December 25th, 1894 — Dempsey Estate, Galway

Eamon Dempsey left the sitting room half an hour after the rest of his family left. The drama of today's morn had been quite spectacular, and Eamon made it a habit not to let himself be rushed by the chaotic inclinations of his dear children. So, after Don Juan fled from the breakfast table and everyone else went to their respective spaces and rooms, Eamon sat at the table and finished eating his scones at a leisurely pace. All the while, he was thinking. His forehead was set into a light frown.

Finally, he got up, exchanged a few words with the servants, and wandered upstairs towards the master bedroom. He needed to talk some sense into his son, but there was someone else who required his attention first.

"Darling, are you alright? Where are you?"

Eamon looked around for his wife. She had been upset. She might still be upset.

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Lowri Dempsey

  

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This had not been the Christmas that Lowri Dempsey had in mind. A bastard child. A grandchild revealed to them in the most untoward fashion! And Don Juan hadn’t wanted to recognize the child at all; of course, he hadn’t thought that Lowri would welcome the child into the family with open arms. Since when did she care about proper parentage? Obviously the family was quite unorthodox, so was it such a stretch of imagination that they wouldn’t bat an eye that the girl’s mother and DJ weren’t married? Honestly, she was impressed more children hadn’t popped up out of the ether. She was pacing back and forth in their adjoining sitting room when her husband found her.

“I’m here, my love,” She breathed out, exasperated as she paced. She resisted the urge to snap Do I look like I’m alright? at her husband, because he didn’t deserve her ire (this time at least).

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Eamon followed her voice into the sitting room and watched her pace its length two times before he went up to her and stopped her to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "And if you run the length of this parlor another ten times, you won't catch up to our dear son and preempt his attacks on our peace," he said and led her by the arm to the chairs by the fireplace. Eamon sat down next to her.

He smiled, but not too brightly. He did not want Lowri to get the idea that he was not taking this seriously; at times she could be cross with him for being difficult to perturb. His wife was easy to distress, but her sensitivity to the fate of the unexpected girl endeared her to Eamon, who was inclined to view such matters pragmatically.
"This boy of ours never runs out of surprises, does he? Fool that he is."
He took her hand. "The matter of the child is something we ought to talk about before making any hasty decision."

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