“That’s enough.” Her mother moved forward, hands raised as if to physically silence her. “You will not speak to your father this way. You will apologize immediately and remember your place in this family.”
“My place?” Cressida’s vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. “What place is that, Mama? The daughter you send away when inconvenient? The one you parade at social events when my marriage serves your purposes? The one you criticize and control but never actually see?”
“We’re done with this conversation.” Lord Bardwell’s voice turned cold. “You’ll return to your husband, repair whateverdamage you’ve caused with your complaints, and remember that your duty to this family supersedes your personal feelings.”
“My duty to this family,” Cressida repeated the words slowly. “What about your duty to me? As parents? As the people who were supposed to love me and protect me and care about my happiness?”
“Don’t be naive.” Her father waved a hand dismissively. “Love is a luxury afforded to people without responsibilities. You have a duty to your position now, to your husband and his standing. That’s all that matters.”
“No.” The word emerged quietly but with absolute conviction. “That’s not all that matters.”
“Cressida—”
“Mary, Peter.” Cressida turned to her siblings. “Would you excuse us, please? I need to speak with Mama and Papa alone.”
Peter’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Please.” Her voice carried a note of steel that surprised even herself. “I’ll be fine.”
Mary looked between her and their parents, indecision plain on her young face. “Are you certain?”
“I am.”
They left reluctantly, Peter pausing at the door to throw one last warning look at their parents before disappearing into the corridor.
Cressida waited until their footsteps faded before turning back to face Lord and Lady Bardwell. They stood together near the mantelpiece, her father’s hand on her mother’s shoulder in a gesture of united parental authority. The same way they’d stood when they’d sent her to Aunt Agatha.
“I loved you.” The words came out softer than she had intended. “I believed that if I was good enough, smart enough, obedient enough, you’d finally see me the way I needed to be seen.”
“Wedolove you.” Lady Bardwell was adamant, but Cressida knew better. Maybe they did, but they definitely did not know how to show that love. “Everything we’ve done has been for your benefit.”
“No, Mama. Everything you’ve done has been foryour ownbenefit.” Cressida drew a breath, steadying herself. “And I’ve let you. I’ve accepted your criticism, taken in your disappointment, blamed myself for not being the daughter you wanted. But I’m done with that now.”
“Done?” Her father’s eyebrows rose. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I won’t be your convenient solution anymore. I won’t pretend your neglect was guidance or your manipulation was love. I won’t accept being treated like a problem to be managed instead of a person to be cherished.”
“How dare you speak to us this way!” Lord Bardwell’s face flushed darker. “After everything we’ve provided for you?—”
“You’ve provided nothing except proof that your children are assets, not family.” The tears finally came, hot against her cheeks. “You were supposed to protect me. To support me. To care about my well-being instead of your social standing. And when I came home needing comfort after the worst experience of my life, you heard only how it affected you.”
“You’re being hysterical.” Her mother moved toward her, hands outstretched in placation. “Cressida, darling, you’re not thinking clearly?—”
“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years.” Cressida stepped back, refusing to be touched or comforted by people who’d never truly offered either. “And I’m tired, Mama. Tired of hoping you’ll change. Tired of waiting for you to see me. Tired of pretending your cold indifference doesn’t hurt.”
“Now listen here, young lady—” Her father’s voice rose with anger.
“No.” The word emerged with surprising calm. “I’m done listening. I’ve listened to you my entire life, followed your dictates, accepted your judgments. And where has it gotten me?Married to a man who can’t trust me because I’ve never learned to trust myself. Isolated from the only people who’ve ever truly cared about me. Constantly questioning my worth because you’ve spent twenty-four years making it clear that I have none.”
“That’s not fair.” Lady Bardwell’s voice trembled. “We’ve done our best?—”
“Your best was not good enough.”
The pronouncement fell into weighted quiet.
Her mother’s face went white. Her father’s hands clenched at his sides, fury and something that might have been shame warring in his expression.
“How dare you!” Lord Bardwell’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “After everything this family has done for you?—”
