
