honorable employment.”
“Your mother had a kind heart.”
“She didn't do it to be nice, Mr. Stennett. My mother was a very complicated woman and her motives for doing anything were always complex. I doubt very muchwhether considerations of kindness came into her decision at all.”
His head tilted to the side and his brows knit, Stennett quietly asked, “So why did she do it? Your best guess.”
“I think she saw in it the opportunity to humiliate someone who had been her social equal.”
“That's pretty damn spiteful.”
“I'll never forgive my father for abandoning us, Mr. Stennett, but I can understand why he left. In looking back at my childhood, I've often wondered why he stayed as long as he did.”
“Why didn't Richard marry Mrs. Beechum when the dust settled?”
“Richard was changed by the accident,” she said simply. “I know that he's always considered his survival as a cruel sentence issued by a black-hearted God. Before the accident he was quite the man about town. After the accident … It was as though the light in him went out. Even as a small child, I noticed it. As far as I know, he and Abigail haven't spoken since that god-awful day.”
“Does he still have feelings for her?”
“Not that I've ever heard him voice.”
Stennett nodded slowly and then asked, “Does she still have feelings for Richard?”
“I believe so. While you were going through the correspondence before luncheon, she and I shared a pot of tea. She'd been crying before I got there.”
“You didn't ask her why?”
“There's an unspoken rule among the MacPhaulls, Mr. Stennett. We don't talk about unpleasant and upsetting realities. It's one thing to be insulting and demanding. It's quite another to rationally discuss a fundamental truth that challenges our illusions of having a perfect life. In fact, among the MacPhaulls, the former is used to avoid the latter. And very effectively, I might add. Amidst all the screaming and foot stamping, it's utterly impossible to have any sort of calm and logical discussion about financial matters, personal heartaches, the issue of responsibility, or the necessity of sacrifice.”
“How do you live with that?”
Lindsay smiled tightly. “Rather uncomfortably. Agatha and Henry, on the other hand …”
“So if at dinner this evening I happen to look up and see a group of men carrying the furniture out of the drawing room I should—”
“Ask someone to pass you the bread and mention that you think the weather is quite nice for this time of the year.”
“What if they come for the dining-room table? And the plates and silverware?”
“Oh,” she replied blithely, “that would force the issue. Having your meal carted away does command attention and would make one wonder why it's happening. And one would naturally suspect that it would be because of finances. Rather than discuss that, though, Henry would likely insult someone and a screaming match would ensue. Agatha would become hysterical for some reason or another. In dealing with the two of them, the fact that the furniture is being taken away would be ignored. And when the final door is slammed, the MacPhaulls will have avoided any discussion of the fact that financial matters are less than perfectly ideal. As I said, Mr. Stennett, we do not talk about unpleasant realities.”
He expelled a hard breath and cocked a brow. “The MacPhaulls are in for a rude awakening. There's no way I can pretend that the circumstances are anything other than what they are. Billy died and left me to sweep up the debris. I intend to do it.”
Lindsay shrugged and looked out the carriage window, observing, “Then you're in for a few rude awakenings of your own, Mr. Stennett.”
B EN T IPTON WAS —although he tried to hide it—vastly relieved to learn that the change in company ownership didn't mean a change in his employment. He produced the books and stood ready to answer any questions Jackson might have. The ledgers were
“Your mother had a kind heart.”
“She didn't do it to be nice, Mr. Stennett. My mother was a very complicated woman and her motives for doing anything were always complex. I doubt very muchwhether considerations of kindness came into her decision at all.”
His head tilted to the side and his brows knit, Stennett quietly asked, “So why did she do it? Your best guess.”
“I think she saw in it the opportunity to humiliate someone who had been her social equal.”
“That's pretty damn spiteful.”
“I'll never forgive my father for abandoning us, Mr. Stennett, but I can understand why he left. In looking back at my childhood, I've often wondered why he stayed as long as he did.”
“Why didn't Richard marry Mrs. Beechum when the dust settled?”
“Richard was changed by the accident,” she said simply. “I know that he's always considered his survival as a cruel sentence issued by a black-hearted God. Before the accident he was quite the man about town. After the accident … It was as though the light in him went out. Even as a small child, I noticed it. As far as I know, he and Abigail haven't spoken since that god-awful day.”
“Does he still have feelings for her?”
“Not that I've ever heard him voice.”
Stennett nodded slowly and then asked, “Does she still have feelings for Richard?”
“I believe so. While you were going through the correspondence before luncheon, she and I shared a pot of tea. She'd been crying before I got there.”
“You didn't ask her why?”
“There's an unspoken rule among the MacPhaulls, Mr. Stennett. We don't talk about unpleasant and upsetting realities. It's one thing to be insulting and demanding. It's quite another to rationally discuss a fundamental truth that challenges our illusions of having a perfect life. In fact, among the MacPhaulls, the former is used to avoid the latter. And very effectively, I might add. Amidst all the screaming and foot stamping, it's utterly impossible to have any sort of calm and logical discussion about financial matters, personal heartaches, the issue of responsibility, or the necessity of sacrifice.”
“How do you live with that?”
Lindsay smiled tightly. “Rather uncomfortably. Agatha and Henry, on the other hand …”
“So if at dinner this evening I happen to look up and see a group of men carrying the furniture out of the drawing room I should—”
“Ask someone to pass you the bread and mention that you think the weather is quite nice for this time of the year.”
“What if they come for the dining-room table? And the plates and silverware?”
“Oh,” she replied blithely, “that would force the issue. Having your meal carted away does command attention and would make one wonder why it's happening. And one would naturally suspect that it would be because of finances. Rather than discuss that, though, Henry would likely insult someone and a screaming match would ensue. Agatha would become hysterical for some reason or another. In dealing with the two of them, the fact that the furniture is being taken away would be ignored. And when the final door is slammed, the MacPhaulls will have avoided any discussion of the fact that financial matters are less than perfectly ideal. As I said, Mr. Stennett, we do not talk about unpleasant realities.”
He expelled a hard breath and cocked a brow. “The MacPhaulls are in for a rude awakening. There's no way I can pretend that the circumstances are anything other than what they are. Billy died and left me to sweep up the debris. I intend to do it.”
Lindsay shrugged and looked out the carriage window, observing, “Then you're in for a few rude awakenings of your own, Mr. Stennett.”
B EN T IPTON WAS —although he tried to hide it—vastly relieved to learn that the change in company ownership didn't mean a change in his employment. He produced the books and stood ready to answer any questions Jackson might have. The ledgers were
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