An Inconvenient Truth

Elizabeth sat gawping speechlessly at her brother. He wore a proud, yet embarrassed, grin on his face. He shrugged sheepishly.

"Emmet, how could you?" she could barely blurt out, "She's a married woman!"

"Liz, I swear to you, I never intended for it to happen." He plonked down in the chair across from her and reached for the decanter of brandy. He poured himself a large tumbler of liquor and gulped it down quickly. He exhaled loudly.

"Then how did it?" she scrutinized him up and down, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He tipped the bottle and sloshed more of the brown liquid into his glass. He took a big mouthful and swallowed hard.

"I don't know exactly," he tried to explain, "She invited you and me for coffee and I tried to explain that you weren't home. But you know Hyacinth, she never listens." His voice was strained.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, her eyebrows raised, nervously smiling.

"Well, anyway, Liz, I was trapped into going for coffee. I just knew she'd sing at me and ask to be in the upcoming performance of 'Me and My Girl'. But she didn't do either one."

"No?" Elizabeth tilted her head, "That's unlike Hyacinth."

"I know," he said, "It was uncanny and caught me off-guard."

Emmet sat with his hands folded in his lap to keep them from trembling.

"We were just talking and then she told me that she has this unquenchable sexual appetite that Richard couldn't keep up with and that Richard knows about her affairs." The words came flooding out.

Elizabeth's face blanched and her mouth dropped open, "Oh, my!"

He took a deep breath, "Well, the next thing I knew, she was leading me upstairs to her bedroom."

"You could have left," Elizabeth stated firmly.

"The truth is, Liz, I didn't want to!" he admitted, a pained look on his face, "I wanted to be there with her. Call it morbid curiosity or desperation, but I wanted it. I could have left when she first proposed it and I did consider leaving, but it was like all of a sudden I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame."

"How many of those did you have over there?" she asked motioning to the drink in his hand.

He took a long draw, "Shockingly, Liz, I was stone-cold sober!"

Elizabeth didn't know what to say. He could tell what she was thinking. As siblings they had an almost psychic bond. He could see it in her face; she wanted to ask him but she dared not. She was afraid of the answer. Emmet sensed her discomfiture.

"Yes, Liz. I did enjoy it. It was incredible," he said softly and drained his glass, "I haven't been with a woman since Jeanne."

Elizabeth's face turned bright red and she looked away from him for a moment.

"You're ashamed of me!" he whinged, pouring himself another brandy.

"No. I know she can be very imposing and forceful. She's had her eye on you for quite some time. I see how she looks at you; she's smitten," Elizabeth smiled, understanding, commiserating. She set her needlework down on the side table.

"I can just do with of those myself, baby brother!" she said indicating the half-full crystal bottle.

Emmet took a glass from the cart and shakily poured Elizabeth a drink. He held the glass to his sister, his hand quivering. She took the drink from him, and compassionately brushed his hand with hers.

"What's really wrong, Emmet? Remorse?" she said and sipped the liquor.

"No. I feel really bad for poor old Richard. He's at work and he thinks she's at home cleaning and polishing or out doing charity work…" he trailed off.

Elizabeth stood and walked over to her brother. She tousled his hair playfully and leaned over to give him a reassuring hug, "Don't worry about 'poor old Richard'. He's crazy like a fox! He knows exactly what she's about," Elizabeth said, indicating she knew more than she was letting on.

The mantle clock ticked on and on as the sun beams got longer in Elizabeth's cozy front lounge. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her brother conspiratorially. His expression went suddenly serious.

"Liz, you know something, don't you?" he queried, eyeing her suspiciously, "Tell!" His eyes were dark and intense and he pressed his lips together.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," she said teasingly.

"Blood is thicker than water!" he reminded her, "We've known each other since birth!"

"OK. Promise you will never tell a living soul?" she took a sip of her drink and set it down next to her project.

"You want me to spit-shake and pinky-swear?" he chortled.

"No, Emmet, I mean it!" Elizabeth warned.

He held up his right hand, "Scout's honor."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and took a deep breath, "OK. Sheridan is not Richard's son."

"That's it? That's the big secret?" Emmet looked disappointed, "I swore on that? Does Richard know?"

"Of course he knows," she said as if stating the obvious.

"Does Sheridan know?" Emmet asked, confused as to why this was such a secret.

"Yes, he knows as well. Why do you think he never comes round? And when he calls he will only speak to Hyacinth on the phone?" she took a small sip of her drink.

"So why the secrecy if everyone knows?" His brow furrowed.

"It's the conditions which led to his conception and their marriage," Elizabeth revealed, "I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"Well, you opened the can of worms, so fish or cut bait, Sis! Finish the story," he urged, swirling the brown liquid in his glass.

She ran her fingers through her hair, "Where to begin?"

"At the beginning is usually a good place to start…" he smiled.

