Samson’s ears flew back and his tongue flashed between his teeth.
“You’ve definitely made an enemy now,” Leslie said. “Our kids are like elephants. They never forget.”
“Listen,” Robert began, “I’ve just returned from St. Timothy’s. Father Anselm died last night.” He looked over at Leslie. “I know he wasn’t your favorite person, but—”
“How are you? I know you had a great respect for him. I appreciate what he did for you,” Leslie said, “and I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Thank you, Les.” He let out a sigh. “Well, that’s done. Now, what did you turn up in York?”
Leslie spoke first, mainly his impressions of Bertie’s aunt, and went on to describe the coldness of her personality and her unfriendly nature. “That woman is practically Dickensian.”
“Think Miss Havasham without the charm,” Edward added. “You won’t be far off the mark. The damned woman was only concerned about her social status. Taking in a relative who was so obviously beneath her position rankled her to no end, and—”