Page 22 of Only a Lyon Will Do
“Hello, Father,” she said softly as she stared into his familiar face. Clearly, she was the last person he expected to walk in his door.
“Patience,” he said, though there was no softness in his tone.
“Father—” she started, but was interrupted by another customer coming up to ask a quick question. Patience’s father politely answered, the tone of a kind man she had missed. But there was no kindness in his expression when he looked at her. Not anymore. Once the customer left, he turned back to his daughter.
“Come with me, Patience,” he demanded.
He started walking toward the back of the store. Something fragile—glass or porcelain, perhaps—shattered and she heard her mother’s voice call out her name. Her father made a motion with his hand for her mother to follow them before he barked further orders.
“Jane, be a good girl and clean up the mess Mrs. Barnet made with that plate. Harry, take over at the counter while I have a talk with my…your… niece,” her father said before they entered the back room.
Patience followed slowly, feeling her mother rush up behind them. She could hear her mother sniffle, and she held back her own tears when her mother reached for her hand to give it a brief squeeze.
They didn’t stay in the storage area they entered but continued through the room packed with boxes of every size until her father reached a door in the back. Patience held her breath knowing the door was the back entrance to her old home. When she walked through it, her knees began to buckle, and she quickly stretched out her hand for a nearby chair to steady her.
Her father pulled her mother to stand next to him before he turned angry blue eyes to her. “What are you doing here, girl?” he snarled. “I thought I told you not to come back.”
“David, this is our daughter,” her mother said softly, reaching her hand to touch his arm. He shook it off. Her mother turned to her, tears filling her eyes. “Patience, dearest.”
“Hello, Mother,” Patience said, her voice shaky from trying to keep her composure.
“David, surely you must forgive her after all these years. She has finally come home. She’s our daughter!”
“Deborah, quiet,” her father snapped at his wife. He turned back to Patience, though his face was still lined in anger. “She is no daughter of mine.”
Patience bit the inside of her lip, tears burning her eyes as she stared at her father. “Papa.”
“Don’t,” he said. “You deserted us years ago. I have no wish to hear your previous name for me.”
“But, David, she was in love. Such devotion to the man she cared for should be commended not frowned upon.”
“She married without our consent!” he bellowed.
Patience stepped forward. “Please, Father, can we not put the past behind us? I came here to make amends, to try and repair the rift between us.”
“How are we to know this is genuine and not some cruel ruse to insult us further?” He began before he pointed to her clothing. “By the way you’re dressed, I suppose you’re a lady in high society. We are surely too low for you to bother yourself with.”
“I wouldn’t say that, no. I just have friends in higher places.”
“Is that a threat? You would send your rich friends to come take my shop from me?”
“Never!” Patience said wondering how this conversation had turned in such a terrible direction.
“David! Such an accusation is abhorrent!” Deborah snapped at her husband.
“After all the scum who have recently been trying to persuade me to sell our shop to convert it for a pleasure den, I wouldn’tbe surprised if someone decided to change tactics and use our daughter to try and sway me to sell it. You came in with fashionable women—have they paid you to come here and persuade me?”
“Father, I simply came to make amends. My friends are only that, my friends. They have no other motives except to support me by coming here to see you. You may berate me all you want, but take care as to how you speak of them.”
“I don’t give a fig about who your friends are. If you’ve said your peace, you can leave the way you entered.”
“Father, please,” Patience said making one last attempt for him to truly hear her. “I know what I did was wrong. I know that I hurt you and mother when I left. But I loved Stuart and he loved me, and he treated me with kindness and respect. That is the only thing you ever wanted for me, and though you did not consent to our union, he was everything you would have wanted for a son-in-law. He was a good and honorable man who died serving his country. I’m proud to have been his wife.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Deborah said, coming over and taking her daughter into her arms for a hug. “I’m so glad you are here, dearest.”
“I’ve missed you, Mother,” Patience whispered, her tears falling lightly onto her mother’s shoulder. She looked up toward her father, who watched them stubbornly, though his expression had softened. “Papa.”
She held her hand out to him. He took a moment before he walked over. He stood there in indecision before he finally reached out to take her hand. He gave it a light squeeze as they used to do when she was a child.
