but then snapped it shut. Emotion welled up inside of her as the reality of what she’d done sunk in. She’d managed to keep herself on an even keel since Grace had arrived. The dark moods were far less frequent and she felt as though she was beginning to climb out of the depths of her grief.
Was that because time had passed or was it because she’d had Grace to raise? For that’s what she was doing, behind Rose’s back. She’d given Grace everything that had been meant for Charlotte, all the womanly wisdom that she possessed. And had Rose Byrne been any other mother, she might have had a right to be jealous.
But Geneva had saved their lives. She’d picked them up off the street and given them a place to live, fed them and clothed them and even educated Grace at no small cost. Rose at least owed her a little understanding and gratitude. Unbidden tears began to roll down her cheeks and Geneva found it difficult to breathe.
“Bring her here,” she said in a strangled voice. “Tell her I must speak with her again.”
She closed her eyes and laid back, drawing in slow, deep breaths to try to quell the pain that was now pounding in her brain. There had been a time, in the not too distant past, when her life had been so right, when she’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Now, it was filled with confusion and regret, fear and loss. Would she ever feel happy again?
CHAPTER FIVE
EDWARD DRAGGED THE TRUNK INTO his bed chamber and left it at the foot of his bed. His mother stared at it critically, her hands hitched on her waist. “We really ought to buy a new trunk for you. It wouldn’t do to have you arrive at Harrow with that tatty old thing.”
He shook his head. “Mother, it doesn’t need to be all shiny and new. This trunk has seen a lot of the world. I’d prefer it. It will make me appear well-traveled.”
“But Malcolm had a new trunk when he went to off to school. You should, too.”
“Malcolm has always been more concerned with appearances,” Edward murmured. When his brother had left for university last fall, he’d required an entirely new wardrobe, including six suits, eight pairs of shoes, three hats and a cashmere overcoat. And not one trunk, but two. Edward assumed the fine clothes were to make up for his brother’s lack of academic acuity.
He ran his hand over the scarred surface of the trunk, examining the stickers that told the trunk’s history. “When did you go to Istanbul?” he asked.
“Your father went there when he was just out of university. He did the grand tour. My parents only allowed me Italy and France. And here is our honeymoon,” she said, pointing to another sticker for New York. “We went to America on the maiden voyage of the Olympic, Titanic’s sister ship. Your aunt Fanny and uncle Richard lived there before they moved to California. I was seasick the entire way, but it was a wonderful trip. Your father nearly decided to stay and find his fortunes there. Just think, you could have been born an American.”
Geneva crossed the room to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. She studied the contents, kept tidy by the upstairs maid, then shook her head. “This will never do. You’ll need new clothes.” She turned and faced him. “We’ll just have to leave a bit early and do some shopping in London before we deliver you to school.”
“We could always just go to Dublin and find what I need at Clery’s.”
“At a department store? No matter how much your father complains, our family fortunes have not sunk so low that we are forced to shop at a Dublin department store for your wardrobe. Your father will take you to his tailors on Savile Row, and have suits made for you. We can have them delivered to you at school when they’re finished.”
Edward forced a smile. “I don’t think Father will have time for a trip to London.”
His father had been even more preoccupied with business since the spring elections and Edward doubted that he’d accompany them. De Valera was now in charge of the government and he advocated a complete break with Britain and a sovereign Irish nation including those counties in the north. He abolished the oath of allegiance to Great Britain and withheld British land annuities. In turn, Britain imposed a twenty-percent duty on all Irish imports—including wool. The coal business still flourished, however, since Ireland had in turn imposed a tariff on the imports of English coal.
“And I certainly don’t need a new wardrobe. One or two suits will do. We wear uniforms most of the time.”
They hadn’t traveled to London for years, not since his mother had been caught up in the world of spiritualists and psychics. Once Grace had come to live with them, Geneva had seemed content to remain at Porter Hall.
She pulled a jacket out of the wardrobe and held it out in front of her. “There is an exhibit of French paintings at the National Gallery that I’m wild to see. And, of course, we must attend a concert or two. We’ll do some shopping and—” She smiled as if struck by a sudden idea. “Since your father won’t go, we’ll take Grace. Oh, it will be a wonderful trip, the three of us. Edward, go fetch her. Now. We’ll tell her all about it.”
“Mother, I’m not sure that Rose would agree. You know how she can be.” His mother had been much more careful with Rose’s feelings since she had nearly walked out two years ago and taken Grace with her. But lately, Geneva had become obsessed with Grace again and Edward sensed that another confrontation was just on the horizon. He had hoped it might happen before he left for school. That way, he would have the chance to smooth it over and soothe hurt feelings before either party took drastic measures.
“She agreed to let me hire a tutor for Grace, didn’t she? This is just another educational experience. Every young lady should see the great capitals of the world. And Dublin does not count,” she added, wagging her finger at Edward. “Now go. And bring her back. I want to give her the good news myself.”
Edward wandered out of the room, convinced that he wouldn’t be able to change Geneva’s mind. When it came to Grace and what she believed the girl needed, Geneva could not be dissuaded.
After the last row, it had taken nearly a year for Grace to feel comfortable again at Porter Hall. Her mother had gone so far as to pack their belongings and convince Farrell to drive them to Dublin. Grace had been hysterical, begging her mother to relent. It had taken Edward an entire day of pleading before Rose had finally accepted Geneva’s apology and agreed to stay—with a substantial raise in pay.
Taking Grace to London was a bold move. Unless… Edward smiled. Unless the invitation came from him. Perhaps if he presented his case, then Rose might agree. And since he was going away to school, it would be a chance for the two of them to have one last adventure together.
He found Grace in the yard, hanging bedsheets to dry in the warm breeze. Her dark hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon and she wore a simple cotton dress. “I know my love and well he knows,” she sang softly. “I love the grass where on he goes.” She continued to hum as she reached into the basket and withdrew another sheet.
He snuck up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, causing Grace to scream in surprise. She turned and punched him in the shoulder. “I’ll die of fright one of these fine days,” she said. “And you will stand at my grave and weep, Edward Porter.”
“I will not,” Edward teased. “I’ll be glad when you’re gone. You’re a right pain in the arse, Grace Byrne. And I haven’t a clue why my mother would even consider taking you to London.”
She blinked in surprise, her mouth hanging open.
