Phoebe’s cheeks burned hotter. “What would you do as his wife, hmm?” she challenged Joanna. “You cannot sit in a rowboat without turning green, much less a seafaring vessel. Is it your desire to live in his residence by yourself, forever waiting for him to return from this place or that place?”
I have always wanted to see the world,her mind murmured out of nowhere, bombarding her thoughts with old dreams of India, China, Persia, the Americas, the lands of the Ottoman Empire and the Russian Empire, exploring the continent of Africa—so many places she had imagined from her tiny corner of England.
“Ellen can visit,” Joanna said bluntly, smiling to herself. “It would be worth it to be the envy of the entire ton. Besides, you should know better than to believe rumors, Phoebe. Everything in those scandal sheets is nonsense, fabricated by a few bored individuals who have nothing else to do with their own uneventful lives.”
Ellen nodded. “I will live with her.”
“And what of your husband, if you should find one?” Phoebe asked, exasperated. “Do you think he would allow you to go and live with your sister?”
Ellen shrugged. “If he would not, then he would not be a good match for me. Or, perhaps, we would have a marriage of convenience and he would not care, considering it will likely be you who chooses the poor fellow for me.” She smiled. “You and I do not have the same taste, dear sister.”
“I am doing my best,” Phoebe said quietly, her mind tearing into pieces, fragmented between dreams of far-off lands, the breath of Daniel’s words on her skin, her ruined gown, securing a fortuitous future for her sisters, and trying to be a mother and an older sister at the same time, feeling like she was failing at both tasks.
Joanna took her hand and kissed it. “We know, dearest sister. We know, but as Ellen said, your tastes are not the same as ours. You ought to letuschoose.” She grinned. “And I choose to be the most famous lady in the ton. A countess more renowned than even the Countess of Grayling! After all, the Earl of Westyork is the wealthiest man in England.”
Phoebe balked, covering Joanna’s hand with hers. “I… forbid it.”
“Pardon?” Ellen said coolly.
“I said, I forbid it,” Phoebe replied, matching her sister’s tone.
Joanna made a strange, strangled sound. “You are just jealous of me,” she wailed. “You are bitter because I have gained the attention of such a man, while you shall never have any!”
“I am not jealous, I am acting in your best interests,” Phoebe insisted, wishing she had just held onto Joanna’s hand for a moment longer, saying nothing. But she had learned how to be the mistress of difficult things, climbing over every obstacle as it came her way. Just because a discussion was difficult did not mean she would not have it.
Joanna wrenched her hand away. “Admit it, you are jealous! You cannot stand to see us happy, so you have plotted to make us as miserable as you are!”
“I am not miserable,” Phoebe said, genuinely surprised by the accusation. “Caring for the two of you has been my greatest honor. And Idowant you to be happy, which is why you are forbidden from courting Lord Westyork, should he decide to call on you and request such a thing. He cannot possibly make you happy, JoJo. You need affection and attention, and lots of both—he would not give you that. He would give you loneliness, and, yes, he may be very wealthy, but money will not lift your spirits when he has abandoned you again.”
Ellen also seemed surprised. “Taking care of us has been your greatest honor?”
“Always,” Phoebe replied. “I have dedicated my life to the pair of you, and I do not regret one day… except the day you put a frog in my luggage, and the time you dropped a worm down the back of my collar, and when you hid that fish under my bed, and perhaps the evenings where you have lain in wait in my chambers, to jump out and scare me half to death. But, mostly, I have no regrets.”
Ellen went quiet, gazing down into her lap as if suddenly ashamed.
Meanwhile, Joanna railed on about the injustice of it all. “I do not even like him that much, but now that you have said I cannot have him, Ishallhave him! You cannot prevent it. If you do, why, I shall put a thousand frogs in your luggage and a hundred worms down your collar and a sea of fish beneath your bed!”
From the other side of the carriage, their father awoke sharply, rubbing his crinkled eyes. “What is the meaning of this awful din? Restrain yourselves, at once!”
“She began it,” Joanna muttered, folding her arms across her chest and slumping back into the squabs.
Their father, Brook Wilson, the Viscount of Woodholme, arched an eyebrow, his attention fixed on Phoebe. However, it was Joanna who told him what had happened, lurching forward as the events of the night and Phoebe’s prohibition poured out of her mouth in a weepy torrent, her voice becoming shriller and shriller.
“So, tell her!” she demanded. “Papa, tell her that I can court the Earl if I please!”
Brook yawned. “Joanna, do be quiet. You are causing quite the headache.” He stretched out his legs and leaned against the side of the carriage, closing his eyes once more. In a weary voice, he added, “Phoebe understands these things better than you or me, so listen to her and do not disobey. She knows what she is doing.”
“Papa!” Joanna gasped.
He waved a dismissive hand. “If you wake me again with your girlish woes, I shall not be pleased. Phoebe has always done what is best for us. I doubt this shall be any different.” He cracked open an eye as if remembering something. “Phoebe, were you able to… settle matters with that awful butcher?”
“I was.” Phoebe nodded. “He was rather apologetic, in the end.”
From the age of three-and-ten, thankfully gifted in the realm of arithmetic and after a great deal of her own research, she had taken over the estate’s ledgers, quickly learning how to balance them and ensure that she and her family were not left destitute. But she had not done it entirely on her own, for her father’s valet had been an invaluable source of wisdom and knowledge when it came to the estate’s debts, affairs, incomes, and expenses, teaching her what she needed to know in those first fledgling years. In some ways, he had been more of a father to her than Brook, though she would never have admitted it aloud.
Brook smiled and closed his eye. “What would we do without you?”
“Be free,” Joanna muttered.
