The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(74)

“But—”

Genevieve took a step toward her. “No, I am not.”

“But—”

“My own sister, Geraldine, has just come up from the country for the first time in months. She’s heard so much about you, and she wants to meet you.”

That made Amanda more nervous rather than less. What if Geraldine didn’t like her? She knew how close the two sisters were. She didn’t want Genevieve to be ashamed of their friendship.

“Have I ever led you astray?” Genevieve demanded.

She hadn’t. “That isn’t the point.”

“Then just this once, Amanda.” Genevieve threaded her arm through hers. “This once, I’m going to ask you to trust me.”

Looking down into her friend’s blue eyes, the determined set of her chin… She couldn’t say no. She didn’t dare disappoint Genevieve.

Genevieve turned her in the direction of the parlor and guided her to the door. She disengaged Amanda’s arm only long enough to wrestle the door open. “Ladies,” she announced. “She is here.”

Amanda recognized Geraldine instantly. She looked so very like her sister—blond, blue-eyed, a sweet smile on her face—but with a little more of the plumpness that came from bearing children. But it was the woman sitting at her side that made Amanda’s heart stutter.

She was tall and dark-haired. She was also plump and smiling a little. But her smile had a sadness to it.

“Maria?” Amanda could not make herself move into the room.

Her next-youngest sister. The last time she’d seen her, Maria had told her she wanted nothing to do with her. Amanda couldn’t believe that Genevieve had done this to her. All her old fears assailed her. She wanted to turn on her heel and run away, before Maria could do the same in response.

But Maria didn’t run. She stood, raising one hand to her mouth. “Amanda.” And then she held out her arms.

Amanda didn’t know how she managed to cross the room and navigate around the table. Her gown caught on a teapot; she was dimly aware of Genevieve behind her snatching it gracefully before it upended itself.

But her sister was in her arms. Maria didn’t hate her forever. She hadn’t ruined absolutely everything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in her sister’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Amanda gulped back a sniff. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. But when she pulled away from her sister, she saw Maria’s eyes wet with tears, and found she couldn’t help herself.

Genevieve handed her a handkerchief.

It was some ten minutes later—ten minutes of incoherent exclamations, of taking her sister’s hand and being unable to let it go—before she no longer needed to dab at her stinging eyes.

“Maria,” she said. “Why are you here? I thought…”

Her sister blushed. “You thought I hated you. I did. At first. Mama and Papa told me it was your fault I didn’t find a husband that first Season. I thought you had ruined my life.”

“It was,” Amanda said seriously. “I did.”

Maria didn’t respond to this. Instead she looked out over Amanda’s shoulder. “That’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. I did marry down. I resented you and Aunt Violet for years. And then… One day, I realized that the scandal you caused meant that the man I had married truly loved me. He’d married me for me, not for what I could bring him.” Her lip curved up in a smile. “I discovered I loved him, too, and I stopped feeling so bitter.”

“I’m glad.”

“But I don’t think I understood how badly I had erred until I had my daughter. She’s so…so bright, Amanda. She’s only five now, and the other day, I found her reading Pilgrim’s Progress aloud to her younger brother. I want you to know her.” Maria’s eyes glistened once more.

“Oh, Maria. I would love to know your daughter.”

“I started listening to what I said to her. When she was three, I told her that she couldn’t contradict the boy next door, even when she’s right, because it’s indelicate for a lady to disagree with a gentleman. I told her that she mustn’t run, because ladies never hurry. Every day, from the moment she took her first step, I’ve told her to stop: to stop thinking, to stop speaking, to stop moving about. And I didn’t know why I said any of it. Those words kept coming out of my mouth, passing through me.”

Amanda reached over and gripped her sister’s hand.

“I think that’s when I understood that you only ruined my life because my life needed ruining. Because the life you rejected demanded that I spend all my time telling my daughter to be less and my son to be more.”

“I wasn’t trying to save anyone,” Amanda said. “Just myself.”

Maria gave her a wavering smile. “Well. I started reading your paper a year ago. I would sit at breakfast with your essays and imagine that you were sitting across the table from me. That you had forgiven me for the horrible things I said to you. And then Miss Johnson came to me.”

Genevieve and Geraldine were sitting across the table from them, both silent. Geraldine wiped a demure tear from one eye. But Genevieve was smiling—a fierce, brilliant, perfect smile, one that Amanda could feel from three feet away.