Houston wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be overcome with admiration. She was scared to death of her wedding night, and she was sure there wasn’t enough champagne in the world to make her react as Blair had done. Lee’s kisses had never made her forget anything.
“Houston, do you hate me?” Blair asked softly.
She considered this. It was odd, but she wasn’t even jealous. Her main thought was that now Lee was going to want the same thing from her, and how could she live up to what Blair had done? Maybe Blair had learned how in medical school but at Miss Jones’s School for Young Ladies in Virginia, they taught that a woman’s place was in the parlor, and no mention was made of what went on in the bedroom.
“You’re looking at me strangely.”
It was on the tip of Houston’s tongue to ask Blair for details of last night but she couldn’t. “I’m not angry. I just need time to adjust,” she said. “You’re not in love with Lee, are you?”
Blair looked up in horror. “No! Never! That’s the last thing I am. Did . . . did he say much about me today?”
Houston ground her teeth together, remembering how he had said Houston was usually so frigid, but last night . . . “Let’s forget this if we can. I’ll talk to Lee when he’s over his anger and we’ll keep it between the three of us. This may make things awkward for a while, but I’m sure we can work out a satisfactory solution. Let’s not allow something like this to come between us. Our sisterhood is more important than this.”
“Thank you,” Blair said, impulsively hugging her sister. “No one ever had a sister like you. I love you.”
Blair seemed to feel better, but Houston had some nagging doubts which she told herself were absurd. She loved Lee, had always loved him, had planned to marry him since she was a child. This one little thing, this one night with the wrong sister wouldn’t change anything, would it?
“Of course not,” she said aloud, smoothed her skirt and went toward the house. One night wasn’t going to erase years together.
Chapter 5
At four o’clock, Houston, Blair and their mother were sitting in the parlor, Blair reading her medical journal, the other two women sewing, when the front door was opened, followed by a jamb-jarring slam.
“Where is she?” Duncan Gates bellowed, making the chandelier above their heads rattle. “Where is that immoral harlot? Where is the Jezebel?”
Mr. Gates burst into the room, his stout body puffed with fury. He grabbed Blair’s arm, pulled her out of her chair, dragging her toward the door.
“Mr. Gates!” Opal said, on her feet at once. “What is the meaning of this?”
“This . . . this daughter of Satan has spent the night with Leander and, in spite of the fact that she’s unclean, he plans to make an honest woman of her.”
“What?!” the three women gasped.
“Leander is going to marry the harlot, I said.” With that he half-dragged a protesting Blair out of the house.
Houston sat down heavily, not able to comprehend what was happening around her.
“Houston,” her mother said. “You and Blair traded places last night, didn’t you?”
Houston only nodded silently and picked up her sewing as if nothing had happened.
The sun set, the room darkened, and the maid switched on the electric lights, but still mother and daughter didn’t speak.
Only one thought went through Houston’s mind: It’s over. Everything is over.
At midnight, the front door opened and Duncan pushed Blair into the parlor ahead of him.
“It’s settled,” he said in a voice hoarse with overuse. “Blair and Leander will be married in two weeks. It will be announced in church on Sunday.”
Quietly, Houston stood.
“Daughter,” Duncan said with feeling, “I’m sorry about this.”
Houston merely nodded as she started toward the stairs.
“Houston,” Blair said from the foot of the staircase. “Please,” she whispered.
But at the moment, Houston had no compassion to give her sister and, even when she heard Blair at last break into weeping, she didn’t look back.