Page 3 of The Best-Kept Secrets
“They make it a difficult thing, imagining the two of them as gentlemen grown.”
“For my part,” Eve said, “I assume they’ll be very much as they are now, only older. Still mischievous, still entertaining, still pulling each other into often-ill-advised adventures.”
Mother looked down the corridor in the direction the boys had gone, though the space was empty now. “Life has a way of extinguishing sparks.”
That was a heavier declaration than she usually made. The O’Doyles were known for laughing through difficulty, smiling through trouble. ’Twasn’t dishonesty or pretended happiness. They took quite seriously the struggles they had and the reality of life. But laughing helped keep them going. Smiles kept them from abandoning hope.
“Has something happened?” Eve asked, studying her mother’s unusually pensive expression.
“Let’s gab a minute in the Royal Pavilion.” Mother motioned to the door nearest them.
The family had long ago christened the absurdly tiny sitting room, one big enough only for two spindle-back chairs and a side table and nothing else, “the Royal Pavilion.” Comparing a space so tiny to an ever-expanding palace so ornate that it was almost unfathomable was very much in keeping with the family’s odd sense of the ridiculous.
When Mother closed the door behind them, Eve began to truly worry. “Now you have me fearing someone’s dying or something,” she said as she sat in one of the chairs.
Mother sat as well. “I’d not wanted to tell you this with Nia nearby. And your father and I had not wanted to send you to your house party with difficulties on your mind.”
That was ominous. “Máthair?” she pressed when her mother didn’t immediately continue.
“The cargo ship your father invested in has not reached any of the ports it was supposed to.” Worry pulled at Mother’s features. “Several others that departedafterours have already reached those ports and continued their journeys. We can only assume it has been lost at sea, along with all the linens and textiles aboard. I have been telling myself that the crew all managed to escape in rowboats or something of that nature and survived whatever catastrophe happened on board. I, of course, know that ’tisn’t necessarily the case.”
Eve’s heart ached at the thought of so many lives lost. She did not take that lightly. But she also knew that the crewmen, whom she also hoped had somehow survived, were not the reason her mother had pulled her into the Royal Pavilion for a private discussion.
“If the ship never delivered any of its goods, then the investment is entirely lost?” Eve posed it as a question but felt certain she already knew the answer.
“Entirely, and with it all the money we invested and all we’d hoped to earn.”
If the room weren’t so shockingly small, Eve might have risen and paced, which was an odd inclination for her. “How bad is that loss going to prove for us?”
“Fortunately for us all, your father is willing to take risks, but he is not a gambler. He knew that even if this investment failed, we’d not be left destitute. And without at least trying, our fortunes were unlikely to ever reverse.” Mother’s response was a little evasive.
“You needn’t be afraid to tell me the truth of it. You know me well enough to know that about me, I hope.”
At last, Mother offered a bit of a smile. “You’ve always preferred direct talk and interactions free of obfuscation. Your very sincere and open disposition did worry us a little when you first went to London. Town Society can be very... rejecting of those who don’t bend when thetondemands it.”
“We’ve Artemis to thank for Nia’s and my not failing that first Season.”
A very maternal sort of affection entered Mother’s eyes for a moment. “I am grateful to Artemis for so many things. What an angel she has been.”
Few in Society would describe Artemis Jonquil, née Lancaster, as an angel. In Eve’s estimation, half thetonwas intimidated by Artemis, and the other half was jealous. It was, of course, an oversimplification. But those who were fortunate enough to truly know Artemis were well aware of how remarkable she was.
“We aren’t at risk of losing Tulleyloch or starving or anything truly horrific like that,” Mother said. “But we need to eliminate a significant expense somewhere. Your father and I have discussed it up one way and back the other, and we’ve but two options. The first is to pull one of the boys out of school.”
Eve shook her head. “They both have to find a profession, and neither is likely to manage it without an education, unless you send them into the army. But neither is the least suited to that.”
“Their tuition and lodging are expensive,” Mother said.
“But it is necessary.” Eve, of course, knew that her parents understood that. Thinking out loud had always been her way when she was sorting something difficult. “What is the other option?”
An added measure of hesitancy filled Mother’s expression. “We could save quite a lot, nearly half of what we currently spend, if only one of you girls has a London Season next year. Even then, it would be a very curtailed Season.”
It was, in actuality, a logical and sensible solution. But the thought of either her or Nia not returning to London dropped like a weight on her heart.
“As the oldest,” Mother continued, “it would be expected and entirely reasonable for you to be the sister who returns. No one would give that a second glance. And should you make a match, Nia could return the Season after that.”
Eve hadn’t made a match during the Seasons she’d had thus far. While she was not one to drown in discouragement because a hope hadn’t yet borne fruit, she had to admit her chances of meeting, falling in love with, and marrying the gentleman of her dreams grew slimmer each year. She would be twenty-two by the next Season. That didn’t put her in the realm of old maid, by any means, but it tiptoed her in that direction.
Nia, on the other hand, was younger, and even that one year of additional youth was a helpful advantage.
