Peter Montgomery sat hunched over ledgers on his desk; he had been staring at them for the better part of an hour, but had not made much progress in reconciling them. He sighed and pushed the books away, rubbing at his eyes.
Nearly a week had passed since the "incident," as it was now referred to around the house, and Peter had passed through a myriad of emotions since that time, leaving him feeling utterly spent and defeated. This entire escapade had dredged up thoughts and feelings he had spent years suppressing, things he had thought were buried so deep that they were nearly forgotten.
He had not laid eyes on Charles Stanton since that evening, when Edward had brought Elizabeth back to the house after the accident, and it were for good reason. That night, Peter had entertained thoughts of harm toward Charles; in the rage that had engulfed him at the mistreatment of his daughter and the truth of what Charles had done to his darling Lydia, Peter had feared he might even be capable of murder himself.
But where would that have left him? It would have accomplished nothing but more heartache; incarceration for life or possibly a death sentence for him, leaving his daughters helpless and destitute. He could not allow that; and so he had stayed away, not only from Charles, but from most of the others, too, working hard to conceal the anger, the hurt and the frustration bubbling within him.
How he wished that his dear, sweet Elizabeth wanted anyone other than Edward Stanton. But she had never shown an interest in any man before him. There had been several potential suitors to come around during her first year out in society, as it were, but without her mother to plan social events and to be matchmaker for her, Elizabeth didn't blossom and gain the attention that she should have. A father is not suited to such things; he had felt painfully inadequate over the years, and yet had tried earnestly to provide and do well by his precious daughters.
It was his own fault, anyhow, for giving in to Charles and letting him send Edward here; in truth, he simply didn't take the time to consider the reality of either one of his girls falling for Edward, and what would ensue. To be honest, he had never really counted Elizabeth as a possible match to either of the young men, given her reserved nature and her seemingly disinterested outlook on courting. Thinking back on it now, deep down, he had hoped all along that Charles' plan would be fruitless, and that both of his daughters would reject Edward.
In all fairness, Peter knew that it was for completely selfish reasons that he wished for Elizabeth's affections to fall onto anyone else; he could not deny that he liked the boy, and he could see that he genuinely cared for Elizabeth. Edward truly was the perfect match for his daughter. But the constant reminder he represented... Peter didn't know if he could bear it for the rest of his life.
Before, the combination of finally seeing Elizabeth's affections take an object, and his own admiration for the young man, as well as the sensibility of the match, had convinced Peter that he could overlook the fact that Edward was Charles Stanton's son. But now, after all that had transpired, now that he knew the truth about his wife's demise... Already, looking at Edward was like seeing a ghost of the past; he resembled a young Charles much more than Peter cared to admit. How could he look upon Edward for all the years to come, and not remember?
The difference was, of course, in character. Edward had a completely different way about him than his father; he was polite and considerate, kind, caring, intelligent, and brave. Everything a father could want for his daughter to be married to. Peter had given his blessing, and he could not take away Elizabeth's happiness, even if it meant that he would have to suffer some uncomfortable memories from time to time.
Then again, none of the past dealings between Charles and himself had anything to do with Edward. It was unfair of Peter to project those ill thoughts and memories onto him; he would have to make it a point to get to know Edward, apart from his father, and to create new, good memories with him, as his daughter's husband-to-be.
Peter covered his face with his hands, rubbing at his skin in weariness for a moment, trying to wipe away the ache in his head. All these melancholy thoughts had been creeping in ever since Charles Stanton had first turned up here a few months ago. Now they were his constant companion.
Charles... Peter had gone over and over in his mind just what he intended to do regarding the transgressor. The only reason he still remained in Peter's home was out of respect for Edward, and for the fact that he was injured. But Charles was on the mend now and he had given Edward time with his father, for them to work out whatever issues they needed to, and to make arrangements regarding the family business and estate. Peter felt that he had been more than fair; he knew that however he handled this situation would sit with Edward for some time to come, and seeing as he would soon be joined to Elizabeth, Peter didn't want to strike a negative chord with him and begin their in-law-relationship on the wrong foot.
Peter was most certainly relieved that Edward had understood that his father would have to be turned in to the law. He only hoped that wouldn't change throughout the process; undoubtedly, there would be some very emotional days ahead for the family. Either way, whether Edward would hate him for it or not, it had to be done. He intended to give them through Sunday, and send for the constable first thing Monday morning.
