The Wrong Gentleman

CHAPTER TWO

TW: This chapter contains scenes of suicide.

Several minutes passed before their mother gathered herself off of the wooden floor and stumbled out of the front door. Silence followed her exit, forcing Jane to rise to her wobbly feet. She crossed the room and knelt beside her father's broken form on the floor.

"Fa—"

He shook his head, silencing her. "You should go. Take your sister with you." He barely looked at her, his gaze wandering the room.

Numb, she nodded, turning to the exit where Amelia still stood, sobbing into her hands. She guided Amelia up the stairs, barely seeing the path before her past her blurry vision.

"May I please sleep in your room tonight?" Amelia mumbled, and she nodded, deciding she needed the company. She didn't suppose she would get any sleep that evening, and perhaps having Amelia around would help ease her nerves. "Oh, thank you, Jane!" Amelia said, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Yes," she patted her trembling shoulder, "let's put you to bed, shall we?"

"How shall I sleep amidst such terrible news?! How do you suppose we shall survive now that Father is penniless?! How shall I get a proper education? How shall you, or any of us, find a proper husband?! Surely, we're ruined!" she cried.

Jane sighed, her head throbbing as she pulled away from her sister's embrace. She glanced down at her. "We shall be just fine," she managed, even if she felt anything but fine in that second. She was tired, emotionally and physically. It felt like there was a heavy load upon her shoulders and it didn't matter how hard she tried, she was unable to get rid of it.

"And if we're not?"

"Then we shall manage," she said, stepping around Amelia and pushing the door to her room wide open. She ushered her inside and closed the door behind them. "Here, lie down." She motioned to the bed.

Amelia obeyed without a word. She settled on the bed, and a few minutes later, the soft sound of her snoring filled the room.

Jane resumed her position on the settee before the hearth, hugging the book to her chest as she watched the fire. She fought to rid her mind of the events of that evening, but she could barely forget. She could neither forget the distraught look in her father's eyes as he begged their forgiveness for losing their family's fortune in a game of cards, nor could she forget the accusation in her mother's eyes as she turned from them and exited the building.

A part of Jane was angry, and it was the part that blamed her father for his folly in choosing to gamble with his family's future. Yet, there was the part of her that truly pitied him. She knew he bore the burden of not only caring for them but also seeing to their mother's excesses. How could she loathe him for desiring to be an excellent father and husband?

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she considered the bleak future she knew quite well lay ahead of them. Without money, they were ruined. She had told Amelia earlier that they would manage, but Jane knew they would have to do much more than just manage; they would be absolutely and utterly poor. If she had failed to get a worthy husband in the past with her sizable dowry, she was certain she would be subjected to a life of spinsterhood now that she had no money to her name. The best she could do was try to find employment, maybe as a governess. She doubted it would be easy finding employment without experience or a recommendation.

And her poor sister...

Amelia's future appeared worse than Jane's. While Jane had obtained a quality education in London's finest finishing school, Amelia's hope of going to a finishing school once she turned fifteen was cut off by their new financial standing. She hoped that Amelia's beauty would be enough to gain the attention of a gentleman, who would hopefully be willing to look past their financial state. Mother had boasted many times that Amelia would have no difficulties finding a husband, and Jane truly hoped for that to be the case. Jane could manage the thought of ending up alone—Mother had insinuated it quite often, and Jane believed her—but she was not certain she could stand to think that Amelia would end up like her.

Her mind wandered to her mother, and for a second, she feared she might never return. She knew her mother had most likely wandered out of the house to clear her mind, but a part of her was afraid she had deserted them.

And perhaps Mother might choose to return, then what? She was accustomed to living above their means and would certainly find it difficult to adjust. Jane feared that the poverty might either drive their mother mad, or make her melancholic.

Indeed, their life was to change, and bowing her head, Jane prayed for strength for each of them to embrace their future—as uncertain as it was—before drifting to sleep.

~*~

A shrill broke through the darkness in Jane's mind, forcing her form upright.

She gasped, turning sharply around as she rubbed her temple, trying and failing to ease her mounting headache.

She heard the cry again, this time louder and more severe. Recognizing Amelia's voice in the parlor, she sprang to her feet and hurried to the door. She nearly tripped on her white cotton nightdress as she reached it and pulled it open. Fearing she might fall on her face and that her knees might give way beneath her, she clutched the wooden railing as she hurried down the stairs to the parlor.

"Amelia?" She rubbed her eyes. Amelia stood in the center of the room.

"Amelia!"

Amelia spun around then, her eyelids bulging as tears spilled down her ashen face. Horror clouded her features, sending a chill down Jane's spine.

"Ja..." Amelia opened her mouth, a soft sigh drifting from her lips as her eyeballs rolled back in her head.

Horrified, Jane hurried forward to catch Amelia, but the sight before her stopped her dead in her tracks. It was the sight of their father, slumped over on the sofa by the fireplace. He looked to be asleep, but for the gaping hole in his head and the blood that dripped down his neck.

Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath Jane and darkness covered her like a blanket.