Anne would pass the post office almost every day to inquire for letters, just so that she might have them a little earlier. Alice didn’t write as often as Anne wished, but each letter brought a sparkle of hope, no matter how formal and reserved their contents. At least Alice still wrote to them.
 
“Ward. Let’s see, here you go, love.”
 
The letter was heavier than usual and that was promising. Perhaps this time Alice wrote more than that she and the baby were doing well and that they were now in this or that stage of the agricultural year.
 
The letter was opened before she stepped out of the post office. Anne found herself staring at another letter wrapped in the one she had just opened. Lory? Why was Alice writing to Lory? Of course, she didn’t know what wicked things Lory was up to nowadays – father had explained it to Anne quite clearly and had warned her to stay clear of her cousin – or did she? Why else would she not send it to Lory’s old address but instruct Anne to give it to her cousin. But why would Alice write to Lory if she knew?
 
Anne read through the letter addressed to her and her family. Alice was coming to Whitby for the Regatta! Tobias was joining one of the yachts!
 
When she had read through the letter a few times, her attention was once again drawn to the other one. She tucked the read letter away and began to walk in the direction of the Diamond Pony, staring at it.
 
Alice had never kept any secrets from her before she had gotten pregnant. But nowadays Anne felt like she barely knew her sister anymore and Alice seemed to work hard at keeping it that way. It hurt her every time.
 
The letter sat there in her hand. It wasn’t sealed.
 
She found a quiet corner, looked around, and then opened it quickly, before she could change her mind.
 

Dear Lory,
 
I hope you are doing well and that your family is well. When we talked, some weeks ago, you asked me to join yourself and the girls to watch the Regatta and I told you I couldn’t. I am glad to tell you that we will be in Whitby for the Regatta as Tobias is participating. I would love to join you, if you are still planning to watch.
 
Please let me know. A short note will do. I would love to write more, but you know I’ve always found the written word so restrictive. We will be at liberty to speak all we want when we see each other.  
 
Yours truly,
Alice

 
Alice was going to watch the Regatta with Lory, rather than with her? But they had always watched it together!
 
Once again, she felt the waters between herself and her sister grow, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop Alice from drifting away.
 
She could tear up the stupid letter.
 
She could rip it to a thousand pieces! Toss it in the Esk! Write an angry letter to Alice to tell her that father would never allow it!
 
But then she would have to confess that she had read the letter and Alice might only shun her even more.
 
And so the letter found its way into the Diamond Pony postbox in the end. Anne hurried away as fast as her blurred vision allowed.

There was a redhead a story up, in a blue dress and combing out her wet hair by the window. Her face was painted, earrings in and necklace clad. Her head lifted suddenly at Anne’s approach of the Diamond Pony, and the curtain pulled.

What was Anne doing here? She grabbed a pair of white heels that she never would have paired with the dress if not for rushing. Ran down the stairs, ran down the street toward where she suspected Anne would most likely be headed: Anne’s home.

Uncle Ben be damned: she had to see her!

Anne had dried her tears by the time she reached the yard, though she still looked depressed. She did not see Lory until she was a few steps in and looked up.

"Lory?" Jealousy raged in her breast, jealousy that was eagerly channeled into the appropriate disapproval. "What are you doing here? Ye look awful in that!"

Lory took a step back, still clutching her skirts to keep them off the dirt. At first, the look was pure confusion. What did Anne say? Anne would never say that. She was so kind, so sweet. She was everything her father ever wished Lory was.

“I-,” she stuttered, looking down to her dress with a frown.

Did she look awful? Was it her face? Her body? Was she already getting old? Was that why that ancient gentleman hadn’t been interested in her?

She took a steadying breath, and forced a smile that was far more of a cringe.

“I saw you by the – by my work, Anne. Did you … were you looking for me?”

She wasn’t sure how, but she had the sinking feeling she had gotten this all wrong.

