Page 27 of Margins of Love
“I cannot give Carol any more moneyandpurchase an emerald of historic proportions,” Gustav cast up his arms.
Fave’s chest filled with the strength of hope in his father’s actions. He had always admired his father and his keen sense of business. Fave’s sense of justice, however, prevented him from accepting Bustle-Smith’s blackmail as a tax on the Jews. Therefore, he was wonderfully pleased to hear that Gustav had not paid her off again as a side-effect of his dealings with the ton.
Gustav turned to Fave and Lizzie when they reached the stairs.
“But you, my darling daughter, must watch your every step! She will be uncontrollable.”
“More than usual?” Fave asked mockingly.
By his father’s look, Fave had not grasped the severity of the situation. He dropped his smile instantly. It was not a joking matter.
“Your mother informed her of your betrothal. You are safe, son.” Fave’s eyes narrowed to a pinch and he turned to Lizzie. “You, however.” Gustav took Lizzie’s hand between both of his. Hers was small and fit completely into her fathers’.
Lizzie’s posture evoked strength, but her knowing eyes were pierced with inconceivable pain. She gasped and turned to Fave. “Father, you said she knows about the marriage?” Her head darted back and forth between her father and brother. Their gazes were puzzled and attentive.
“When did Mother tell her?”
“Yesterday, before dinner. Why does it matter?” Gustav could not follow her.
“Fave, oh no…” Lizzie’s eyes locked into his curious stare.
“She put you with Ms. Newman—Rachel—at dinner after she found out that you are betrothed. She does not like Rachel and only invited her, because she has some interest in her father. They have not been in London long, and it all seems rather mysterious.”
Fave did not like how his sister was framing the good fortune he had had of dining with Rachel last night. To him, it had been such a marvelous match. However, Fave had to give Lizzie credit for her authority on such particulars. He was inclined to believe Bustle-Smith’s conniving schemes and knew she would be capable of the worst maneuvers.
“She is pushing her onto me to rid the ton of her? You don’t think…”
“Oh, I do.” Lizzie nodded vigorously as Fave’s mind connected the pieces of information with their hostess’ suspicious behavior.
“But why?” Gustav asked.
“Why indeed?” Fave was terrified for Rachel. If she was in Bustle-Smith’s line of fire, she could be shunned from the ton for no fault of her own. And yet, there was sufficient interest on their hostess’s part to invite her family to the house party. What Lizzie had asserted to be their hostess’s intention, Fave did not dare to doubt. It seemed probable given Bustle-Smith’s behavior, and was contradicted by nothing but his heart’s fears.
“I will speak to your mother. See what you can uncover in the meantime.” With these words, Gustav walked away, still clamping the catalog under his arm.
A moment of perplexed silence passed between the siblings, as they scrambled for footing in the avalanche of hostility here at Bustle-Smith’s country house.
Fave gave his little sister a reassuring hug and asked, “Will you be all right?”
She nodded, despite her insecurity. They were treading on paper-thin ice over a bottomless ocean of Bustle-Smith’s malicious gossip. Whoever said that words could not cause more damage than swords had clearly never been to this countryside lair. Even though Fave’s and Lizzie’s objectives differed, their obstacles converged in the one and same Bustle-Smith.
“Her eyes were on me before anyone began to groom me for the season, brother.” Her wistful smile chipped a piece off his heart.
Suddenly Fave realized that he preferred to stay true to his grandfather’s pedigree, carrying on the Cohanim privileges, even if it meant taking a stranger for his wife. The dichotomy between his fate and that of his beloved sister brought clarity to his mind, that he hoped would spread to his heart with some nudging of his own volition. In moments such as these, he thought he could manage to marry a stranger. Rachel’s tender kiss after tea, forgotten. His little sister needed his protection and sacrifice. He had a duty to his genealogy and he could not disappoint his parents.
“It will be years before…” Lizzie’s voice trailed off as she choked on a tear. She took the picnic basket from Fave. Her knuckles whitened, so strong was her grip on the wicker handle.
To spare her the embarrassment of being caught alone in the hallway, and also because Fave thought she had endured enough pain for one day, he said, “Fetch your maid and get some rest.”
Fortunately, Lizzie was younger than Fave, and her spirits healed faster than his own. Thus, her cheer returned rapidly. “I will sneak some marzipan from the kitchen before I go to my room.”
And with the mention of marzipan, Fave realized that he missed Rachel. He had only known her a few days, spoken to her but three times, kissed her twice, and the air was insufficient for his survival without her. A curious melancholy settled over him as he considered his dilemma. He had to marry a stranger as a wide-sweeping obligation to all that was dear in his life, but he could only think of Rachel in his heart.
CHAPTER21
April 8, 1813.
At the crack of dawn,the air always felt a little fresher and Fave’s mind a little clearer. Outside the orangerie, the gardens’ hills and valleys were nestled in the morning fog. The starry sky gave way to the reds and purples of the rising sun. Finally, the passing of the night removed the veil of darkness from his mind. Better yet, he was about to get some much-needed exercise. He could not wait to fight with Arnold. It was his favorite pastime, besides reading.
