True Beauty

Six

"So . . . Andrew?" 

Bel almost laughed at her brother's prudence toward this. There was no Andrew; it was only a ruse to calm Cat on the subject of love. She was so bent on Bel finding it; it was all she seemed to think about. The girl had just met her less than a day ago, and she was already discussing love. She was a very open girl; her openness could ruin her later. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he demanded, stepping toward his sister. What was wrong with her lately? She seemed more relaxed, more comfortable with herself. He wondered if it was Cat, making amends with Melinda, escaping her horrible tenement, or a combination of the three.  

"I'm sure an Andrew exists somewhere in Glasgow, but I have no association with him." 

His mouth slightly fell open at her admission. He would've laughed if she was actually an accomplished liar.  

"So . . ." 

"Harry, I would've told her Louis was my lover. She is very nice, but you know how I feel discussing love. No man will ever love me, and I'm not interested in dwelling on it." 

He nodded, agreeing to not discuss it, though he was doubtful Bel was unlovable, like she claimed. Her body wasn't small, but he thought it made her unique compared to all the other girls. He wondered how she wasn't stick-thin, seeing as she barely eats.  

He looked her over, realizing that she's worn the same dress three days in a row.  

"Do you have other dresses, Bel? That's the only one I ever see you wear." 

"This is my favourite," she explained, "it was gift from Father." 

"How many do you have?" 

"Enough." 

"Isabelle." 

She cringed at the use of her full name. She didn't dislike the name, but she was named after her late mother, whom most wanted to forget because her death had been so tragic. The town loved their dressmaker and hearing the name was too unbearable. So, Harry decided to call her Bel. Not Belle; Bel, though they meant the same thing: beautiful. 

"Where is your suitcase?" he asked, leaving the room.  

Bel chased him down the corridor, calling after him. "Harry, my wardrobe is sufficient! I don't need-" 

She was cut off by her brother's glare. He stood in front of her redundant wardrobe, which had yet to be hung in the closet. She knew he wasn't angry because she had done wrong, but something still twisted inside her seeing his frustrated expression. 

"You never told me," he said quietly. 

"It's enough for me. I'm a simple girl, Harry." 

"We're going to London," he declared. "You have an inheritance that needs to be spent." 

"There's no choice, is there?" she asked apprehensively. 

"No, but why not start by taking a trip to London and getting nicer dresses? A beautiful girl needs a beautiful wardrobe, Bel." 

"Harry, I told you-" 

"I don't want to hear it. Bel, you need to catch a man's attention, and you cannot do it with an ugly wardrobe. You don't deserve to die alone." 

"I have my family and now Cat," she argued. 

"You need a husband. You'll be a fantastic wife and mother. I'd marry you off to Louis if he hadn't married Amelia's sister." 

She almost scoffed at the thought. Louis was her brother's very energetic best friend. She wasn't sure if she could live with a man as crazy as he, though he was intriguing to say the least.