Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Once she finished that chapter, she dutifully put the last piece of paper back into the smaller box, then reached for a fresh sheet. She’d finally reached halfway, or at least what she thought was halfway, in an actual manuscript. She lost herself in that world, the clack of the typewriter keys filling the house.
She startled at the knock at the door, her fingers freezing over the keys as her head snapped toward the unwelcome sound.
He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. She repeated the phrase in a hushed whisper as she stood, then took the agonizing walk past the dining room, to the front door.
“He’s not dead,” she whispered one last time as her hand reached for the doorknob. There were plenty of reasons someone might call at this hour… She simply couldn’t think of them at this moment.
She lifted her chin and yanked open the door, ready to face whatever fate lay on the other side. “Constance!” Scarlett’s hand flew to her chest, hoping to contain her galloping heartbeat.
“I’m sorry to call so late!” Constance threw her arms around Scarlett. “I had just gotten back to the hut, and one of the girls said Ipswich had an air-raid scare. I had to see for myself that you were all right.” Her sister held her tight.
“We are all right,” Scarlett assured her, hugging her back. “I can’t say the same for Jameson, because I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
Constance pulled back. “They canceled his Sleeping Out pass?”
Scarlett nodded. “He’s been home twice since the raids began, but only to grab a clean uniform and kiss William and me goodbye once again.”
“I’m so sorry,” Constance said, shaking her head and lowering her eyes so her hat obscured her expression. “I should have spent my leave here with you, instead of taking it in London for yet another wedding arrangement session.”
Scarlett took her sister’s hand in hers. “Stop. You have your own life to live. Why don’t you come in, and let’s—”
“No, I have to get back,” Constance said with a quick shake of her head.
“Nonsense,” Scarlett argued, glancing over Constance’s shoulder to see the new car parked at the edge of the pavement. “It is already so late, and if you can’t spend the night, at least let me make you some tea before you drive back.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at the lack of insignia on the bumper. “It’s a lovely car.”
“Thank you,” Constance said with no joy. “Henry demanded I take it. He said no fiancée of his would be dependent on public transportation.” Constance lifted her shoulders in a minute shrug as she looked back at the sleek automobile.
A sick feeling slid through Scarlett’s stomach as she realized that Constance had yet to meet her eyes. “Come on, poppet, just one cup.” She reached across the threshold and tilted Constance’s chin up.
Rage filled her heart. She was going to bloody kill him.
With the living room light illuminating her little sister’s face, Scarlett now saw the bruise marring Constance’s eye. The skin around it was puffy, red in places, and light blue in others, speaking to the bruise that would no doubt appear overnight.
“It’s nothing,” Constance said, jerking her head out of Scarlett’s grasp.
“Get in here.” Scarlett tugged Constance inside and shut the door behind them, then led her sister to the kitchen where she put on the kettle.
“It really is—”
“If you tell me it’s nothing again, I’m going to scream,” Scarlett threatened, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
Constance sighed and removed her hat, placing it on the table next to Scarlett’s typewriter. “What would you have me say?”
“The truth.”
“There are degrees of the truth,” Constance said, folding her hands in her lap.
“Not between us there aren’t.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I angered him,” Constance explained, her eyes lowering to her hands. “Turns out he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, or to be told no.”
Scarlett’s chest ached. “You cannot marry him. If he does this before you’re married, imagine what will happen after.”
“You don’t think I know?”
“If you know, then why go through with it? I know you love that land, and I know you think it’s the last piece of Edward, but Edward wouldn’t want you to be battered and bruised to keep it.” Scarlett crossed the distance between them and dropped to her knees in front of her sister, taking her hands in her own. “Please, Constance, please don’t do this.”
“It’s out of my hands,” Constance whispered, her lower lip trembling. “Announcements have been made. Invitations have been sent. By this time next month, we’ll be married.”
Scarlett felt tears prick at her eyes but would not let them fall. It wasn’t her fault that Henry was an abusive ass, but she couldn’t help but feel as though her sister had taken her place at the guillotine.