Page 93 of The Best-Kept Secrets
They approached the combatants. Grandmother, Father, and Aunt Penelope stood nearest each other wearing expressions of distrust. Mother stood a bit apart, watching them anxiously. Uncle Niles paced in the open doorway of the bedchamber Grandmother was using, watching the group with equal parts concern and frustration.
“We have lost everything your father worked so hard to preserve,” Grandmother said to Aunt Penelope. “If not for your selfishness, we would have our land still.”
“If you cannot feel sorrowful for Liam’s loss,” Mother said, “I would think you could at least grieve for Duke’s. Writtlestone could never be Ballycar’s equal.”
“Of all the members of this family,” Aunt Penelope said, “Duke is the one my heart aches for most.”
Father folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to lecture us now about how we don’t love our son? We had plenty of that last evening.”
“Yes, but did you actually listen to any of it?”
“You always were cruel,” Mother snipped.
“And selfish,” Grandmother added. “I hope Ballycar rests on your conscience, Penelope.”
Duke glanced at Colm, who was looking more like a war-hardened soldier the longer this confrontation dragged on.
“The family estate was lost the way most things are,” Aunt Penelope said firmly and calmly but with a tense edge to her voice. “Through bad luck and bad decisions, neither of which was mine.”
Father didn’t let that explanation go without comment. “That’s how things are lost, are they? Then, whose bad decisions are the reason Luke and Róisín were lost?”
Shock descended on the instant, with all eyes on Father.
“What the devil?” Duke whispered in disbelief.
Tears pooled in Aunt Penelope’s eyes, heartrending pain in her expression. Duke took a step toward her, the mediator in him sparking to life, his mind whirling, not having heard his father say anything so brutal to his sister before. Colm moved in the exact moment Duke did. But neither of them managed more than a single step before Uncle Niles’s authoritative voice cut into the tense moment.
“I have held my tongue from the moment you arrived, Liam, because my wife pleaded with me to. Repeatedly.” He moved with slow, menacing steps toward Father. In that moment, Duke could, for the first time, see in his usually sedate uncle the potently dangerous prizefighter he had once been. “She does that every time, you realize. She tries to save you from yourself. Tries to save Colm and me from you. But as you well know, I never manage to bite my tongue indefinitely. And after what you have just said, I don’t intend to do soeveragain.”
Colm’s voice emerged as tense and menacing as his father’s. “My brother and sister will not be used as weapons against my mother.”
Father’s eyes met Duke’s for a fraction of a moment, before flitting to the angry Greenberry men once more. “I shouldn’t have said—”
“I have not the least interest in your excuses.” The white-hot anger that flashed through Uncle Niles’s eyes sent even Duke back a step. “If I ever hear you speak of my children again, I will do far more than toss you out of my house.”
Colm crossed to his mother’s side and put his arms around her.
“The subject ofmyson was thrown like a spear at me last evening,” Father said defiantly. “None of you came tomydefense. No one comfortedmywife.”
Duke at last found his voice. “Do not use me as justification for what you said. Mocking a mother’s grief? How could you be so cruel?”
Uncle Niles was still glaring at Father. “Your carriage will be leaving Fairfield in one hour, and you will be in it whether or not you have finished your packing.”
Grandmother never had been one to ignore a chance for abandoning a family member who didn’t currently hold the upper hand. “That really was badly done of you, Liam. You can hardly be surprised that you’re being asked to leave.”
Uncle Niles turned immediately to her, though he didn’t walk in her direction. “You are leaving as well.”
Clearly offended, Grandmother pressed her hand to her heart. “I am Penelope’s mother.”
“A mother who couldn’t be bothered to be here while Penelope buried her children. A mother who insults her more often than she comforts. You have hurt her long enough, and it will no longer be endured. It should not have been endured this long.”
“Penelope,” Grandmother said, “talk some sense into your husband.”
She swiped at a tear but faced her mother directly, Colm’s arm still tucked supportively around her. “You came from Ireland to visit Liam at Writtlestone. It’s time you finished your journey.”
Grandmother didn’t seem to believe what she was seeing and hearing. “But it is almost Christmas.”
Colm gave a single, crisp nod of his head. “You can consider your departure a Christmas gift to your remaining grandchildren.”
