Merry Misrule - St. Clair, Ellie Page 0,43
with you.”
“That son of a—”
“Careful,” Caroline said with a slight smile, “we all have the same mother.”
He let out an exhale at that, not completing his prior thought, and Joanna couldn’t help but laugh slightly, although with a sigh.
“I will have to get to the bottom of it,” he said. “But Caro, was there something else on your mind?”
“Oh,” she said, somewhat hesitant now. “I, ah, was hoping to speak to Joanna about it.”
Elijah sat back in his chair, his jacket straining over his broad shoulders when he crossed his arms over his chest, and Joanna allowed herself a quick moment to appreciate it.
“I will leave you if you choose,” Elijah said, “but I must ask, Caroline, does this have anything to do with the footman?”
“His name is Samuel Thatcher,” she said, sitting tall in her chair as though to tell her brother that she didn’t appreciate him questioning her feelings toward him. “And you are invited to leave, Eli, if you don’t have anything nice to say.”
“Caro,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, “it is not that I am trying to undermine your feelings or intentions toward him. I just feel as though I need to make sure you understand what it would mean for you to continue this infatuation. If you actually want to be with him, you would have to give up everything for him. Your status, your home, your life as you know it.”
“I’m not stupid, Elijah,” she said, her face screwed up in consternation. “Do you not think that I am aware of all of this? Furthermore, none of that means anything if I cannot be with the one that I love.”
“I know, Caro,” he said, his face softening, “I just wanted to make sure.”
“Besides,” she said, with a quick look in Joanna’s direction, “how is what I feel for Samuel any different from what you feel for Joanna?”
Joanna swallowed hard. She and Elijah may have kissed, but they hadn’t exactly discussed any feelings for one another before, and she didn’t think he was about to do so in the presence of his sister.
“That’s different,” he said, his face hardening.
“How so?” Caroline countered, and Joanna had the sudden urge to leave them and allow brother and sister to talk this out among themselves, but it seemed she was frozen in place, unable to move away from the tableau in front of her.
“Because,” he said carefully, as though he was trying to answer her without saying anything regarding his own specific situation, “a woman joins the man’s life. It doesn’t usually go in the other direction.”
“But it could.”
“I suppose,” he hedged. “But do you think Father would accept a footman joining the family?”
Joanna knew what Elijah was trying to say. Yet at the same time, his thoughts caused an ire to begin simmering in her stomach. Was this how he characterized a person? By their station in life?
“Any more than he would a seamstress?” she couldn’t help but say, and both Elijah and Caroline turned to her in surprise.
“Joanna,” Elijah said, his tone contrite, “I never meant—”
“I know what you meant,” she said, suddenly ashamed for allowing her hurt feelings to take over the conversation, “but still. Something to think about, I suppose.”
They were all silent for a moment as they seemed to reflect on all that had previously been known, but somehow, now that it was out there, away from their lips and into the world, it had taken on such more weight.
“Why don’t I come with you, help you prepare for dinner?” Joanna asked Caroline, sensing her need to speak to her alone. “Thank you, Elijah, for the chocolate,” she said, lifting her cup to him and then taking it with her.
He nodded in return, although his gaze was troubled, his eyes searching, and his melancholy seemed to be catching as Joanna’s steps became heavier in turn.
She tore her eyes away and followed Caroline up the stairs, sensing her friend’s unease but not understanding the entirety of it until they finally entered her bedchamber and she closed the door behind her.
“Joanna,” Caroline whirled around and gripped her hands within her own. “We are leaving. I need a couple of days to prepare, and then we will go in the middle of the night. Or the morning. However you would like to say it — in the wee hours, so that we can make it to Chearsley by first light.”
Joanna stood frozen and stared at her friend with wide eyes.
“You and Thatcher?”
“Well, of course,