move.”
“That’s indecent!” Gwendolyn objected. “How will we dress?”
Sir Ethan reddened slightly with embarrassment. “We’ll install a drape over the doorway, and I will threaten any young man with death who behaves improperly toward you.”
“I don’t want some hairy old man sleeping nearby, practically in the bedchamber with us,” Isolde grumbled.
“Enough!” Sir Ethan shouted. “You will be discovered eventually, and one of you will wed whoever uncovers your secret.” He banged the door shut behind him as he stormed out of the room.
As always, the sisters looked toward Eleanore to tell them what to do. This time, though, she wasn’t sure how to advise them. “I think…,” she began slowly, settling on a bed, “that what we must do is be very, very sure that we are not discovered. To be found out would mean a terrible fate for one of us and the end of happiness for all of us.”
“But what if the young man who wins is wonderful?” Bronwyn asked.
“What if he’s not?” Eleanore countered. “Wouldn’t you rather choose for yourself?”
“Absolutely!” Rowena agreed passionately.
Eleanore studied her intently. Rowena had metsomeone when she was beyond the manor wall, she was more sure of it than ever. Even on the island, though she danced and feasted, she was more reserved than the others.
“When will we ever get the chance to choose a husband for ourselves?” Cecily said. “That day might never come. Isn’t it better that one of us has a chance to get free of this imprisonment? Maybe that sister could help the others?”
Eleanore sighed in frustration. “It’s all possible, I suppose, but which of you wants to stop going to the island?”
After a moment’s silence, Rowena spoke quietly. “I do.” They looked at her incredulously, but she continued. “Didn’t we set out to find our mother? Have we completely given up on that plan?”
“Have you seen something in your scrying bowl?” Eleanore inquired warily. She loved the island and didn’t wish to be diverted from its pleasures, but she felt obligated to ask.
Rowena nodded. “I see a sad woman. Sometimes she weeps; at other times she stares blankly, as if defeated. At times she pounds on the walls and screams.”
“Are you sure you haven’t imagined this?” Eleanore asked.
“No. I’m not sure,” Rowena admitted. “This entire business of seeing things beyond the reach of normal sight confounds and confuses me. In a way, I wish I wasn’t seeing these disturbing things, but I am.”
“Perhaps you just wish to see the things that you do,” Isolde suggested.
“I wish not to see them,” Rowena said, disagreeing with a disparaging laugh.
“We have no real proof that our mother is calling to us,” said Eleanore in a voice of one in charge. “The evidence is that she is not even alive. What we know is that we have been incarcerated in this prison of a home without the normal social opportunities to which any young woman is entitled.”
“What opportunities?” Brianna asked eagerly.
Eleanore sat forward as she warmed to her topic. “I have read the books that the servants bring in, particularly the romances that are penned in France. Young women our age should be going to balls, parties, and lavish dinners. Handsome young men should be begging for our hands in marriage and languishing for want of a kiss. The eldest of us might already be mothers with homes of our own. But the insane behavior of our parents—a mother who abandoned us, a father who is maniacally overprotective—has denied us all that we deserve.”
“I never saw it that way before,” said Helewise thoughtfully.
“Well, that’s how it seems to me,” Eleanore insisted. “And now some strange twist of fate has given to us what we have lacked. Our father wishes to thwart even that, and so we must outwit him at his own game.”
“How will we accomplish that?” Ione inquired.
“I have a thought,” Eleanore continued.
“That’s indecent!” Gwendolyn objected. “How will we dress?”
Sir Ethan reddened slightly with embarrassment. “We’ll install a drape over the doorway, and I will threaten any young man with death who behaves improperly toward you.”
“I don’t want some hairy old man sleeping nearby, practically in the bedchamber with us,” Isolde grumbled.
“Enough!” Sir Ethan shouted. “You will be discovered eventually, and one of you will wed whoever uncovers your secret.” He banged the door shut behind him as he stormed out of the room.
As always, the sisters looked toward Eleanore to tell them what to do. This time, though, she wasn’t sure how to advise them. “I think…,” she began slowly, settling on a bed, “that what we must do is be very, very sure that we are not discovered. To be found out would mean a terrible fate for one of us and the end of happiness for all of us.”
“But what if the young man who wins is wonderful?” Bronwyn asked.
“What if he’s not?” Eleanore countered. “Wouldn’t you rather choose for yourself?”
“Absolutely!” Rowena agreed passionately.
Eleanore studied her intently. Rowena had metsomeone when she was beyond the manor wall, she was more sure of it than ever. Even on the island, though she danced and feasted, she was more reserved than the others.
“When will we ever get the chance to choose a husband for ourselves?” Cecily said. “That day might never come. Isn’t it better that one of us has a chance to get free of this imprisonment? Maybe that sister could help the others?”
Eleanore sighed in frustration. “It’s all possible, I suppose, but which of you wants to stop going to the island?”
After a moment’s silence, Rowena spoke quietly. “I do.” They looked at her incredulously, but she continued. “Didn’t we set out to find our mother? Have we completely given up on that plan?”
“Have you seen something in your scrying bowl?” Eleanore inquired warily. She loved the island and didn’t wish to be diverted from its pleasures, but she felt obligated to ask.
Rowena nodded. “I see a sad woman. Sometimes she weeps; at other times she stares blankly, as if defeated. At times she pounds on the walls and screams.”
“Are you sure you haven’t imagined this?” Eleanore asked.
“No. I’m not sure,” Rowena admitted. “This entire business of seeing things beyond the reach of normal sight confounds and confuses me. In a way, I wish I wasn’t seeing these disturbing things, but I am.”
“Perhaps you just wish to see the things that you do,” Isolde suggested.
“I wish not to see them,” Rowena said, disagreeing with a disparaging laugh.
“We have no real proof that our mother is calling to us,” said Eleanore in a voice of one in charge. “The evidence is that she is not even alive. What we know is that we have been incarcerated in this prison of a home without the normal social opportunities to which any young woman is entitled.”
“What opportunities?” Brianna asked eagerly.
Eleanore sat forward as she warmed to her topic. “I have read the books that the servants bring in, particularly the romances that are penned in France. Young women our age should be going to balls, parties, and lavish dinners. Handsome young men should be begging for our hands in marriage and languishing for want of a kiss. The eldest of us might already be mothers with homes of our own. But the insane behavior of our parents—a mother who abandoned us, a father who is maniacally overprotective—has denied us all that we deserve.”
“I never saw it that way before,” said Helewise thoughtfully.
“Well, that’s how it seems to me,” Eleanore insisted. “And now some strange twist of fate has given to us what we have lacked. Our father wishes to thwart even that, and so we must outwit him at his own game.”
“How will we accomplish that?” Ione inquired.
“I have a thought,” Eleanore continued.
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