Read Online The Wild Dark Flowers by Elizabeth Cooke - Free Book Online

and the subtle rush of water in the heating pipes. Then abruptly Charlotte asked, “Do you ever think of him?”
    “Think of whom?”
    “You know very well. Charles de Montfort.”
    “No,” Louisa answered.
    Charlotte prodded her. “Go on—you do.”
    “I try not to.”
    “Did he—you know—”
    Louisa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have anything to tell you, little beast.”
    “I’m old enough to know.”
    “There’s nothing to tell.”
    Charlotte picked up a leaf and slowly shredded it. “I think it a very poor show when one’s own sister won’t let on.”
    Louisa sighed. “There’s nothing to let on about,” she said. “I wish I could thrill you, but there it is.”
    “Not a kiss?”
    Louisa withdrew her hand from Charlotte’s arm abruptly. “Do you think this is a subject I want to talk about?” she demanded.
    “You ought to.”
    “Why? So that you can delight in it?”
    Charlotte bridled. “That’s unfair. I just want to know.”
    “Oh, you must know everything, mustn’t you?” Louisa complained. “What’s going on with Father and the government and the war, and the Irish question—as if it had anything to do with us—and the women’s vote. It’s very exhausting, Charlotte, it really is. It’s none of your business, and neither is Charles de Montfort.”
    “I should think whatever goes on in the world is my business, and yours,” Charlotte retaliated. “Father says we have a responsibility—”
    “Excuse me,” Louisa interrupted, “but Father says the thinking
man
has a responsibility. He said it at breakfast yesterday. He said nothing at all about women. You know very well he loathes women interfering in politics.”
    “Well, Mother seems not to want to stick her head in the ground, even if you do,” Charlotte told her. “Look at all she’s doing in Blessington.”
    Louisa sighed. “It isn’t right.”
    “The mills are Mother’s property!”
    “They are
not
Mother’s property. Not since she married, you dolt. They are Father’s property.”
    “Well, they’re her family’s. Why shouldn’t she do something about them?”
    “Because it isn’t attractive. Just like politics for a woman. Not in the least attractive or appropriate.” She looked at Charlotte for some moments, frowning. “I hope that you haven’t got it into your head to oppose Father, Charlotte.”
    “You did.”
    “I did not!” Louisa said.
    “Anyway, I don’t see that being attractive took you very far,” Charlotte retorted. “In fact, it took you to entirely inappropriate places.”
    Louisa stared at her, hurt.
    “I’m sorry,” Charlotte relented after a moment or two.
    “That was a cruel thing to say.”
    “I’ve said I’m sorry.”
    Louisa sighed. “Look, Charlie, I’ve made my mistake. You’d better learn from it. Be guided. You’re only seventeen. Listen to what people tell you. Listen to Father and Mother.”
    Charlotte got to her feet. She stared about herself. “It’s too hot in here. I’m going out. What are you going to do?”
    “Probably lie down awhile.”
    Charlotte huffed her disapproval. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not interested in men telling me what to do,” she said flatly. “Or marrying one, or going to Paris with one, or letting someone like Father, who may be a dear but who is actually a
lot
older than me . . .”
    “Charlie!”
    “Well, he is. Some people have
grandfathers
his age.”
    “He’s a much respected man.”
    “I know that. But it’s 1915, Louisa. Not 1815. Father’s ideas are out-of-date, especially when it comes to women.”
    “He adores you, Charlie. Mother, too. Remember that.”
    Blushing, Charlotte turned away. “I do remember it,” she said. “But I’ve got a brain in my head, and I intend to use it.” She started walking to the door. “I won’t let anyone command my life,” she muttered. “Not a type like de Montfort, or Father, or anyone else.”
    Out again in the garden, she hesitated a moment, and