Page 6 of Brian and Cora
“I suspect you two will spend a lot of money on stationery and stamps,” Rose said in a dry tone.
“Ivy wants to be a teacher. We’re hoping wherever I end up, she can join me there, finding employment as a schoolmarm or governess.”
Cora looked down at her shabby gray skirt and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have to get a new wardrobe.” She plucked at the dreary fabric of her skirt. “I’m never wearing brown or gray again. I’ll commission a new Sunday dress and a new everyday dress right away. Do you mind if I leave them here? I don’t want Step-mamadiscovering them. Good thing she’s expecting and keeping to her room. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put it past her to take my dresses for herself.”
“You’re not yet twenty-one. Your parents can forbid you to leave.”
They’d better not even try. “I’m not telling them until I’m gone.” They’d lock me in my room with just bread and water, if that. She shot Rose a determined look. “You are not to, either. Besides, I’ll be twenty-one in six months.”
Rose made an impatient sound. “I cannot, in good conscience, keep such important information a secret. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
Guilt squeezed Cora’s chest. She hated causing pain to her beloved great-aunt. But even more, she hated what her life would be if she stayed. “Well, then, I won’t confide in you, so you’ll have nothing to tell them.” She airily waved a hand. “This is just a conversation of wishful thinking.”
Rose bit her lip, apparently considering, and then sighed. “Very well. As much as I dislike the idea, I’ll say nothing to your father.” She held up a hand. “But you must keep me apprised of all your plans.”
Relieved, Cora clapped her hands together and brought them to her chest. “Oh, Auntie Great, you’re the best!”
“Furthermore,” Rose narrowed her eyes in an uncharacteristic expression of sternness. “I do not like the idea of you traveling to Montana unchaperoned.”
Cora seized the opportunity. “Then you’ll have to come with me,” she quipped, not daring to show the seriousness of her suggestion.
“Oh, no!”
“Why not?”
“Why…because my life is here.”
How can I make her see what I see? “Is it really, Auntie Rose? Really? Grandpapa is gone. You’re no longer working at the library. You’re not close with Papa or the children. What kind of life will you have here?” She didn’t wait for Rose to answer. “No life, that’s what.”
She’s so close. Just another push.
Rose opened her mouth as if to disagree and then clenched her jaw. Abruptly, Cora stood and strode to the desk in the corner, avoiding stepping on the books scattered on the floor. She pulled open the side door where Grandpapa kept the correspondence he’d received from friends and took out the fat one on top of the stack, glancing at the front to make sure the letter was the one she wanted.
She handed the envelope to Rose, who took it, looking as if Cora had given her a viper. “This letter came on one of the days when Grandpapa insisted you go outside for fresh air and exercise and let me stay to nurse him. Remember? The day it rained, and you came home wet because of not having an umbrella.”
Rose shuddered. “Drenched to my petticoats.”
“Grandpapa wasn’t strong enough to sit up, so I read the letter to him.” Cora smiled at the memory. “What Mr. Bellaire wrote made him laugh. I did, too.” One of his last good days. She didn’t let her smile dip. “Those two were quite the dashing young blades in their day. Well, not so young. I believe Grandpapa was twenty-nine when they met. Isn’t Mr. Bellaire a similar age? She tapped a finger on her chin, thinking. “No, I remember his last birthday here in New York. He’s three years older.”
“He’s fifty-four.” Rose tried to give the letter back, but the shaking of her hands betrayed her agitation.
Interesting that she remembers. Cora pushed Rose’s hand. “Read it, Auntie. Please?”
Raising the letter ever so slowly, Rose began to read.
Cora eagerly watched her every expression—from stiffness, to softness, to smiling, to a laugh.
“I’d forgotten that.”
“What?”
Rose merely shook her head.
Frustrated, Cora made herself remain patient until Rose sighed, folded the letter, and tucked the pages into the envelope. “Mr. Bellaire is such a wonderful man. I wonder why he never married.” She slanted a look at Rose. “He’ll make some lucky lady a fine husband.”
“He’s far too old for you.” Rose said sharply.
Cora hadn’t considered Rose would think she was interested in Mr. Bellaire. But was that a spark of possessiveness she saw in her aunt’s eyes before she glanced away? She decided to press a little harder. “Some qualities in a man are ageless,” she said airily, giving an artless toss of her head. “Mr. Bellaire is attractive, kind, educated, a good friend, and generous. Oh, and rich.”
