Father has arrived. He came to the attic door and pounded and shouted at me to stop my silly megrims and obey him. I must marry Alfred. I must do it now, or he’ll break the door down and beat me until I do his bidding. I listened to him, and wondered why he was so frantic. I think I know. I still read his newspapers. He’s losing control. The government gives him war stories, and he has to print them. He doesn’t get to interfere in politics and business as he used to. He can’t ruin people’s lives with a single slash of his pen. He’s lost influence and power. He wants to join with Alfred and become the mogul he was before. For that, he needs me.

He gave me three days to come to my senses.

The three days are up. Father had his men tear down the barricades outside the door. He strode in, his belly thrust out in that bullying way that he has. I was sitting in the chair waiting, and when he stopped and really looked at me, at my gaunt face and lank hair, he said, “You look old. You’ve done this to yourself. Come down, stupid girl, eat from my table and marry the man I’ve picked for you.”

I stood up and let the blanket fall from my lap. I will never forget his expression, or his words. “You’ll have to get an abortion.”

In my worst nightmares, I never imagined that. He delivered his line so coolly, as if killing his own grandchild, his only grandchild, meant nothing to him.

I staggered back. Hermione caught me and guided me to my chair. Father pointed a finger at her and said to me, “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll throw her off Morgade Island without a reference.”

I never expected what happened next. Never imagined it could happen. Neither did Father, by the look on his face. Mother charged from her hiding place at the top of the secret passage, shouting in Japanese. I understood her, because she taught me the language, but I was the only one in the room. Yet everyone caught the gist. She told Father No. Not just a little No! It was such an emphatic No to everything he had said. He retreated like a giant flounder before a small, vicious shark. Now, two hours later, I think it’s funny. Wildly, inappropriately, weirdly funny. Mother, attacking Father, making him run away. He didn’t even know what she was saying to him. It was lovely. If I hadn’t been so astonished, I would have cheered.

As an aside, I don’t think anyone has to bring my dinner up the secret passage anymore.