Page 62 of A Lovely White Christmastide
Uncle Waverly let out an indignant snort. “Of course you would think such a thing. I will have you know that while Mr. Key—pardon me, Kaye, may not be deep in the pockets, Bingham has assured me his estate is solvent and his father is respected. And with the improvements they have made in addition to prudent investments, I would not be surprised if his holdings surpassed yours within the next few years. But that is not the problem is it, Haynes? Can’t let go and let the girls live normal lives, can you? It’s all about tight-fisted control, isn’t it? Do you plan to hold onto them so tight that you suffocate the will to live out of them too?”
Her father pushed past her, heat from his anger puffing against her cheek. “I should call you out for that.”
“Anytime, anywhere.” Uncle Waverly came toe to toe with her father. “I love those girls, and I refuse to watch you treat them like dolls to be placed in wood crates for safekeeping. They are living breathing people, Haynes, with feelings and lives to live.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Uncle Waverly’s voice rose with her father’s. “Then let them decide their own paths! Julianna has found a fine man. In truth, I do not know many finer. Give her your blessing and step out of her way.”
The stricken look that crossed her father’s weathered features was familiar. It appeared every time he came across a painting of their mother. The loss and sorrow written in the lines on his face pained her. Fear was what kept him from letting go. Fear and his deep love for them.
Her father stepped back, wiping the strained expression from his face and replacing it with contempt. A hand slipped into hers and she turned in surprise to see Daniel. He did not look at her, but kept his gaze trained on the two men who still appeared ready to go to battle.
Almost simultaneously both her uncle and father heaved out a sigh and dropped their defensive stances.
“Fine,” her father said. “But I still intend on questioning the boy.”
“I look forward to it,” Daniel said, drawing everyone’s attention.
Her father’s gaze followed down her arm to where she and Daniel’s hands were interconnected and his lips puckered as if he’d sucked on a lemon. She knew he hated change, knew he struggled to let go, but how could he ask her to remain standing still when the world went on around them? Even his life continued on.
The knowledge was just what she needed to turn the tables. “How is the Widow Westwood, Papa?”
His brows inched toward his hairline, then a small smile pulled at his lips. Straight shoulders relaxed as he clasped his hands behind his back, a satisfied expression washing over his face. Victory erupted in her chest. Not a word had been spoken, but with one mention ofhischanging life, he’d conceded defeat. At least his stance had.
“I am to be congratulated. She has agreed to be my wife.”
A strangled cry came from the doorway behind them and Julianna spun. Beth was pale and stricken, then she turned and fled.
Julianna wrenched her hand free of Daniel’s and rushed after her.
“Beth,” she called, but her sister was too fast. Beth rushed up the stairs and into her bedroom, locking the door before Julianna could reach it.
Julianna pressed her lips against the crack between the pieces of wood. “Please let me in, Beth.”
No answer came, only muffled sobbing. She knocked, but to no avail.
Aunt Waverly’s gentle arm encircled her waist. “Best to let her cry it out, dear. She will talk when she is ready. Your father’s announcement came as a big shock.”
“You heard him?”
“Who could not? The man talks as if the house were filled with cannon fire. Even your uncle was shaking the place with his angry words.”
“I am so sorry, Aunt. I seem to be causing you no end of trouble.”
Aunt Waverly patted her arm. “Nonsense. It is all the men around you that are the problem. They have brought no end of drama to this house of late, and yet they think we women are the hysterical, irrational ones.”
Julianna chuckled. “It is quite the paradox.”
“It is. Do not mind what any of them say, my dear. Your father and uncle, and even my nephew have little bearing on your future, but a very concerned young man downstairs does. And if I have not missed my mark, he wishes to speak with you and ascertain if you are well. Which, might I add, makes this poor old heart happy. It is not every day that I plan a match that works out as well as yours.”
“Plan?” Julianna pulled out of her grasp and stared at her aunt’s smug face. “You did not.”
“I did. Why else do you think I invited you all here?”
“But Uncle Waverly?—”
“Has been a party to my schemes the whole time.”
