"God help me, I will never sail again," said Cora, her tone bitter yet more relaxed than it had been in weeks. In fact, the dark-haired beauty was almost glowing as she sank gratefully into the velvet lounges of The New Heritage Inn. The lodging was small and certainly not as luxurious as the ladies and gentlemen of London were accustomed to, but it was a welcome respite from the stale, close quarters of ships' cabins, so the ocean-side inn did a brisk business. Before they were even seated, Cora had ordered tea and sandwiches, sending a steward off to tend to their many bags.
Alice murmured in artificial agreement. She was filled with sorrow to leave the Queen Elizabeth, but she was earnestly glad that her sister would now get some relief from her constant nausea. Indeed, her cheeks were hollowed and her frame frail, making Cora appear weaker and more delicate than her fair sister for the first time in their lives.
However, when the cucumber sandwiches appeared on the table, this time it was Alice who felt her stomach lurch in aversion. Yet she knew better than to refuse and she piled her small china plate with the edibles. Since childhood, Cora had been endlessly strict and maternal with her, their own mother having died in childbirth with Alice. While she appreciated her sister's care as a child, she had of late found Cora's behavior to be nothing short of affronting. A seventeen-year-old young woman hardly needed direction on how to monitor her appetite, but she knew she could never voice such feelings to Cora. Or to anyone. No, Alice kept everything inside, where it belonged. Where it could hurt no one but herself, the one person who deserved it most of all.
"We should turn in early tonight," said Cora, taking small bites and displaying her well-bred manners, even after weeks of near starvation on the ship. Cora's credo was that a lady was always a lady, even when—especially when—it was difficult to be so.
"Yes," said Alice, not bothering to ask questions, as was her custom. She knew from experience that she would be given only whatever information her elders desired to give her.
"We leave at daybreak with Father's scouts," Cora explained, a bit of irritation in her voice. After weeks of being alone in bed, she wanted a rousing conversation, but Alice was behaving as though her voice-box was broken. "It should be a tiring journey, but not overlong."
"Aye," said Alice, her posture sinking slightly at the thought of seeing her Father in such a short amount of time. She had not faced him since the incident in London, and she dreaded the censure and shame she knew she would see in his eyes. Oh, God, I wish I was someone else, she thought for the hundredth time that day alone.
"Are you not excited to see our Father?" chided Cora, helping herself to another lump of sugar. "He was so kind as to pay for our passage and ensure our safe journey to him. Verily, there are some fathers who never would have given another farthing or thought to a daughter who—
Cora's voice stilled as the light faded out of Alice's large light eyes.
"I know I am indebted to our Father for his care and his forgiveness," said Alice, her voice deepening with emotion, "I know I can never undo the shame I have brought upon our family name. I thank you for your kindness and mercy as well. But now I think I should retire. I'm exhausted from the day's events."
Alice rose and Cora nodded curtly. As she watched her little sister walk gracefully from the dining room, she wrung her hands quietly in frustration. Damn the girl, she thought. She knew it was un-Christian of her but there was something about Alice's quiet, dream-like ways that simply enraged Cora. It was as if she was watching a drowning person sink willingly into the waves. For a girl as full of life and fight as Cora, such behavior was not just frustrating, it was almost an act of immorality. Not good sportsmanship at all, thought Cora, not at all.
The waiter brought fresh tea and biscuits to the table, and Cora easily pushed Alice out of her mind. She was always one to live in the moment, especially a moment that included chocolate biscuits.