Her Lady's Fortune

by Renée Dahlia

  Her chest swelled and she held Rosalie tighter, opening her mouth to kiss her deeper. Their tongues swept together and the optimism in her veins spread and grew until Priya was overwhelmed by Rosalie’s kiss. Their connection, and the way they could support each other, had the potential to be a happy union.

  Priya broke the kiss, panting for breath. A happy union. Happiness wasn’t for her. She always overdid everything; she carried too much guilt and grief to be worthy of such dramatic positivity. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.” And she bolted from the room before her own arrogance pushed her into doing something that couldn’t be taken back. The door clicked behind her as her brain fizzed at the competing ideas and rush of blood until she staggered down the hallway like a drunkard. Drunk on Rosalie’s kiss, or drunk on the idea that she could save the world. Why did she always make everything so... much? Why couldn’t she enjoy a kiss with a supportive person without turning it into a wild flight of imagination? She leaned on the wall, breathing heavily. What now?

  Chapter 10

  Rosalie stood in the hallway at Williams Variety Hall hovering beside a closed door. Having a lover break a kiss and run away had been a big hit to Rosalie’s ego. Was it ego or something else that made Priya’s action sting like a scratch from a rose bush? She huffed out a short breath and stared at the note crumpled in her palm. Regardless of the reason Priya had bolted like a frightened horse, it begged the question; what was Rosalie doing here? One answer was that she would have been here anyway, because Gloria was due to sing tonight. One simple fact—being here for her sister—didn’t explain why she stood outside Priya’s box, unless she was a glutton for punishment. She told herself she wanted an answer, that Priya fascinated her and Rosalie needed to understand what had caused her extreme reaction. It’d only been a day after Priya’s sudden change of heart—a whole day of knowing nothing and assuming the worst—when Rosalie had received the note. Yesterday. And here she was tonight, still waiting and wanting Priya, despite all the good reasons why she shouldn’t.

  My dear Rosalie,

  It seems I owe you another apology. This is becoming a rather unbecoming habit of mine and I sincerely apologise for my irrational behaviour. I’m afraid you will think me too flighty to be a friend, and yet I find myself wanting your friendship more than ever. Our discussion gave me much to think over, and it behoves me to invite to our box at Williams Variety Hall tomorrow. I understand your sister is performing. Please watch her at my side.

  Yours,

  Miss Priya Howick

  It was signed with a flourish which perfectly suited Priya; it began boldly, ending with a little hesitant squiggle that reminded Rosalie of Priya’s inconsistency. If this was business, Rosalie wouldn’t bother with a client who didn’t know their own goals. Clients like this were never worth the time they demanded, so why was she giving Priya the benefit of the doubt? Because this wasn’t business, it was deeply personal. Rosalie had taken extra time with her appearance tonight—just in case—and now stood outside Priya’s private box rubbing the note between damp fingertips. For the short time that they’d been together in the Sanderson Suite, Priya’s reaction had reinforced their first ever kiss, when Rosalie had thought Priya too young. Back then, Rosalie had been the one to find the connection between them too much, too overwhelming, too incredible and she’d run off. Was this a calculated pay back? Or something else. Priya carried so much hurt from the war, a heavy burden for the role her and her family played in the broader politics and financials of the War to end all Wars. It was almost as if Priya held herself responsible for the war and all the fall out. There would be no answers if she pointed out that Priya was being illogical. More than one company had manufactured equipment and weaponry for the war, and none of them had been the ones to invade or begin the squabble between cousins. Rosalie could understand Priya’s point of view; that putting distance between the decision makers, and the deaths only made the whole business uglier. Rosalie admired how Priya cared so much and made it all deeply personal. It was rather silly to regret Priya’s empathy. The depth of empathy in Priya’s heart made her into the interesting, challenging, and caring person that Rosalie so admired; which of course was why she was here, slightly nervous and wanting more than to be kissed and abandoned. One day, Priya would open her heart up and Rosalie wanted to be the one who stood beside her and supported her.

  She tapped lightly on the door, and introduced herself to the footman who nodded and let her in. Priya stood behind the footman, close enough to suggest that she’d been waiting in anticipation of Rosalie’s attendance. Priya wore a fantastic navy blue gown with lace cuffs and long flowing silk which showed off her fashionable lean body. Matching sapphire jewellery glittered at her throat, ears, and on her wrists.

  “Come in. You are early.”

  Rosalie paused. “I never miss my sister’s performances.”

  “Excellent. Champagne?”

  “Thank you.” Rosalie waited as Priya poured the light bubbly liquid into two flutes and passed one to her.

  “I take it you received my note.”

  “Yes.” It would be presumptuous of her to tap on the door and expect to be allowed entry without having received an invitation.

  “I am truly sorry for panicking.”

  “I suppose it’s only fair given you feel I did the same to you six years ago at Miss Stephens’s Bloomsbury house.”

  Priya blinked and stepped backwards. “Excuse me? You think I planned it?” Her face lost all its happy charm, and Rosalie had to tell herself to stop being petty. Just because she was hurt by Priya’s actions, didn’t mean she needed to hurt her in return.

