Defying Destiny (47 page)

weren’t strong enough to stand by him.”

Maralee nodded tersely. “Tell him

good-bye for me,” she said. “Tell him…

tell him that he was right not to believe.”

“What?” Stacia questioned, confused.

“Just tell him. He’ll understand.”

Maralee reached into her pocket and

located her money pouch. She dug around

inside it until she found the barrettes she’d

been carrying around for ages. “Give

these to Carsha when she gets home,”

Maralee said, handing dragonfly barrettes

to Stacia. “Tell her that she’s lucky to

have someone like Nash as her new

daddy.”

Stacia took the barrettes and looked

down at them questioningly. She released

Maralee’s arm and watched her step off

the porch. Maralee half expected the

embittered woman to say something to her

as she walked away, but Stacia watched

her leave without a word, undoubtedly

glad to see the Huntress out of her son’s

life forever.

Maralee felt numb as she left the

village of the Wolves behind for the last

time, but she felt in her heart that she had

done the right thing. When she passed the

oak tree that marked Cort’s grave, sunlight

warmed her face. She knew that he was

smiling down on her, glad she had made

good on her promise to him. Her leaving

would hurt Nash, but he would realize

with time he belonged with Rella and the

three children he adored so much. He

would find happiness. She had to believe

that. It was the sincerest wish of her heart.

The weeklong carriage ride to Dubwar

had been uneventful and bleak. Maralee

refused dwell on her past. Now she was

only looking forward to her uncertain

future. A future without Nash. Things had

happened so quickly; the reality of her

decision to never see him again had not

truly sunk in. Just moments before, the

carriage had let her off at Dubwar station.

The town had existed before the Decaturs

had made their home here, but it had

profited greatly from the Wolf Hunters’

wealth and prosperity. The familiar sights

of the town were nostalgic as Maralee

made her way to the livery to rent a horse.

Home after a six-year absence. It was

surreal.

The man who ran the livery seemed

surprised to see her. Though she had

matured in her absence, her raven hair and

silver eyes made her easily recognizable

as a Decatur.

“It’s been a while, ‘adn’t it, Miss

Decatur?” the balding man said in a burr

even more pronounced than Maralee’s

own accent. “What brings ye back home

after all dis time?”

“It’s time I took charge of the Decatur

Estates. My aunt has carried my burden

for so many years. I’m sure she’ll be glad

to get back to her own life.”

The friendly owner of the livery

looked uncharacteristically concerned. “Is

yer aunt ‘spectin’ ye den?”

Maralee couldn’t help but flush. “No,

actually my return will probably be quite

a surprise.”

The man looked even grimmer at this

news. “I’m not sure she’ll be happy tuh

see ye.”

Maralee laughed. “No, I don’t suppose

that she will be,” Maralee agreed. “I’ll

have someone from the estate return this

horse by tomorrow.”

The man held the horse still while she

mounted and then handed her knapsack to

her. “Be careful, little miss.”

A spear of pain stabbed her heart.

Nash had called her that on their first

meeting. She pushed thoughts of him aside.

She knew how quickly she would fall into

despair if she allowed herself to think of

him for even a brief moment. She hoped

Rella and the children appreciated Nash’s

love as much as she had. “I will, sir. I

thank you for your concern. Good day.”

The man released the horse’s bridle

and Maralee urged the gelding forward at

a sedate pace. As she rode slowly through

the streets of Dubwar, passersby watched

her curiously. There seemed to be an

excessive number of destitute townsfolk

with worn coats and gaunt, uninspired

faces. Maralee didn’t remember there

being a large underclass in Dubwar, but

perhaps she was merely more sensitive to

such things now that she was older.

A boy dashed into the street in front of

her. Her horse balked in protest, emitting

a loud whinny. The animal fidgeted for a

moment and then settled down with a

disgruntled neigh. The boy, in his early

teens, grabbed her ankle and looked up at

her.

“Do ye have any food to spare, mum?”

he asked her, glancing over his shoulder to

a younger boy who was lurking behind a

post.

“Oh,” Maralee gasped, surprised. She

knew there had never been children

reduced to beggars in Dubwar before. The

small city must have fallen upon hard

times in her absence. Perhaps this was

why her aunt had been concerned about

her spending her money without regard.

Maralee reached for her pack and

rummaged inside. She had purchased

some food to consume on her long

carriage ride and believed there were still

a few apples in her knapsack. She found

what she was looking for near the bottom

and fished out three slightly bruised fruits.

Even though the boy stood several feet

below her, she heard his stomach rumble.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have more than

this,” she said, handing him the fruit. She

felt like a glutton, having already

consumed every other scrap of food she’d

purchased.

“ T ha nk ye, mum,” the boy said,

bowing his head before turning on his heel

and sprinting to the smaller boy, who was

already holding his hands out to accept an

apple.

Maralee reached into her cloak pocket

for her money pouch. She knew giving the

boys the few coins remaining in her purse

wouldn’t get them far, but she couldn’t

leave them with only a trio of apples.

