In Good Conscience by Gardiner Cat

Author:Gardiner, Cat [Gardiner, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vanity & Pride Press
Published: 2018-08-26T23:00:00+00:00

15

Mamma Mia

As a unified force, the sisters walked down the hallway toward the dining room with clasped hands. Jane’s hand was warm and soothing—strong, like an older sister’s grasp should be when caring for her younger sibling. And make no mistake, she felt like the sixteen-year-old who’d woken to learn that her mother split in the middle of the night without a good-bye. Although she swore she forgave Frances last year, she was still in need of that rare sensible and protective Jane at this very moment. All her personal walls and the constructs of her life—as she knew it—were falling apart one by one. Pemberley, Fitzwilliam, her mother. How much more could she take?

She heard her parents talking and set her shoulders back, innately defiant, but holding onto that not-so-stupid quote from The Count of Monte Cristo. Admittedly, this was the ultimate happiness to her father’s miserable life. He’d never stopped loving Frances or feeling guilty for her departure. Had she not herself dreamed of bailing on him many times under the strain of his needs? Had she not “abandoned” him after she moved to Pemberley last summer?

Silently, she prayed for Fitzwilliam’s wisdom and assistance, and feeling him all around her, caressed the necklace as if channeling his strength through the love they’d shared.

When they crossed the threshold, the long dining table separated the two opposing forces. Her parents’ hands lay piled one on top of the other at the corner of the table. They simultaneously looked up, and Liz’s fingers tapped her thigh at the sight they presented: as united a force as their daughters. Her mother cried, her father comforted, and the “rest of their family” stood outside that private world of marital affection and reconciliation after years of self-serving deprivation. In a small measure, she could understand. Fitzwilliam was her life and their love was the only all-encompassing force in their private and secluded world. Their understanding of each other was not open for dissection or critique to outsiders. It was between them. The difference between them and her parents was that his “departure” from their world—his tragic death—was in the act of self-immolation in order to keep her safe. Unlike her mother, he wouldn’t be returning, and further he assured that her future was safe. She was free from Diablo’s retaliation. It was a heavy cross to bear, knowing that he gave his life for hers.

She tried to imagine how her father felt, having believed Frances dead (metaphorically)—and then her showing up on his doorstep. It must have shocked him for sure.

Frances abruptly stood, her gaze holding her daughters as she swallowed hard then cautiously walked around the table to them, taking a step with each sentence she expressed. “I know this is … shocking, right? [step] “And I know how angry you must be even after all these years.” [step] “My daughters …” she stopped and more tears rolled down her ruddy face, then took another step closer. “I want you to know, I

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