“Pardon?” she asked, confused by his words.
“I am merely saying that you do not have the same lofty aspirations as Emma does and you would be satisfied with a simpler life," her father explained.
Mattie rose from her seat, feeling insulted. “What do you mean, Father?”
Her father leaned forward in his seat, trying to reassure her. “We have discussed this before,” he said. “You have a sensible head on your shoulders and any gentleman would be lucky to have you as his wife.”
“Assuming he is looking for a more mature wife,” Mattie said, repeating her father’s words from a previous conversation.
“That is not a bad thing,” her father insisted, clearly taken aback by her response. “I meant it as a compliment.”
Mattie’s mouth dropped. “How is that a compliment, Father?”
Her father shook his head, his expression somber. “Emma is much more?—”
“Selfish. Inconsiderate,” Mattie said, interrupting him with a tone of defiance.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he gave her a chiding look. “I was going to say determined,” her father replied. “She doesn’t want to wait until she is eight and ten years to debut.”
Mattie walked over to the window as the weight of her father’s words sank in. “You don’t think I will make as good of a match as Emma, do you?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with disappointment and hurt.
Her father let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple wearily. “Emma has her cap set on marrying a lord, and now that I am a viscount, it is in the realm of possibilities for her.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly at the confirmation of her fears. “But not for me?” she said, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes.
“Mattie…”
She cut him off. “You can stop, Father,” she stated. “This could be solved if you would allow Lady Dallington to host me for this upcoming Season. Then Emma can debut next Season without me.”
Her father frowned. “I need you at home to tend to Emma and Franny.”
“Why?”
“I have explained my reasonings,” her father said, his tone growing curt.
Mattie let out a frustrated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “So you bow to Emma’s incessant complaining, but you won’t yield on what I want? Why is that?”
Her father rose, his voice becoming more forceful. “This conversation is over,” he declared, clearly notwanting to continue the argument. But she was not willing to let it go so easily.
Taking a step towards the desk, Mattie demanded, “I deserve to know why, Father. You owe me that much.”
“Fine,” her father said, tossing up his arms. “I need you! You have been a constant support to me since your mother died and I don’t want you to go away.” He paused, his expression softening. “I don’t know how to handle Emma and her incessant complaining. Or even Franny. What do I know about having a ward?”
Mattie felt some of her anger dissipate at the vulnerable admission from her father. “You want me to put my life on hold to help you?”
“I don’t know what I want,” her father admitted, sinking into his chair. “Now that I have said it out loud it seems very selfish of me.”
She couldn’t help but agree with him as she returned to the seat across from him. “Because it is,” she said. “You need to let me lead my own life. Maybe I wish to marry a lord.”
Her father gave her a knowing look. “Do you?”
Mattie shrugged as an image of Winston came to her mind. But she dismissed it as quickly as it came. “No, I do not care much about being titled.”
“You don’t, but Emma does,” her father said, a hint of resignation in his voice. “She always has.”
In a soft voice, Mattie responded, “All I want is a love match. I want what you and Mother had.”
Her father went quiet at the mention of his late wife. “I miss her every single day,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You look so much like she did at this age; it is almost uncanny.”
