“How much room is that?” she’d asked him.
Thomas had looked about the enormous bedroom, dripping with opulent furnishings, and smiled. “The bedroom is, as I recall, about a third this size. You’ll like the bed, though,” he’d added, giving her that look.
“I don’t want to go,” she said, digging in her heels. “I must stay here, Thomas. My parents need me.”
“No they don’t. I’ve already spoken to your father. He’s as worried as I am. Our reason for going is valid. I assume that you don’t want my sister to be kidnapped again.”
“No, of course not, it’s just—”
“Enough, Pen. Pack your things
. We’ll leave after dinner.”
“But—”
“You are my wife and you will obey me. Now, do as I tell you. Another thing, Pen, you won’t say anything about Wilkes’s threat to Saint. He is not to know.”
And that, Penelope thought now, had been that. She’d seen the small bedroom and shuddered. And the bed, it was so small. She sipped at her tea and tried to think of something to say to her sister-in-law. But it was Jules who spoke first.
“You are very lucky, Penelope,” Jules said, smiling toward her brother. “Thomas is a fine man. I was his slave when we were children.”
“Such an odd life you had,” Penelope said.
“Yes, it was like a Garden of Eden. Despite our father’s rigidity, we managed to run wild most of the time and enjoy ourselves immensely.”
“I don’t have my maid,” Penelope said abruptly.
What do I say to that? Jules wondered. She mustered a smile and some warmth in her voice and said, “It is very kind of you to come, Penelope. I realize that this is not exactly what you’re used to, but I don’t think you’ll be unhappy here, especially since Thomas is here also.”
Penelope merely nodded, and Jules felt a wave of frustration. This, my dear brother, she thought, isn’t a very good idea.
The following morning, Thomas left to see Del Saxton, his explanation to Jules being, “Saint’s Sydney Ducks need to be alerted, and I hope Mr. Saxton will know how to round them up.” He’d kissed her cheek and left. Saint was with a patient, a man with a private problem, so her husband had told her, and thus her presence wasn’t needed, or desired for that matter.
Jules wandered back upstairs, planning to see if Penelope had everything she needed. She paused outside the closed bedroom door, aware that Penelope was crying.
Oh dear, she thought. Had she and Thomas had a fight? What should she do?
She knocked softly, then entered. Penelope was still in bed, huddled under the covers.
“Penelope! What’s the matter? Do you feel ill?”
Penelope froze, humiliation washing over her. “What do you want?” she asked, not looking at her sister-in-law.
“What’s wrong, Penelope?” Jules asked, quashing the flash of anger she felt at the cold words. “Come, we are sisters now.”
“It’s your damned brother!” Penelope shouted, her cup filled to overflowing. “He’s an animal, a brute, and—”
“What?”
“He forces me to do . . . things, and I hate it and it’s awful and my mother told me it would be thus, but I didn’t believe her!”
The light dawned. Jules regarded Penelope’s flushed face. “What did your mother tell you?” she asked calmly.
“That men are animals, that they do unspeakable things to their wives, and we have to be brave and . . . bear it.”
“And you believed her? By all that’s rich, that is ridiculous! Don’t you love my brother?”
Penelope stared at Jules. “Of course I love him. I shouldn’t have married him otherwise.”