Lory, oh so confident Lory, seemed to hesitate, and Anne felt some kind of wicked satisfaction over that.

"No. I'm not allowed to talk to ye. There's a letter for ye from Alice."

She looked at her cousin, all dressed up and painted. Anne couldn't believe that it was true, even now. Could Lory really sell her body after a lifetime of hearing how evil such a thing was?

"Suppose she doesn't know yet she's not allowed to talk to ye."

She felt a little bad, and more than that: sorry, for what Lory felt she had to do. But it was very depraved.

She was … so cold, so cruel. So thoughtless. Uncle Ben’s through and through.

“… Alice is smart, Anne,” Lory said, feeling her upper lip wobble in what she wasn’t quite sure was more grief or disgust.

She let her arms rest more gracefully, lifted her neck and watched Anne with a guarded look.

“Suppose it’s time to leave you to whatever Uncle Ben decides for you next.”

She waited.

Anne opened her mouth at the implied insult. Then closed it again. Being compared to her sister unfavorably just after she had learned that Alice prefered Lory's company felt raw.

So raw that she burst into angry tears. "I don't do things just because 'e decides them!"

Lie. The vast majority of her energy was spent trying to avoid or ease her father's quick temper.

"Don't ye see that what yer doin' is sinful, Lory!? How can ye do it!? And ye nearly got our dad arrested! Yer mam is so upset! Yer brother is ashamed! You - ye've ruined everything!"

Was that directed at Lory? Yes, things were falling apart even when it felt she had nothing more to lose. But even in her anger she knew Lory had very little part in that.

She regretted the words as soon as she saw the look on Anne’s face … but not enough to take them back. Why had she run to ruin? Told so many charming lies around her actions while she built a little house of straw so she could run to sticks and bricks later? Because the alternative was Alice, miserably married to a creepy old man, or Anne … too dumb to imagine a life that wasn’t dictated by one angry, violent parental figure – be it husband or father.

(Never mind that Alice had sang the same sentiment of “you should get married!”.)

“Really?” Lory retorted, one openly disbelieving little word.

Then – there it came. What she’d dreaded all along. The family was coming to ruin because of her, and her alone. There was that siren’s call of if they just did everything their temperamental uncle demanded, no one got hurt. She flinched, but then gritted her teeth behind her carefully closed mouth.

“There was nothing here to ruin, Anne. If I’m going to live in fear of men’s tempers, I might as well be able to eat afterward.”

Then, she advanced on her with a fury in her eyes.

“You know those sweet cakes you love so much, that you started getting on your birthdays?” She smiled viciously, and smacked her own ass. “This paid for those!”

That one little word was enough to make Anne sway in her conviction for a moment. Perhaps because it hadn't been very strong to begin with. Because doubt and defiance were already eating away at the corners of her reality. Because she couldn't pick the sides of all the people she loved simultaneously. Lory's reference to men's tempers only pulled more ground from underneath her. Yet she opened her mouth to argue back and reach for safety, for to stare down into the abyss at the naked truth was too much for her.

She didn't get to argue back, for Lory continued. Anne was unaware of how she stepped back as Lory stepped towards her. "No," she said in horror, as she realized that she had been picking the fruits of Lory's degradation. She felt sick with herself. Sick with the world. She stared at her cousin, no longer in anger or sadness, but with guilt and pity. "Lory." was all she was able to utter.

Wicked satisfaction was bittersweet.

“Yes,” she hissed back at her, stepping forward in sync with her back and bearing teeth between red painted lips.

And then there was her name, uttered like a prayer to wash away the history. To go back to pretending they were just two cowering women in their dead-end fates. To act as though there were any path but six feet, or God knew how many feet under water for the meek.

There was that hurt look, and her anger burned through like fire through a match. Quickly, leaving a withered, charred thing in its wake.

“I did it for us.”

That assertion had sounded a lot stronger in her head. More rage, more volume, instead of what might as well be the last weightless wisp of smoke from a burnt out match.