Just as he was about to return to the ledgers, a soft knock sounded on his office door. He honestly wasn't in the mood to speak with anyone, but he suspected that it was Charlotte or one of his daughters.
"Come in," he called out, smoothing his hair, trying to keep his unkempt appearance at bay, and plastered a smile on his face.
Elizabeth appeared in the space of the open door. "Papa, may I have a word with you?"
Peter blinked and swallowed, wondering what Elizabeth could want. "Yes, my dear. Please, come in."
She entered timidly, closing the door softly behind her. Settling herself in one of the cushioned chairs before his desk, she folded her hands in her lap. She sat quietly for a moment, and Peter perceived the rosy tint to her cheeks that had been painted there since the day he had spoken with her and Edward in the library.
"Papa," she began, glancing down at her lap, "I was wondering, well, how you have been faring lately..."
Her tender compassion pricked at his heart. "Oh, Lizzie, I've been quite well. No worries, my dear." It didn't feel like a lie when he was simply protecting her from needless worry.
"But, Papa," her soft eyes met his, "you don't appear to be well at all. I know that these recent happenings have weighed heavily on you; certainly it has been harder on you than any of us... I am concerned for your health and well being."
Peter sat stoically for a moment, his mind racing at her words. How had she known? Had he let the stress wear him down so much that it was apparent in his countenance? He always tried so hard to keep his worries from his daughters; they were for him to bear, not them.
Finally, he released a heavy sigh. There was no point in trying to convince her otherwise. "Yes, Elizabeth, this experience has been rather difficult for me. But I don't want to worry you, dear. I'll be fine."
She sat up straighter, leaning forward slightly, "Papa, no. You don't have to be strong for me. You always have been..." Her voice was soft, concern on her face. "I... I just want you to know that you're not alone."
Not alone.
But he had been. How long had Peter felt completely, utterly, alone? Every day since his wife had died, alone. Alone to hold the plantation together in the aftermath of the war, alone to raise their two daughters, alone at night as he lay in his bed when memories of Lydia chased away his slumber.
He sat, blinking as tears welled up in his eyes, the truth of the matter settling in. He refused to wallow in pity; this was his lot in life, and he was doing all that he could to make the best of it. It would not do to crumble in front of his daughter, not now.
"Thank you," his voice cracked, "for your concern, Elizabeth. I appreciate it greatly, I do. But this drama is nearly over; Mr. Stanton will be gone, and things will be back to normal soon. And then there will be wedding plans to attend to, I suspect." He tried a genuine smile.
"Yes," she blushed slightly, "I only ask that you take care of yourself, and get enough rest," she smiled back at him, "I can't have you taking ill, you do have to walk me down the aisle, after all."
"Well, we have a little while yet before that, my dear, but I promise I will look after my health better." He winked at her and they laughed lightly together. He was glad he had managed to lighten the mood.
A moment of silence passed and all too soon the heaviness settled upon them again.
"Papa," Elizabeth sobered, "do you plan to speak with Mr. Stanton before he leaves?"
Peter met her solemn gaze. "I doubt it, Elizabeth."
"If I may say so, I think perhaps you should reconsider that, Papa," she fidgeted with a piece of trim on her dress, as she glanced down, "I think it may do you some good. Perhaps, you could get some things off of your chest... It most certainly would help you to feel better, maybe even help you let go of some of that pain you've been carrying around..."
Peter stared at his daughter. When had she become such a mature young woman?
When he didn't reply, she continued, "It's just that, well, you might one day wish to have said some things to him, and once he's gone, you might not ever have the chance again. I went to see him with Edward, and it was a good thing. I was afraid at first, but I think Mr. Stanton needed to share with me some things as much as I needed to hear them. Please, just think about it, Papa."
He marveled at her boldness and wisdom; she was no longer his little girl, but a woman, soon to be starting a family of her own. He glanced down at his desk and swallowed. "As much as I don't want to admit it, I know you are right."
Elizabeth offered a tender smile, and he watched her, taking in the delicate features of her face. He had little time left with her like this, as his daughter, yet unmarried, and he had already taken so much time for granted. Soon, she would belong to another man, to be his no longer.
"Oh, my Lizzie, how alike we are. You have become a woman, strong and intelligent in your own right, with your mother's charm and natural beauty," he could feel happy tears twinkling in his eyes as he broke his gaze from her.
"Oh, Papa," she smiled, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
Peter brushed a single tear from his cheek. "I do hope the young Mr. Stanton realizes your worth and will cherish you above all things, save God."