Page 98 of Reckless Kiss

“Why is that?”

She did not like the sound of that.

“They have summoned us. We have to be in the study at six. Cook told me we have a guest for dinner, and Father and Grandfather want to introduce us. That’s why I’m waiting here for you.”

“I wonder who it is?”

“Probably a new investment Grandfather wants to get involved with. It’s not enough that he has the wedding business and Edward Hall filled with guests weekly. He leases every business property on Copper Island and owns every square inch of land. Grandfather probably wants more. Next, he’ll want the sky. How can one man be so greedy?” Freddie said with so much disgust it was a wonder why Freddie didn’t run away and denounce his lineage.

“What do you care? You’re hardly here now. You’ve finished school. You could go anywhere.”

“Just waiting for my results, and I’m planning my escape. This place is like a museum, no place to live a life. Father and Grandfather will live for decades, so I don’t need to care about Turner Hall, Edward Hall or Copper Island. By the time you inherit, you’ll have kids of your own. You’ll run the place when they die as firstborn, and I’ll be free to do whatever the hell I like.”

Cynthia whipped her face to the side like someone had slapped her. Freddie was painting the perfect picture of no responsibility and, at the same time, landing everything on her shoulders. She was the eldest, so the inherited land would go to her, but she didn’t think she would run Turner Hall alone. Something shifted inside her, making her more determined to tell her father about her plans to marry Jonathan and move out.

“I’m not staying at Turner Hall. I’m moving out,” she said.

It wasn’t to Freddie. She was putting it out into the universe.

“I don’t care, Sis. Live your life. You only get one. Please don’t get bogged down in the traditions forced on us. It’s no way to live.”

It replaced her joy of an afternoon with Jonathan, with a melancholy and a sense of dread. She looked up the flight of stairs like it was the pathway to her doom, not her suite of rooms.

“What time does Father want to see us?”

“Six, he said don’t be late, and to be dressed for dinner,” Freddie said and pushed off the wall, then ran up the stairs two at a time.

Cynthia watched as he ran out of her eye line, feeling like she wanted to run in the opposite direction. Their father was in his fifties, and their grandfather was in his nineties but behaved much younger. The men in her family lived long, healthy lives, and, at times, she thought her grandfather would outlive them all.

Checking the delicate gold watch on her wrist, she startled into action to get ready for dinner. Cynthia was thirty years old but still did as she was told. She wasn’t her own woman until she left her father’s clutches. Then Cynthia would belong to her husband, who would have to give written permission for her to buy anything.

Cynthia didn’t need a house because she lived in a mansion and would soon live in a cute terraced house. She didn’t need a car. Everywhere was walkable on the island. Cynthia hoped in the years to come, she would be freer and the laws would change. Not that she needed them to, but she would like the choice to buy a car if she felt she wanted to.

Within an hour, Cynthia was bathed, dressed and ready to enter the study, yet she lingered in her suite’s living room. Nothing in the set of rooms was younger than fifty years. The settees were from a bygone era, and so were the carpets, curtains, tables and lamps. Freddie’s speech about freedom to do whatever he wanted weighing heavy on her mind while she took a bath. Never did she feel more trapped than she did in the last hour.

Cynthia was madly in love with Jonathan, and he returned her feelings. They had a future mapped out, with kids coming soon after they married. At thirty, she didn’t want to waste any time. Jonathan’s job as a teacher would have a decent salary to see them through while she raised their children. Cynthia intended to work at the port offices for a year to save money. She wanted to know what it was like to earn a living and have money to spend as she wished.

Living at Turner Hall, she didn’t have any money. While Cynthia didn’t need any money because she lived at the house, she craved financial independence. The kitchens prepared three meals a day. Her mother organised shopping trips for clothes twice a year, so she had a summer and winter wardrobe. She was warm and fed. What more could she need? Freddie made her want more. The vast rooms and high ceilings were closing in, and whether it was her impending announcement or knowing Freddie would leave soon, she felt like she was suffocating.

Clawing at the neck of her orange and white floral dress, she popped the button at the nape and let the front of the garment fall to her waist. It fastened at the neck and was backless. She stared at her reflection, her bare breasts heaving up and down as she gulped in air. Cynthia cupped her left breast, lifting it to admire the purple mark Jonathan had left earlier when they got lost in their lovemaking. She stroked her thumb over the brand like she never wanted it to disappear. A feeling of dread came over her. When the bruise had gone, so would Jonathan.

A rap on the door startled her, and she quickly brought the front of her dress up and attached the clasp.

“Yes?” Cynthia called out, looking in the full-length mirror to make sure she was decent.

The door opened, and her mother walked in. She wore a full-length, deep purple dress with long sleeves and frills at every edge.

“Come along, dear. We don’t want to be late. My father won’t be happy if we embarrass him with tardiness.”

“Coming, mother,” Cynthia said and gave the mirror a side glance, practising her smile.

They descended the stairs side by side, and the nearer Cynthia approached the bottom step, the louder the men’s laughter became.

“Sounds like they’ve already started on the whiskey,” her mother said, looping her arm through Cynthia’s crooked elbow.

“What’s this about this evening? I wanted to talk to you and Father about my plans.”

“Well, that’s perfect. Your father wants to talk about your future, too. So it’s all falling into place nicely.”

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