These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(12)

The problem, however, was no longer convincing myself that she was kidnapped. The problem was convincing my parents to do something about it.





“AND THAT IS why we must travel to London to retrieve Rose.”

The parlor fell dead silent. Mother and Father gaped down at me over a wooden table cluttered with tea things. In my short chair, I felt like I was on trial.

I had explained everything to them: the clues in the letter, Rose’s strange packing, my inquiries at the inn, the sighting at the train station, and my general conclusions from all the evidence. Too much was amiss for there to be a simple explanation. Surely it would be impossible for them to ignore the signs.

Yet Mother managed to exceed all my expectations. “Your sister has acted somewhat rashly, yes, but she has always shown uncommonly good sense, and we are sure she will do so now by remaining discreet. We have already decided to wait until Rosamund sends word from London.”

A spectacularly awful plan. “Mother, I don’t believe she is there by choice. We may never get a letter from her.”

Both of them gave tight, condescending nods, as if I had concocted my own fantastic adventures in wonderland. My mother took a dreadful tone of authority. “It is entirely possible that in her hurry, your sister packed the wrong clothing and miswrote a few words in her note, is it not?”

“No! Of course not. And she wouldn’t forget her medicine bag or leave such blatant hints! Don’t be daft, Mother.”

“I am not the one proposing this wild theory,” she said, folding her arms. “What do you even mean for us to do in London?”

“Start a search for her.”

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “And if it turns out she really is helping this man, as she said in the letter, everyone will know she went to work as a doctor. Or worse yet, people will gossip and exaggerate and come to believe it an even bigger scandal. In any case, we cannot walk through the streets shouting her name, telling the police and publicizing this information. I have sent word to your aunt and uncle to give out that Rosamund is with them. If anyone asks to see her, she will be ill or in Bath. That is the way to handle this and preserve her reputation.”

“Perhaps we should worry about preserving her safety. Or her life.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I’m quite aware how bored you are of Bramhurst, but there’s no need to be so melodramatic.”

“This is not melodrama! You might trust me for once!”

“Evelyn, I know you. You’ve gone and gotten this idea stuck in your head, and now you’re too stubborn to give it up. But you must consider the whole situation.”

“And then do what? Just accept the most pleasing explanation with an utter disregard for any other possibilities?” I gripped the wooden arm of my chair, wishing I could crush it. They were ignoring everything!

My mother rubbed her forehead and glanced at my father, who was busy pouring himself another cup of tea. She changed tactics and spoke in a slow, soothing voice. “We have no other recourse. We’re in debt.”

What was she doing? Trying to distract me with poor jokes?

But the look of pity did not leave her face. “I hadn’t wanted that sort of pressure dictating your marriage, so we decided not to tell you, and I apologize for that.”

My mind was a blur. “What—how is that relevant?” I asked.

“There’s no money for your dowries. All we have to offer is our reputation, and if word about Rosamund gets out, we’ll have nothing.”

I took in their grave faces. “How . . . did this even . . . happen?”

My father struggled to look me in the eye. He took a sip of tea and spoke into the cup. “I’m—I’m sorry, Evelyn.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Please,” my mother cut in. “You’ve been through much today. Perhaps you need some rest.”

“You want me to take a nap?” I yelled. Hang it all, she was infuriating! I looked to my father, whose eyes were now aimed downward at a Turkish rug. “Father, you actually agree with this?”

“About the nap or—?” He cleared his throat and caught my mother’s eye before responding. “Yes, your mother is right. It would be wise to be prudent,” he said.

“Ha! Like you were prudent in handling our money?” I asked, rising from my seat. I tried to be respectful, but it had come to this. “Thank you for all the help. I will see you both when I find Rose.”

I stormed out of the parlor and bounded up the staircase. My mother’s footsteps followed. “You are not going to London!” she called from the foot of the stairs.

“I believe I am.”

“No. I won’t have you running around there and jeopardizing everything for us.”

“Then I won’t run around. I’ll walk.”

She was silent. I never stopped. There was no need to look at her. I knew the expression of suppressed ire well. Just before I slammed my bedroom door shut, her voice rang out once more.

“If you leave this house, do not plan to return!”

Very well. If bearing the Wyndham name meant caring more for the name than the actual people who bore it, I’d rather not be associated with it.

Furious, I rummaged through my closet, unearthed a trunk, and started packing it. I had not planned to leave so abruptly. Now I had to determine everything about my trip in a matter of minutes.