  “I think you are an intelligent person who survives in a world where political games are a constant. Perhaps you didn’t plan it...”

  “I didn’t. I panicked.”

  “And are you still panicking now?”

  Priya’s frown deepened. “No. I already said I was sorry.”

  “Saying it is easy. I will await your actions.” Rosalie didn’t like pushing Priya like this, but her heart was involved and she had to be certain. She didn’t want to fear Priya’s motivations for being with her.

  Colour splashed on Priya’s cheeks. “I see.”

  Rosalie sipped her champagne and it fizzed on her tongue with an expensive dry taste. Delicious, and at odds to the conversation at hand. What Rosalie really wanted was someone she could talk openly with, and while it would be easy to blame the world around them for the way Priya was cagey about her opinions and views, the reasoning for her inconsistency didn’t matter when it was at odds with Rosalie’s needs.

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

  “I—” It would be easy to fall back onto a business statement about how trust was important in a relationship and Sanderson and Sons valued... etc. A reminder of their kiss—kisses—hovered in the air between them and Rosalie realised she was staring at Priya’s dusky lips. She took another sip of champagne but all it did was remind Rosalie of Priya’s taste.

  “Never mind. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to that. My own chaotic view of myself is enough to cope with.” Priya’s eyes widened and she glanced away, making Rosalie realise she’d been nodding in agreement.

  “Wait. I do want to know. Years ago when we met, I thought you were too young and I left because I should’ve resisted the electric pull towards you before we kissed. We had such an instant connection physically that it scared me. The age gap between us was too great and we obviously were at different stages of life.”

  Priya bit her bottom lip. “The age gap hasn’t changed. What are trying to say?”

  “It hasn’t.” There was a big difference between a twenty-two year old Priya before the war and the more mature adult she’d been forced to grow into now. Rosalie wasn’t sure how to communicate that change without upsetting Priya. She pushed aside her doubts with a deep breath. If she spent the rest of her life pr
evaricating and not saying things to Priya in case she upset her, well, it wasn’t a pattern she was comfortable in living.

  “I think the war has impacted on you, just as it has everything, and it’s no wonder you are confused about your place in the world.” Rosalie heard Priya’s splutter of protest and did her best to ignore it. “As independent women, neither of us belong anywhere. We challenge the status quo and are easily lumped in with the suffragettes whose behaviour is politically divisive.”

  “Careful. You are talking about some of my friends.”

  “Mine too. I believe in suffrage. All I’m saying is that there are many people in power who don’t agree with our status in society, and they wield that power to push women like us down. It makes sense that you are confused about your place in the world because there are so many mixed messages from so many different sources.”

  Priya nodded. “My instinct is to argue with you and say that I am strong enough in myself to withstand the negative messaging...” She sipped her champagne and Rosalie waited for her. She owed Priya that much. “It is more complicated than that. In many ways you are right, in others there is information you are missing.”

  Rosalie spread her hands wide. “Then tell me. I would like to be your friend, Priya.”

  “Why?” The air thickened. Rosalie knew her answer mattered and she was missing crucial information that would impact on Priya’s reaction to whatever Rosalie chose to say.

  “Why do you want to be my friend, Rosalie?”

  “Give me a moment. Please.”

  “No. This is the problem. We talk in circles around every problem, never quite being honest with each other. You say you want to see my apology in action, and yet, I’m not even sure I can trust you. Why do you want to be my friend?”

  “It must be difficult to live your life so cynically. Is there anyone you trust?” As soon as she spoke, Rosalie wanted to take it back. She was hardly the model of openness, and Priya had done nothing more than echo her own concerns. In business, the whole truth wasn’t a concept that existed, and Rosalie had spent so much of her life fighting to run her family’s business that she wondered if she could return to a simpler time when truth was straight-forward.

  “I trust my family.”

  “Is it because we’ve kissed?” Rosalie blurted a pointless question as she searched for clues; clues to her own wants as well as a hunt for what Priya might need from her. The musicians warmed up in the pit with a discordant tune that felt appropriate to Rosalie. Priya licked her lips and stared out of the box at the empty stage.

  “I like kissing you. If the world was fair, I’d be able to kiss you and not have to worry about whether I could trust you.”

  “You can trust me on that matter. At the very least, you and I both know I have more to lose than you if our affair became public. The world is not ready for a relationship between women; especially when I run one of the city’s largest banks. Our clients would flee to safer pastures.”

  “Most people are aware of the Bloomsbury Set.”

  A wave of cynicism rushed into Rosalie’s veins, icy and prickly. “No. That isn’t the same at all. Of those that are aware, they often dismiss the set as unimportant because they are artists. Imagine the outcry in the much more conservative business circles.”

  “Fine. I agree. We can trust each other not to spill our personal desires to the world.”

  A grudgingly given point but one that warmed Rosalie’s skin. “And the rest?”

  “Are you asking if I can trust the rest of your unknown motives?”

  Rosalie paused, once again unsure how to answer. The door opened and in walked Priya’s brother, Mr Howick.

  “Priya.” He bundled her into a hug. “I have the most exciting news.”

