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Self-Control, Mary Brunton

Father didn’t say a word.

Everything made sense now. That was the real reason he wanted her gone. For if she left, so left all possibilities of their past being discovered, and he would avoid once and for all the fear of others finding out that he might have raised a daughter who was not even his.

Instead of the anger she was tempted to feel for his behavior, for his embarrassment of her and not believing she was his, she prayed to Heaven for peace, where Father had none. And she prayed for comfort, where Father had none.

Until all at once, compassion filled her heart.

Instead of the heartless soul she expected to see in her father, she witnessed only sorrow in his eyes and the weary lines in his brow. And instead of the cruel behavior she knew she could focus on, her heart reached out to him, for he had not healed from what Mother had done to him.

How could that be so, that Livvy had made strides where Father had not—could not?

Slowly, she walked toward him. Resting a hand on his arm, she eyed his dark curls that so resembled her own, his blue eyes that mirrored hers, and waited until he looked at her.

“I can’t imagine the ’eartache ye experienced at the ’ands o’ Mother, the woman ye loved.”

He looked away, but again, she waited until he looked back. This time his blue eyes were burdened with red markings as he fought his tears.

“I, too, suffered untold grief,” she continued. “But I learned that, despite our own physical similarities and outward appearances, I chose to call ye Father ’cause ye be the only father I’ve e’er known. The only father on earth I care to know. For it be ye who comforted me when I ’ad night terrors. It be ye who ’eld me ’and at Mother’s funeral. And it be ye who furnished me love o’ readin’. Ye did all o’ that despite what could possibly be discovered—that ye be raisin’ someone else’s daugh’er.”

His jaw twitched over and over again as he clenched his teeth together, working through his emotions.

“I don’t blame ye,” she whispered. “Nor do I resent ye. Any man would’ve ’ad a difficult time. But…” She drew a deep breath, determining to be firm and resolved. “But we can’t go on livin’ like this any longer.”

He peered down at her, his eyes hardening, though she continued resolutely. “I be stayin’ on the Mount. I be facin’ the rumors, standin’ up to ’em. And I…I’ll be marryin’ August Moon.”

Just as she’d expected, fire flashed in his eyes. “I forbid it,” he said at once. “That man betrayed me, and yourself. Surely ye can see it.”

She remained calm, knowing no good would come from them both being livid. “No, Father. ’E didn’t betray either one o’ we. ’E be the only honest one.”

He frowned, shaking his head. His eyes flicked over her shoulder toward the Mount, then straight back to her. “If ye marry ’im, ye’ll end up just like your mother. Miserable and six feet under.”

She winced at his harsh words, knowing they were born of grief. “No, I shan’t. I’ll be ’appy with August. I’ll be ’appy on the Mount. Just as I always ’ave been.”

Again, his eyes flicked over her shoulder, but he turned away. “The rumors’ll destroy ye. Your oddities’ll be the talk o’ the Mount fore’er.”

His words threatened to break her peace, but she held strong to her knowledge of August’s love. “For so long,” she began softly, “I’ve ’eld to the knowledge that I be the strangest person on the Mount—e’en the strangest in Cornwall…’cause ye’ve fed me that truth for me whole life. But now I see, with August’s ’elp, that I can be odd, I can be different, and still be accepted.”

Father’s nostrils flared, the tips of them turning white. “If ye marry ’im, ye’ll ’ave to leave the Mount anyway. ’E’ll ’ave no work for ’im at the castle.”

To her utter shock, such news did nothing to weaken Livvy’s determination. But how could that be? After all, she had fought for so long to remain on the Mount because that was where she was happiest.

But then, perhaps it wasn’t the Mount that made her happy. Perhaps it had always been the hope, the prospect of being with August—even through all those years he’d been gone—that had kept her on the Mount.

Because she loved him more than she even loved the island.

The truth of those words settled any remaining doubt in her mind. “Then off the Mount, I will live,” she said. “I’ll be ’appy, so long as I can be with the man I love.”

“Love,” Father scoffed.

A soft noise on the wind reached her ear, but she ignored it, forcing her eyes to remain on Father. “Yes, love, Father. What ye felt for Mother. What she ought to ’ave felt for us. What I know ye still feel for me.”

Again, his eyes flashed over her shoulder, and he turned away. “Mark me words. Ye’ll live to regret stayin’. And ye’ll regret e’er fallin’ for that man.”

He tossed his head behind her, and she paused. August? Was he—

She was about to turn around when Father stepped away from her, catching her attention.