“Wait,” Maralee called to the older

lad. She directed her horse towards the

boardwalk.

The older boy glanced over his

shoulder at Maralee and then pressed all

three apples into the smaller boy’s hands.

He pushed the boy forward and said

anxiously, “Run and hide, Henry. Hurry.”

Confused,

Maralee

watched

the

younger boy race off. “I wasn’t going to

ask for my apples back,” Maralee told the

remaining boy. “I just wanted to give you

something.”

The boy looked up at her in disbelief.

She dismounted her horse and took a step

closer to him. She held out her hand to

offer him a collection of half a dozen

coins. He reached for them timidly before

withdrawing his empty hand again.

Maralee tried to sooth him with a

gentle smile. “It’s all right. I want you to

have this money to buy some more food.

Was that younger boy your brother?”

The boy nodded, gazing at the offered

coins but still not taking them.

“Where are your parents?” Maralee

asked him, taking another step in his

direction.

“Dead,” he murmured. “Killed by

Wolves.”

Maralee lowered her eyes. She just

couldn’t win, and it seemed she would

never escape her preordained destiny.

“What’s your name?”

“Timothy Evans.”

The last name was not familiar to

Maralee, but just because she hadn’t

known this boy’s parents didn’t mean their

well-being was not her responsibility. She

should have been here to protect them.

“So you two live on the streets

alone?” Maralee asked.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes.

“Well, take these coins for now and

then come to Decatur manor in the

morning. I’ll try to find you a job in the

stables or something.”

The boy looked up at her, eyes wide

with anxiety. “No, thank you,” he said,

nervously. “Thank you for the apples.” He

turned on his heel and sped off in the

direction his brother had vanished. The

coins remained untouched in Maralee’s

hand.

Maralee

stared

after

the

boy,

perplexed by his reaction.

“Is that you, Ms. Decatur?” a voice

called from several yards away.

Maralee turned and recognized the

banker, Reginald Oxford. She smiled and

waved at him. She had planned to visit his

office after she had settled into the manor,

but decided now was as good a time as

any.

“Mr. Oxford,” she greeted, walking

towards the man with her rented horse in

tow.

“My, I almost didn’t recognize you,”

Mr. Oxford said, hobbling over to her

with the support of his intricately carved,

wooden

cane.

“You’ve

become

a

woman.”

“It’s good to see you again. Would you

happen to have a few moments to go over

my accounts?”

“Your accounts?” he echoed, flushing

to the roots of his stark white hair. “Well,

okay. I guess you have a right to see

them.”

Maralee tied the horse to the railing in

front of the bank and followed Mr. Oxford

into the double doors of the establishment.

They walked through an opulent lobby and

into his office.

“Have a seat,” he offered, nodding

towards one of the chairs. “I just need to

go retrieve your account ledger.” He left

the room, a grim expression on his face.

Maralee took a seat in a plush chair to

wait. She wondered what had happened to

this town in her absence. Were times

really that tough? Had the Wolves driven

the entire populace into despair? Perhaps

she should have stayed in Dubwar all

along. It seemed she had made a grievous

error in leaving and remaining absent for

so long. In any case, with almost a million

in gold in her accounts, she should be able

to help the town get back on its feet. She

could provide housing and decent food for

children like Timothy and Henry Evans at

the very least. She was certain that she

could make a difference.

Mr. Oxford returned a few moments

later, carrying a large, leather bound

volume. The name Decatur was engraved

in gold on the spine. He closed the door

quietly and hobbled across the room to sit

behind his desk. He avoided Maralee’s

gaze.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Oxford?”

He glanced up at her. “I will warn you

that the current state of your accounts will

likely come as surprise to you.”

Maralee scowled. “A good surprise or

a bad surprise?”

He cleared his throat. “Your expenses

have greatly exceeded your revenues for

the past decade or so, and well, I guess

it’s best to just tell you outright—your

account is in the red.”

“In the red?” There must be some

mistake!

“Your family has banked with us for

many decades and so we extended several

sizable loans to keep your estates afloat

over the past five years, but none of the

debts have been repaid.”

“I haven’t taken out any loans.”

Mr. Oxford nodded. “I realize you did

not authorize the loans, but your aunt was

solely in charge of your accounts and

so…”

“My aunt?”

“We were not allowed by law to

prevent her from accessing your funds

until four months ago. She had already

cleared out the accounts by that time and

has amassed a debt of over five hundred

thousand gold in your name.”

Maralee shook her head in disbelief.

She would never be able to dig herself out

of such a deep hole, and here she was

thinking of how she could use her wealth

to help the town recover from its strange

recession.

“Why didn’t someone inform me of

this before it got so out of hand?” Maralee

asked.

“It wasn’t as if we didn’t try,” Mr.

Oxford said. “We could never locate you.

Legally, we were in no position to refuse

your aunt’s access to your funds until you