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After that climax, and that’s how it felt because we’d finally arrived at the how and why, we sat in silence sipping tea, like a bunch of awkward people with nothing in common.
I gritted my teeth. Simmering anger now included a conflict of pity and sadness for Bethany. Finding good in her would be like rummaging through a dumpster for something of value.
“So now you’re both to marry and file for a cut of the family fortune?” Declan stared down at his Rolex.
Will stirred in his seat. “It’s not that black-and-white. I loved your mother, but she’s too attached to Crisp.”
“What do you mean by that?” Declan asked.
He shrugged. “That’s something you need to ask her. Crisp has a hold on her. All of her.”
Steering the conversation away from that loaded claim, despite curiosity bubbling over, I turned to Bethany. “What about Manon?”
I knew that my mother had refused to lay charges and even requested that the girl come to Merivale for a talk.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Her grandmother seems to have taken an interest. I can’t control the little bitch.” A wicked smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “From what I hear, Reynard Crisp’s circling. She could do worse.”
I felt so sick in the stomach that it came as a relief when Declan stood up and beckoned for us to leave.
We left that tearoom frozen, as though we’d visited the devil and his consort.
“Hell, she’s fucking sick.”
Declan nodded. “She’s seriously damaged. Just like our mother. Only our mother married our father and has had a better life because of it.”
I stopped walking. “Are you telling me you feel sorry for Bethany?”
His decisive shake of head released the sucked-back breath in my lungs. “No. But evil is not always born. A lack of love and abuse can turn a person into a monster.”
“But wasn’t being given life enough? Our mother could have terminated that pregnancy, considering the brutal way she’d conceived Bethany.”
He released a jagged breath. I could see he’d been just as affected by this session as me. “It’s not just nurture. There’s always nature.”
I frowned. “You mean that she’s got some of her father in her?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Bethany seems to show very little interest in Manon,” I said.
“Our niece strikes me just as damaged.”
“But she’s young. Maybe with the right influences, she might change.”
Declan nodded wistfully. “Let’s see. We can only try to help.”
The ride up to the boardroom had done little to get blood flowing. With rigid steps, I made my way into the large room with its view of sky-piercing spires and sun-refracting glass buildings, shining like cheap costume jewellery.
My mother sat next to the family solicitor at the large oval table, where, during happier times, we’d meet to discuss the hotel, money markets, and cryptic hedge fund investments.
A few moments after we’d settled into our seats, Will and Bethany arrived, arm in arm, and my mother averted her gaze to the floor as if she’d seen something offensive.
Savanah, who’d been staring down at her phone, looked up, and her face turned dark. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
“And hello to you, too, sis.” Bethany faked a smile.
“I’m not your fucking sister.”
“Language,” my mother returned with a bite. “Let’s just get on with it. Shall we?”
