Page 39 of To Know Miss May

She held her breath, awaiting his response.

Father kept his eyes trained on the flames in the small hearth. “Ye won’t get any better if ye don’t ’ave practice not bein’ like the others,” he finally returned.

Livvy’s breath seeped from her lips, shriveling her heart in the process. Each time she mentioned to Father how she embarrassed him, she hoped he would contradict her words—“Ye don’t embarrass me, daugh’er.”

Yet each time, she was disappointed again and again.

What was wrong with her? Why could she just not push past her pride, fears, habits—whatever they were—and simply behave in a way that would not continue to ruin Father’s life, as she was clearly doing now?

“I just can’t understand it,” Father continued. “Why did ye agree to go to the dinner party at the Moons and not to Marazion with the same girls?”

Livvy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t like conversations like this. Conversations that made her think on her actions. Made her question her actions. “I…I ’ad more time to prepare for the dinner party, rather than just the sudden invitation to go to Marazion.”

Not to mention the fact that August had invited her to come to his house. But she would never mention that to Father. He would be horrified to learn of her secret love for August, no doubt scold her for falling for an unavailable man. Then there was the very real fact that Father wanted her off the Mount. How could she if she fell for a resident of the Mount?

“At any rate, ye wanted me to go to the party with ye,” she continued. “Those women didn’t want me to come with ’em. Not really.”

“They seemed genuine enough to me.”

But she shook her head. “No. I be certain August Moon told ’em to ask me.”

Father’s eyes hardened, his skin ashen. “What?” he asked sharply.

Livvy pulled back. Had she said something wrong? Was he upset that August had helped her? She frowned in confusion. “I only said that I believe Mr. August Moon asked ’em to befriend me.”

Father’s lips thinned even further. “Why would ’e do such a thing?”

Livvy hesitated, though she knew speaking the truth at this point was unavoidable. She sighed. “I may have let it be known at the dinner party that I don’t ’ave as many friends as per’aps the average person does.” Understatement of the year. “I just assumed ’e felt sorry for me and asked ’is sisters and Miss Pengelly to include me in their lives.”

Now that she thought of it, perhaps that was why August was being kind to her in the first place—simply because he felt badly for her.

The thought, though she prayed it was not true, sapped away the last of her energy. Her limbs pulled down to the earth, and her spirits sunk even further.

Father, however, visibly relaxed at her words, whatever she said obviously helping him. “’Tain’t a bad thing for ‘em to wish to ’elp ye, ye know,” he said, his eyes softening.

“I know.” Her shoulders slumped forward, and her mind waivered from the pride she felt before. “I just…Be it so ludicrous to wish for people to be me friends simply because they wish to be, rather than being forced to be?”

Father looked at her with an odd look of discomfort. “No, Livvy. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He looked away, staring down at his pipe. “Ye be a fine woman with a passion for life, and that be a wonderful thing to ’ave. And I do believe everyone wants to be loved for who they be.” He looked back up at her. “But all o’ we need to make changes within ourselves to better fit in with the society we be born into.”

The hollowness in Livvy’s chest increased. Her father’s words weren’t exactly the inspiring pieces of advice for which she was hoping. Still, he gave her credit for having a passion for life, and that was…something. “So I must change who I am in order for people to accept me?” she asked.

“Changin’ yourself ain’t exactly a bad thing,” he said softly. “Everyone needs to change to be better.”

Very well, she could give him that. But to change all the things about herself that weren’t necessarily bad—her preference of rain over sun. Her desire to read more than socialize. Befriending cow-keepers. Laughing at her own jokes. Not wanting to speak her secrets to perfect strangers. Why did she have to stop being herself simply so people would accept her? Why couldn’t she be just a little bit different, a little bit…odd?

“Trust me, Liv,” Father continued in a soft voice, “the faster ye conform to Society’s standards, the happier ye’ll be.”

Livvy stared at her father, struggling to keep her lips sealed. How could she trust the man when he, himself, was not happy? He, who conformed to everything? He stayed in his station, never rose above. He spoke when he was told to do so. Didn’t read when he wasn’t expected to. Never took a step out of place. And what had that gotten him? A wife who hadn’t loved him and a daughter who embarrassed him.

How was that inspiring to Livvy in anyway?

“I think I be goin’ to rest for a bit,” she said, eying her book on the table. Rest or read, the two were synonymous for her.

But Father raised a hand to stop her. “Just a moment. I know I’ve mentioned to ye ’fore ’bout me cousins who live off the Mount.”

She eyed him warily. Countless times he’d mentioned his distant relations who lived in landlocked Nanstallon, and countless times, she’d denied the suggestion. Now was not the time to discuss such things again. Surely he could see that. “Father…”

“’Ear me out,” he said. “If ye promise to accept whate’er invitation comes to ye next, shoppin’, attendin’ a ball, whate’er it may be—if ye agree to go, I’ll drop ye leavin’ the Mount. At least for a time.”