Page 5 of The Wrong Brother

“She’ll need rest,” he murmurs, glancing from Jenny to her father. “Keep her comfortable, and she should be fine.”

The doctor leaves, and her father exhales deeply, his shoulders sagging with relief as he thanks me again. I explain to him why I found her, but that’s it. I don’t mention the contents of the letter; he doesn’t need to know that I didn’t just step in to protect her. With what she had planned to do in that letter, she could have dragged our family’s name down with her. I’m stunned and furious. But in that moment, seeing her father’s gratitude, I can’t bring myself to say anything. I give him a nod and step back, lingering in the corner of the room, my gaze drifting to the letter I picked up on the way back to her room.

I smooth it out, glancing over her words again, letting them sink in. She wrote that she couldn’t live without Brett, that she’d rather die than see him with someone else. I shake my head, frustration mingling with a strange, unbidden sympathy. How could someone so young think her life is over just because she can’t get what she wants? It’s foolish. Reckless.

The faint strains of music drift up from the garden, a reminder of the party I should be overseeing, yet I find I can’t leave, can’t bring myself to move. I watch her, lying there so still, a girl caught in the whirlwind of her own feelings, her own illusions. Ireceive a phone call then from the party, and after it’s completed, I turn to her father, who’s still watching over her, his face softened with relief.

“During the commotion, one of the guests took notice of Jenny,” I tell him quietly. “She mentioned that Jenny would make a perfect model for her daughter’s fashion company in Paris. It’s a three-year contract…school included, if she wants it. I think it could be the best thing for her. Some distance. Some perspective.”

Her father is shocked by the sudden offer, his gaze flicking back to her, worry mingling with something else…hope, maybe. “This is good,” he says. “She hasn’t really ever mentioned wanting to be a model, but it’s what a lot of young girls love these days, right? Maybe she’ll be excited about it as well. She… she could use a fresh start. Somewhere she can find herself without all of this…” His voice trails off, but I know what he means.

“Can you leave me alone with her for a little while?” I ask.

Her father is startled by this but he seems to need the relief himself and so he nods and takes his leave.

When the room empties, I step forward, looking down at her pale face, her auburn hair spread across the pillow like flames. About ten minutes later she suddenly stirs, and her eyes slowly open, widening when she realizes I’m there. I’m just as surprised but relieved while she looks incredibly concerned and confused.

She probably has no idea what I’m doing in her room. To be honest neither do I but knowing now how unstable she is I cannot bring myself to leave just yet.

“Where were you going?” I ask. “Why were you in such a rush?”

She continues to stare up at me but doesn’t respond.

I know now that she is not going to tell me anything, but she doesn’t have to. For a moment I consider leaving the letter by her side so that she will understand that I know just how foolish she was about to act. However, at the last moment and at the pain in her eyes I decide against it.

It’s so easy to completely dismiss her frustrations and sadness because of how young she is. I understand it even though I despise it but for today, for this moment I decide to cut her some slack. She’ll be going to Paris. Perhaps she’ll get the chance from there to become more independent. To gain perspective and get rid of these nonsensical fantasies about Brett.

And so, I turn around without a further word and walk away.

Chapter

Five

JENNY

Idon’t even realize when I fall asleep again after Zack leaves, but when I finally come to, I’m met with a gentle murmur of voices around me. My head feels heavy, throbbing with a dull ache, and it takes a few moments for the room to come into focus. I blink, and the familiar face of Mrs. Finnigan, the housekeeper, leans over me, her warm hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

“Oh, Jenny, sweetheart,” she says softly, her voice full of relief. “We’ve all been so worried about you.”

I shift slightly, feeling the ache radiate through me, not just from my fall but from the heaviness that’s settled in my chest. Mrs. Finnigan’s hand stays on my forehead, her fingers gentle and warm. I try to give her a small smile, but it barely holds together.

As my eyes adjust, I realize that the room is filled with familiar faces…Mr. Collins, the butler, standing at the doorway with his usual quiet presence; Auntie Mae, the cook, sittingbeside me with her hand on my shoulder; even a few of the younger maids lingering just beyond the door, all of them watching with expressions of worry and relief. They’re all here, surrounding me, their faces filled with concern.

“You gave us all quite the scare,” Auntie Mae murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. She pats my shoulder gently, like she always does when she thinks I need comforting. “You have to be careful, love.”

Mr. Collins nods from the doorway, his usual stoic expression softened. “We’re just glad to see you awake and all right,” he says quietly. “Just… please, take care of yourself.”

Their kindness wraps around me, warm and soft, almost like a real family. They don’t know what I was really planning, don’t know the darkness I was slipping into. I wonder where the letter is… where it fell. I hope no one ever finds it. But it worries me that they might have, so I try to get up to find it, but they don’t let me.

“No, no, no more movements for you,” Mrs. Finnigan says. “You’re staying in bed for the foreseeable future, resting.”

I try to work up a smile, but all it does is send shame prickling up my spine, knowing that they all care so deeply, while I was willing to throw it all away. I nod slightly, feeling my heart twist as each of them takes turns speaking, their voices gentle, almost like a chorus of quiet, loving scolding.

My father steps forward, clearing his throat. I can see the lines of worry etched on his face, and it breaks my heart all over again. He doesn’t deserve this; none of them do. “Jenny, love,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “I’m really glad you’re okay, but for once there’s a silver lining to you wanting to give me a heart attack.”

I frown at his words, wondering what he’s talking about. He explains, “You’ve been given a chance. Paris. A fresh start.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice croaking. My throat is so dry. Instantly, he reaches for the jug of water by my side, fills up a glass for me, then hands it over.

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