Page 13 of In Want of a Wife
“Your mother married my father,” Lily said, bracing for their inevitable pushback.
“And then we were stuck with you,” Thea said, pushing through the door. She wiped at her red cheeks. “Jane, you stole my green shawl, and I need it back.”
“You let me borrow it,” Jane said, sinking down to her knees by the edge of the mattress so Baby could continue to dance on top of the patchwork quilt.
“Where is it, Jane?’ Thea turned toward the wardrobe and tore the doors open, tossing out clothes as she searched for the missing article of clothing.
“See, Mother,” Mary screamed, marching into the room and pointing a finger at Thea. “She is on a rampage this morning. Everything is hers. And that kitten was mine.”
“That kitten doesn’t belong to you or Mary,” a cold voice announced from the hallway. “The kittens will be given away. The dogs don’t like cats in the house, and I don’t, either. Unnatural creatures. They belong outside.”
The dogs howled as if in agreement from the drawing room.
Lily’s stepmother strolled into her bedroom, crossing her arms. “Girls, I expect better. Honestly. And you,” she said, pointing to Lily, “it is way past acceptable to be finding you still in bed.”
Before Lily could answer, her stepmother looked at her hands and scoffed. “I don’t see how we will ever find a husband for you if you insist on spending your nights writing.”
So, she was to be cruel this morning. Very well.
Her stepmother possessed only two moods—hysteria or viciousness.
There was no middle ground, and of the two, Lily much preferred the first. The latter only made her miss her mother, or rather, some imagined life where her mother was still alive. She barely remembered her now, but Lily liked to think she was much kinder.
“Good morning, Mama.”
Her stepmother scoffed again, glancing at the desk and the stacked manuscript pages Lily had poured over only hours earlier.
“What a waste of your time.”
“I think it’s a project very much worthy of my time. Don’t you wish for the girls?—”
“Don’t you dare speak to me about my daughters. They will be raised as proper young ladies. This”—she waved around at Lily’s desk stacked with books, illustrations of the constellations, and her manuscript—“is why men don’t find you a suitable match. Men find an educated woman too intimidating.”
Right. She should make herself smaller and be comfortable with the life she’d been given as long as she could draw decently, speak a little French, and play the piano. It wasn’t the first time herstepmother insisted on such nonsense. And each time, Lily wished to snap back that insecure men were threatened, and she refused to believe every man was comfortable with such a dynamic.
Lily picked at the hem of her wrapper, sitting with that insult for a minute.
“I have worked very hard,” she said at last, addressing her lap. She was certain if she looked at her stepmother and the woman’s dull gray eyes that she would cry.
“Mary, Thea, it’s time for your piano lesson. I will meet you downstairs in a moment.”
The pair pushed and shoved each other, trying to beat one another out of the door.
“Ladies, why have you woken this morning to test my nerves? I swear to the Lord above you will drive me to an early grave. Mind your manners and I will let you keep a kitten.”
The girls muttered out in the hallway before the bickering began again over which kitten they would keep. Meanwhile, Jane continued dancing her ragdoll around the room.
Her stepmother lofted her nose and pointed toward the emptied wardrobe. “Amelia, this mess is unacceptable. Pick it up at once.”
“It was Thea.”
“It is your room, and no lady of your upbringing should ever allow her clothes to be strewn about the floor like… well, no matter. Pick it up, then it is time for your lessons as well. Jane? Jane?”
Jane twirled, narrowly escaping a collision with Lily, but tumbled into the desk. Manuscript pages flew into the air, and her inkwell tipped over. A puddle of ink began seeping into Lily’s hard work.
“Deportment!” her stepmother shouted. “Why do I have the most ungraceful daughters? Jane, leave us at once.”
Lily scrambled to pick up the ink, even as Amelia and Jane watched from the doorway. Her stepmother remained frozen, casting only a withering glare at Lily.
