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.
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.