Page 13 of A Sight to Behold
“Mine does. Every time I enter the breakfast room, his mien darkens. I’m a walking and talking disappointment for him, and since we live together, I’m also a constant reminder of the failure I am. When he looks at me, I can tell there’s nothing left but a pit of sorrow that I’m still around.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“It is now. Since Mother—” Pippa winced. She still couldn’t speak of her in the past tense. There was such finality to her departure, making her death too real. She’d learned so much from her mother, and she always carried her in her heart. How could she speak of her as if she were gone if she was a constant presence in Pippa’s mind?
“Pippa, he’s grieving. Or perhaps unwell.”
“If he were grieving, he wouldn’t be on wife number six now. And he’s well enough to poke fun at me.”
“I cannot believe that your words have any truth. He must love you; you’re his only child, and he is happy to have you here.”
“Oh please, Bea! It is not so, and you know it. If I married someone, I’d be out of his sight. He’d be relieved to get me as far away as the moon.”
“Have you ever considered the possibility that fathers wish their daughters looked after rather than married off? It’s why my parents didn’t take me on their diplomatic travels; they want to keep me safe.”
“If I were more like you, pretty and popular, he’d have a reason to love me!” Pippa inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh. Poor Bea was so pretty; she didn’t even know how lucky she was. She wasn’t a clumsy goose like Pippa. “Or if I had married a well-connected earl as Violet did with Henry, father would have a reason to be proud of me.”
“And what makes you think he’s not proud of you now? Perhaps he can’t show it. You’re the sweetest person I know and probably one of the smartest. You grew a pineapple tree from kitchen scraps!”
“It was a pineapple crown. You’re meant to plant them so they can grow into a new plant.”
“You know that because you’re brilliant, Pippa. It’s kitchen scraps for everyone else. You even know it’s called a crown. Who knows these things but geniuses?”
“Readers of Ellington’sIllustrated Compendium on Botany.”
“My point exactly. It’s not a book for normal people; it’s a treatise. I couldn’t understand it even if I tried.”
She brushed this assertion aside as inconsequential. Bea didn’t give herself enough credit. But she, herself, was a different story. “I don’tdoanything smart; I knock over platters ofsandwiches and take my leave from coat stands instead of hosts.”
“We all make mistakes and embarrass ourselves sometimes. It happens, but it doesn’t mean that we become our mistakes. Just don’t dwell on it.” Bea waved her hand in the air.
Pippa sat up and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her hands. “There’s nothing but dwelling left to do. It’s been going on for so long. I don’t think he remembers how it was to love me. Every disappointment I brought on him washed away the bedrock of what was a river of love when Mother was alive. It’s all eroded away now.”
“Stone is harder than water.”
“Yes, but rivers shape the rocks. They polish and break them and turn boulders to sand.”
“Pippa, this is a lovely metaphor and a token of your intelligence when you speak of it, but you’re not making any sense. Love doesn’t just wash away.”
“Shame can wash love away. Disappointment essentially dissolves it. My father doesn’t have any love left for me.” Pippa took a deep breath, expecting the tears to roll down her cheeks, but none came. She had no tears left to cry over her father. The break between them had gone so deep that a cleft as wide as a chasm had opened, and there was no bridge to make her feel for him again. He’d done that. Society had done that. Her father had valued the opinion of mere strangers over his daughter’s heart. And here she was, a guest in her home, unwelcome even though she was part of the family. The lucky daughter of a duke to outsiders was a sad captive in a gilded cage atop an ivory tower, locked away on a high mountain of grief, disillusionment, and heartbreak. So, it was true that not only lovers but also a parent could break the child’s heart, resulting in unbearable pain.
“Consider this.” Pippa straightened her back and shook her hair, so it spilled over her shoulders and down her back. “Everytime he entertains people, and I do something stupid, he’s embarrassed. Over time, he anticipates that I will do something like drink from another guest’s glass and tuck the tablecloth in my sleeve instead of a handkerchief, clearing the table when I take my leave. Or he sees a room with a large palm as a threat to my reputation because I’ll mistakenly greet the plant instead of the hostess with a feather hat.”
Bea pinched her lips but wasn’t hiding the whistle for her nose when she suppressed the laugh.
“See? I’m the laughingstock of the Ton. In his world, I cannot compete with someone like Violet.” Pippa couldn’t fathom how Violet could have become the Countess of Langley even though she’d been at her wedding. Why did the nasty girls get so lucky in life?
It wasn’t that Pippa envied her; she truly didn’t, but it was a riddle, nonetheless. There had to be a return on investment, a reward for a good nature or hard work. What had Violet ever done to earn such acclaim in society? Couldn’t the universe punish the lazy and wicked people and reward the good ones whose hearts were pure?
“But she’s mean, and she married someone she didn’t even love,” Bea spoke Pippa’s mind.
“She married an earl in her first season. She’s a success. She checked off all the criteria in my father’s book of female accomplishments. If she were his daughter, he’d be happy.”
“He must be happy with you, Pippa.”
“Must be, yes. But he can’t.” Pippa tried to steady her already frayed nerves. “He can’t see who I am. He’s long stopped bothering to look.” It was true—as soon as anything triggered her father’s scorn, he turned his back on her and then was outright mean. He joked about her as if he could distance himself from any embarrassment by mocking Pippa. When he’d only done it at balls and social gatherings, Pippa had had thechance to avoid his jibes by withdrawing into their stately home and tending to her orangery.
However, he even joked in front of the butler, the footmen, and the cook these days. “Don’t make a cream pie if we’re eating in a carpeted room, or else Pippa will smear it all over, and it’s more trouble to clean it up than crumbs from a teacake.”
