Page 6 of The Best-Kept Secrets
“We could have returned to Town and let the same house we did during the Season,” Father insisted.
“There are fifteen people attending. The London house wouldn’t be large enough,” Duke said. “Fairfield was chosen for purely practical purposes.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
Of course he did.
“Do you truly think I wouldn’t have objected if Fairfield were selected as a way of slighting our branch of the Seymour family?” Sometimes reminders of his past fealty helped ease contradictory accusations.
Father, at last, looked a little less offended. “You have always spoken in defense of us.”
“And always will.” It was, in many ways, a matter of survival.
Father’s posture stiffened. “I trust you will do so again during this house party when your aunt inevitably begins belittling us to anyone who will listen.”
Duke knew full well his aunt would do nothing of the sort. She had enough decorum to not air family grievances in public. Even in private, she was never the instigator of the family rows. She was seldom even a true participant, choosing instead to either silently endure the barbs aimed at her or to defend herself against them when the complaints didn’t end in a timely manner.
“I will not allow you or Mother to be unkindly or unfairly treated,” Duke promised. It was a promise he knew he could keep because they were seldom therecipientsof unfair treatment from Aunt Penelope or Uncle Niles.
Father nodded firmly.
Hoping the topic was done with, at least for the time, Duke said, “I need to be on my way.”
“I talked with Mrs. Smedley last night,” Father said. “She won’t be traveling with you to Dublin.”
“Is she unwell?” Duke hadn’t heard that his former governess had fallen ill or become injured.
Father shook his head and sat on the other side of Duke. “She is as hale as always.”
Duke was relieved to hear that, but there was yet another difficulty. “I cannot undertake a several days’ long journey in the exclusive company of two unmarried young ladies. Their reputations would be ruined, and I would gain one I’d rather not have.”
“That is not what I’m suggesting, I assure you,” Father said. “Your grandmother is journeying here from Dublin, having decided to do so with the intention of seeingyou, but since you will not be here...”
Clearly, Duke was meant to piece together what came next, but his father had left too much unsaid to fully grasp his intent. Duke didn’t have to wait long to learn the rest.
“As your holiday plans with your friends have robbed your grandmother of the opportunity to see you, which she is taking great pains to do,” Father said, “you will travel with her from Dublin. That will afford her some time in your company. I cannot imagine you would deny your grandmother a few days with her grandson. And her presence in the carriage will lend the propriety you require for your journey with the O’Doyle sisters.”
Duke shook his head. “Writtlestone is not at all on the way to Surrey. I cannot detour so far without—”
“I meant that you should take her with youto Surrey.” Father then added with unnerving satisfaction, “To Fairfield.”
Fairfield. Father hadn’t revoked Duke’s arrangement with Mrs. Smedley in order to give his mother time with her grandson but rather to cause Aunt Penelope consternation by sending their mother, unannounced, to her home, a mother who managed to regularly torment her children. Father’s interference was an act of petty revenge that perfectly suited the decades-long family feud.
“Do Aunt Penelope and Uncle Niles know that Grandmother is coming to Fairfield?”
Father’s mouth pulled tight. He arched an eyebrow. “She is Penelope’s mother. What kind of daughter would be horrified at the idea of her mother visiting?”
The issue, if one were being fair, was not with the daughter but with the mother. But Father was never fair in matters involving his sister. And his evasive answer to Duke’s question was all the answer Duke really needed.
“Will you at least send word to Fairfield that Grandmother is arriving so preparations can be made?”
Father’s expression hardened. “I will write to your aunt when she writes to me, which she never does.”
“By not telling her, you are requiringmeto do so,” Duke said.
“I have full faith in your ability to smooth things over. You are very good at that.”
Did his family have any idea how exhausting it was to fill that role? He wanted his family to be at peace, to be happy together, but all his efforts felt, and often proved, insufficient.