"Well, Hyacinth's father had served in the war. He had come home and got married to Hyacinth's mum. They started having children right about at the end of the war. Hyacinth's father was never what you might call, skilled or motivated. Her mother was the one who went out to work doing odd jobs- cleaning, mending, that sort of thing."

"MMm-hmm," Emmet nodded, "And? Go on."

"Well, her mother died unexpectedly around 1950-something. The girls all had to go to work to support themselves and their lay-about father," she explained.

"Violet married Bruce in 1962 or somewhere about that time. Daisy got involved with Onslow and they had to get married."

"I could see that," Emmet pursed his lips and nodded knowingly.

"Well, you know Rose. Two or three failed marriages and she wound up with Daisy and Onslow with their father tagging along." Emmet smiled wryly as he thought about Rose.

"Which brings us to Hyacinth," he said, expectantly.

Elizabeth faltered, unsure if she should divulge this information.

"Come on, Liz. You can't stop now!" he said impatiently, "I'm on the edge of my seat!" he said playfully.

"You behave or I'll not tell you!" she scolded.

"I'll be good," he promised and held his three-finger Scout-swear hand up again.

"Hyacinth was about nineteen when she became involved with a wealthy local government official and saw him as her ticket out of a boring life of drudgery and menial work. She had designs of trapping him and elevating her social and economic status by becoming pregnant," Elizabeth said plainly.

"Sheridan?" Emmet's mouth gaped.

"Yes. The only trouble was that this wealthy local government official was already married," she sighed.

"Oops!" he made a face.

"Yes. He left out that little detail when he was wining and dining her. Imagine the scandal and embarrassment, not to mention the risk to his career. He wanted to make it all go away nice and conveniently," she arched her eyebrows and nodded for emphasis.

"What did he do?" Emmet leaned in so as not to miss one juicy detail.

"There was a young, up and coming clerk in the mail room of the firm. The executive made him a very generous offer if he would help with his little problem," Elizabeth made quote marks in the air as she said it.

"Richard! What was the offer?" Emmet pressed.

"He was offered a higher-ranking position in the firm if he married her. He was promised job security and a handsome salary if he kept his mouth shut and if he swore never to tell anyone of his child's parentage and to make sure the affair was never mentioned."

"Wow. Poor Richard." Emmet shook his head slowly.

"So he has been carrying the burden of the truth since 1967 or so. To the outside world, they look like any other mismatched couple. She's carried on as if she'd married the wealthy man."

"That doesn't explain her insatiable urges, though," he mused.

"No, that is a surprise. She always seems so uptight and staunch. I rarely see her show Richard any affection," Elizabeth lamented.

"Poor man should be sainted! So, when did they tell Sheridan?" Emmet asked.

"Well," Elizabeth began, "They didn't actually tell him. You know how her father is barmy? He blurted it out one day when he had not taken his medication and had gotten out and Hyacinth was over at Daisy's reprimanding them for being careless."

"Oh, shit! Her daddy just threw that out there?" Emmet poured himself another brandy and took a sip.

"Yes, he just threw it out there! Hyacinth, Richard and Sheridan- oh, he couldn't have been more than twelve or fourteen at the time- they were in Daisy's front lounge and her father yelled 'Careless? Irresponsible? You're the last one to be talking about careless! Whose son is he? 'Cuz he sure as hell isn't Richard's, I can tell you that!' Oh, it was terrible. Afterward, Sheridan went to live with Violet and Bruce for a long time. Two, maybe three years, I think."

"That explains a lot," Emmet said thoughtfully.

"Well, he became accustomed to a Mercedes, sauna, and room for a pony. Not to mention vacations at their villa in Ibiza. Hyacinth overindulges him, but Violet and Bruce spoiled him rotten!"

Elizabeth's face fell. Her heart still ached for her friend and the severed relationship her son and husband had. Richard tried his best to be a good father to Sheridan, but Hyacinth always overindulged him. She inadvertently shut Richard out of their relationship from early on. Maybe it was her way of compensating for the abandonment she felt by the father of her child. Maybe she felt Sheridan was from upper-crust society and should be kept in a manner commensurate with what she believed to be his station in life; Hyacinth sure knew how to spend Richard's her reasoning for splurging on Sheridan, Hyacinth did so whenever the mood took her, and her marriage- and Richard- suffered.

Emmet sighed heavily and pursed his lips, deep in thought. His eyes betrayed him.

"What're you thinking?" Elizabeth asked, sensing her brother's melancholy.

"Oh, Liz. What have I done?" his voice heavy with drink, "I don't want to add to her troubles."

"What have you done, brother dear? You had a dirty afternoon next door fulfilling a woman's deepest fantasy," she soothed, "And you will go over whenever she calls on you; she's besotted with you. Your secret's safe with me."

She smiled, consoling him, "You'll do well to keep this to yourself, Emmet."

"You can count on it," he said with an air of finality, "Thanks, Liz."