With a deep breath, Abigail twisted the doorknob to her father's study. Upon entering she was met immediately with the overwhelming scent of alcohol and tobacco.
"Oh good Lord." She muttered as she navigated her way through the piles of newspaper and debris.
"Hm? Who's there?" Said the lump in the armchair.
"Your daughter?" She responded sarcastically.
She didn't like who she became around him. Resentful, sarcastic, and most of all, guarded. It wasn't an immediate instinct. She had to learn how to handle conversing with him after her mother died.
He wasn't the same either, to be fair. Gone was the man who danced her around the parlor or brought candy floss home to her. Her father wasn't there anymore. Now, all that sat before her was a broken shell of a man she had once known.
"No, my daughter isn't home right now." He shook his head and slumped further into his chair.
"I can assure you she is. Since she is me." She replied, moving some stacks of newspapers.
"I like that riddle." He laughed and brought his glass to his lips, to which Abby rolled her eyes.
"Father, as hard as it is, I need you to pay attention right now." She attempted to speak but he just acted as if no one was there.
She sighed and knew there was likely only one thing that was going to get him to acknowledge her.
"I'm getting married." She announced.
He froze. His lazy and relaxed demeanor was gone, and replaced with one of a deer on the wrong end of a rifle.
"What?" He grunted.
"Anthony Bridgerton has asked for my hand and I have accepted."
"No." He began to get up, though very sloppily. "No. Your suitors are supposed to come talk to me. I- I make this decision."
"You lost every right you had to make that decision when you left me alone in this situation. When you left me to parent the boys." She responded with the speed of light.
"I didn't leave. I'm right here, Abby." He tried to appeal.
She took a deep breath so as to keep her emotions in check.
"At some point after mother died, you made the decision to drown your sorrows in bourbon rather than be a father."
"That is not true!" He became angry and defensive. "Losing your mother was the hardest thing that has ever happened to me! You don't understand—"
"Oh I don't? It was hard for all of us! I lost my mother the very moment I needed her most! But you know what I did? I got over it, because I had a job to do and because the boys needed me!" She lost it-- all control over her emotions.
The anger, the grief, the tears, it all came tumbling out. It was almost as if she had held it in for so long that she couldn't contain it anymore.
"You wasted away all the time you had to step up! So I did what I had to, I took control." She took a slow and controlled breath. "I am marrying Anthony Bridgerton and I am going to be very happy, very far from you. I think it'd be best if you retired to the country house, that way I can say that you're ill and have gone away at the wedding."
"You cannot just—"
"I can just. While I wish that some part of you would put down the bottle and pick up the last shred of self respect you have left, I know you won't. So, I need you gone so that I can keep this house and the Bentley name in order for Ben and Cal when they grow up." She said far too calmly. "I will arrange your travel plans with Mrs. Whiler, she will give you all the information you need."
She then turned and moved to exit the study.
"Abigail." She heard him say quietly.
She paused with her hand near the doorknob and twisted her head to look behind her.
"Yes?" She kept her tone formal.
"I wish things could have been different." He said after a few moments.
The last nail in the coffin. Things could never change, he would never let them.
"Me too. You have no idea how much."
With those final words, she twisted the doorknob and left the study.
(Ok I'm sorry it's taken me forever but it was AP testing week and I'm also struggling with a wee bit of writer's block)