The baroness sniffed into the air, making it even clearer what she thought of her son-in-law.
“All right, then,” Cathy sighed.
It took one hour of scrubbing and brushing to make Cathy look like a civilized member of thetononce more. In fact, the whole process probably made her look just about human if nothing more. She had to scrub her skin raw to make it happen, as if hot water could wash away all her troubles.
When the steam rose from her bath, she nearly thought it resembled a sacrifice. She dressed in her darkest gray wool, just a shade shy of funeral attire. After all, she was recalling her last few days—or perhaps years—of mourning, to be more precise. Then, she wrapped her hair into the tightest bun, feeling the harsh pull against her scalp. It was an act of contrition. However, she knew thetonwas not exactly forgiving, even when Miss Priggish looked like a grumpy governess. This was just armor. Inside, she was falling apart.
The armor shattered as soon as she set foot on the ground floor.
The house was in complete disarray. Two footmen struggled to carry some furniture out the door. One appeared to be her father’s expensive mahogany desk. Empty crates were scattered throughout the hallway, with no particular order. Meanwhile, Cathy could feel a draft entering the house as the front door stood wide open. The crisp air carried the scent of damp earth from a recent rain. Her entire life, on the other hand, felt like a constant flood. The removal of some items was not just about selling belongings but also about dismantling her childhood spent in that house.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice echoing through the halls.
Speaking of halls, where were some of the paintings? Cathy was an intelligent woman, and everything was starting to fall into place.
“At whose order are the furnishings being moved? Grandmama!”
A few more steps led her to the drawing room, where the baroness was sitting pale and furious. She was too proud tocry. It certainly reminded Cathy of who she had gotten that trait from. The old woman’s shoulders were shaking violently, though.
“That coward,” she mumbled, almost like someone casting a wicked spell. In the case of Lady Marlow, it was merely aristocratic fury.
“What is happening? Did Grandpapa do something?” Cathy asked, still confused and disoriented from leaving her room. She glanced left and right for her grandfather.
“I am speaking of someone spineless and thieving, Cathy,” her grandmother corrected. “Who else could it be but yourfather?’
“What has Papa done this time?” Cathy sighed.
“He left us! He left with some of the furniture, and some are even on the way out!” Lady Marlow shouted, aristocratic fury be damned. “He is even too much of a coward to stand by and watch while the meager furnishings he was contributing were being hauled away.”
“W-what? Where is he off to? Why would he be gone?” Cathy asked, although she already suspected what her father had been up to. “I swear I heard him singing in his room last night.”
At that moment, Cathy’s younger sisters rushed into the drawing room. Each one wore a certain degree of panic on her face.
“What was he, then? Celebrating his departure?” Madeline asked. “Perhaps he has found a new business opportunity he wants to assess.”
“The servants told me about an hour ago,” Lady Marlow replied. “He packed his trunks, what was left of that battered leather. Then, he took his horse with him all before dawn. He truly leftlike a thief in the night, with no word for me or even for you, his daughters!”
“Papa would not do that!” Madeline protested, the sunshine in her heart rushing back in.
Something seemed to click in Cathy’s head. She did not wait for any more words from her family. She turned on her heel so abruptly that she almost fainted. But she still managed to run. It was what she was good at these days. Her heavy skirts fought against her legs, but she kept on racing to her father’s study. She reeled at the smell of stale brandy, tobacco, and sweat. The place always faintly smelled like this, but that morning was the worst.
Her family had followed her into the room, creating a hurried procession of clacking heels and rustling skirts. They stood behind her, and even if she was not looking at them, she could feel their emotions washing over her. Her mouth hung open. Everyone went quiet. All eyes were fixed on the safe behind the portrait hanging behind her father’s desk. The safe was wide open, the metal door still swinging on its hinges. Not a single banknote was inside.
Cathy dropped the ledgers she was clutching. She had meant the day to be a productive one, after she disappeared into the dark recesses of her room for three days. The ledgers hit the floor. The sound vibrated through the room. One even hit the tip of her shoe, but Cathy only felt a faraway kind of pain. She fell to her knees, her eyes still on the empty safe. She reached for the inner shelves, hoping for a miracle. Hoping to see something left behind.
“Papa took everything,” she sobbed. “He emptied our coffers.”
“It looks like he took every sovereign,” Lady Marlow observed from the doorway.
The baroness had always been known as a strong woman. Today, though, she looked her age as she leaned on her cane.
“He ruined us. The family is no longer merely scandalous, which could have been entertaining. We are officially destitute.”
“How are we to live like this, Grandmama?” Cathy slowly rose from her knees. Though she felt distraught, she remembered that she should be her sisters’ strength. Even more now that their father had left. “Selina has not even been properly introduced. This may ruin Maddy’s Season.”
“Well, at least nobody consideredmySeason,” Portia muttered.
“Portia!” her sisters exclaimed in unison.