  “We have a visitor.” Priya’s mumbled answer wasn’t clear but that was what Rosalie guessed she’d said. Ashwin stepped out of his hug and bowed to Rosalie.

  “Miss Sanderson. How good to see you again.”

  “And you, Mr Howick. How is life keeping you?”

  “In excellent fashion. Eliza just agreed to be my wife.”

  “Are you sure?” Priya asked, immediately dampening the mood. “But...”

  “Yes. I’m perfectly certain. I love her.”

  “But Mr Thackery?”

  “Priya. I can’t live my life worried about something that might not happen. Just because it happened once before to Mother.”

  “What if—”

  Mr Howick gently touched his sister on the shoulder. “Priya. Please let me make my own choices. Eliza makes me happy.”

  “I know she does. I’m allowed to worry about you.”

  “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Sanderson lately. Obviously her banker’s obsession with money is rubbing off on you.” Mr Howick’s jest hit Rosalie in the chest. After Fraud Finder’s story in the newssheets said exactly the same thing, Rosalie had known it would come down to this. Priya only wanted Rosalie for her proximity to the bank; all she wanted was her lofty charity and to appease her own guilt. She’d told her as much, more than once. Why did it take a joke for Rosalie to notice the truth?

  Priya stepped backwards. “It’s not the money. I don’t care about the money.”

  “Only someone with plenty of money would say that.” If ever there was a time to quickly leave, it was now. This conversation was none of her business, obviously, and she needed to leave before she ...

  “The money is a burden to me. I’m trying to use it to help others.” The anguish in Priya’s voice stopped Rosalie from bolting from the room. One couldn’t pretend such depth of feeling.

  Mr Howick held his sister’s gaze. “I know you are. You are doing an excellent job running our charities. Priya, you’ve always had plenty of empathy. It’s a good thing, however, I have one question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why can’t you extend that empathy to Eliza?”

  Priya’s eyes widened briefly before she hung her head. After a moment, she lifted her face towards her brother. “I’m so confused. We spent our childhood being told to be cautious about people, to think about why people might want to be our friends, and to try and figure out who cared about us for ourselves and who only wanted to gain advantage from proximity to us.”

  “I know. I’ve done all those calculations too and that’s how I know Eliza is the one for me.”

  The curtains opened, illuminating the stage, and Rosalie felt it like a metaphor for understanding Priya. Until now, she hadn’t connected the various threads of Priya’s statements, but this made complete sense.

  “I understand.” Rosalie knew exactly what they were trying to explain, because she continually fended off people who wanted an advantage from the bank. Whenever there was wealth and power, there were people who sidled up to it; needy. Her own parents were the perfect example. They continually outspent their allowance, and were always begging for her mercy to give them more.

  “You do?” Both siblings turned towards her.

  “Miss Howick, it wouldn’t matter if you were rich or poor, you would always find a way to help others.”

  “There’s always more I can do.”

  “You never put yourself first, do you?”

  Priya glanced sideways. “Only twice, and neither time worked out well.”

  “Twice?” Mr Howick asked.

  “Once when I was fifteen and was supposed to do an errand for Mother’s clinic, but I went to the circus instead and a man died because I didn’t get his medication fast enough.”

  Rosalie stopped mid-stride. She’d moved automatically towards Priya to hug her, to share her heavy burden; here with her brother watching, only moments after agreeing to keep their relationship or whatever it might become a secret from the world for their own safety.

  “I knew about that. Mother was angry at you initially.”

  “Fiercely angry. I’ll never forget it. She called me selfish, self-centred, seeking my fun before thinking of others in need.” A few tea
rs slid down Priya’s cheeks.

  “I also recall that she apologised later and said that the man may have died anyway. He was very ill, and the medicine was a last ditch attempt to save him.”

  “All I remember is the first part. I could have saved him. Instead I chose to spend the afternoon with my friends. When I eventually did Mother’s errand, it was too late.” Priya paced away from her brother and Rosalie gave in to the urge to comfort her. She stood as close to her as she dared.

  “Priya. You were very young. Only fifteen.” Rosalie brushed the tear away with her thumb.

  “My age is irrelevant. A man died because of me.” Priya shook off Rosalie’s touch and stood along in the middle of the small room.

  “And the other time?” Mr Howick asked. “I didn’t realise there was a second time.”

  Priya’s cheeks flushed pink. “It was before the war. I don’t particularly want to discuss it with my brother.”

  “A comment guaranteed to make me want to know everything.” Mr Howick didn’t have to move much to reach out and nudge Priya with his elbow.

  “Fine. I heard of a place where I could...um—”

  “Meet people with shared views on the world?” Rosalie asked? Could it be she referred to their meeting at the Bloomsbury Set?

  “Yes. I went there, selfishly, to seek an answer to a question I had. I found the answer—” Priya glanced at Rosalie and her blush deepened. Priya’s brown eyes shone under the bright electric lights of the theatre.

  “I don’t understand. It sounds like your apparent selfish choice—and I don’t believe it was purely selfishly motivated—well, it all worked out well.”