Storm at Marshbay (3 page)

I stood up so quickly I felt light-headed for a second, but a few deep breaths helped me regain my composure.

“I cannot agree to this arrangement,” I said. “And I never will. Call your attorneys, Mr. Fitzgerald. I’m sure they can extract you from this unpleasant situation you find yourself in.”

He came to attention and took one step toward me. Then he stopped, staring at me with a disbelieving stare. But he made no move to stop me.
I ran out the door, down the stairs and out into the night without anyone trying to stop me.  I asked for a carriage and one was immediately brought for me.

As we drove back through the marsh toward home, I felt angry and used. I felt ignorant. And sad. But there was nothing I could do to change the ugly thing my father had done. I wanted to believe he did it intending to secure my future, but I knew better. It was likely only more of his controlling behavior. It seemed even from the grave he sought to control my life.

The trip back home was completely different than I’d experienced coming to Marshbay. The excitement and anticipation were gone and I no longer noticed the beauty of my surroundings. How I dreaded telling Mother that I failed to keep my promise to her.

I realized, though, no explanation I gave, no ill treatment I felt I received could explain to her why I had just thrown away the chance to be the bride of a man like Ian Fitzgerald. A member of such a wealthy and prestigious family. I had no idea how I could ever make her understand.

Before I left home that night, Dr. Leavy arrived to see Mother. Now I noticed his carriage was still there.  My heart skipped a beat as I hurried into the house.

The doctor met me in the hallway leading to mother’s room.

“Dr. Leavy,” I said.  “Is anything wrong? I didn’t expect you would still be here.”

His expression was grave as he stepped forward and took my hand.

“I’m so sorry, Isabella,” he said, “but your mother passed away just moments ago.”

“What do you mean? How could that be— I only spoke to her an hour or so ago.  No,” I whispered.

Shocked as I was at his words, I knew why it happened so quickly. My promise to her had given her peace; she knew I’d be in good hands.

I went into her room, tears falling down my cheeks as I saw her lying on the bed so still and beautiful. Her face was peaceful.

“Thank you, Doctor, for all you’ve done,” I managed to say. 

“Of course,” he said, bowing slightly. “If you will be all right I will leave you now.”

“Yes,” I answered. “Mrs. Reed will be here with me.”

After he left, I wanted nothing more than to collapse and weep, but there were duties I must take care of. Much as I mourned her death, I was grateful she’d never know of my failure with the Fitzgeralds. I was glad she would not have to worry about how I would survive.

Truth be known, I had no idea myself.

Chapter Two

The funeral was held two days later at our little Episcopal church at the edge of the marsh. The small church was full for my mother’s service since she and Father were well known in our community. But I suspected many people came out of curiosity to see how I was and to learn how I intended to go on alone and unmarried.

I was so sad and confused; I hardly remember shaking hands with everyone in the cemetery. I might be independent, but I would be terribly lonely without Mother.

I thought everyone had gone, but as I stood talking with our priest, I sensed someone beside me and turned to see Ian Fitzgerald and his mother.

She reached for my hand immediately, her face much softer and gentler than I remembered.

“My dear, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thank you.” I had no idea what else to say to her. Had Ian told her how soundly I had refused him and how I stormed out of their house that evening?

I was sure he had.

I looked up into his gray eyes and again I was taken aback by his bold gaze, even on a day like today. He took off his hat and stepped forward, bending slightly, but making no effort to touch me. He seemed genuinely contrite.

 “Is there anything else you need, Isabella?” Father Robertson asked. “Some of the ladies of the church will bring supper to your home later. And I will check on you again tomorrow, if that is convenient.”

“Tomorrow will be fine,” I said. “Thank you so much, Father, for the service and all your kindnesses to my mother.”

“She was a good woman,” he said. “She will be missed.”

I nodded and turned, thinking to go to my carriage, and was surprised to find Ian and his mother still waiting.

“I hoped you would allow us to see you home,” Ian said.

“There’s no need,” I replied. “I have my own carriage.” I blushed, thinking of the shabbiness of it. And who knew what they would think of our run-down home. Having them there was the last thing I wanted.

I gathered up the skirts of my worn black silk dress and started walking toward the carriage.

“Miss Brady, wait,” Ian said, walking alongside me. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Talk?” I asked. “I don’t think we have anything else to say to one another.”

“You’re wrong, we do,” he insisted. 

I glanced sidelong at him and saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. It was obvious he was a man used to having his way.

“There is some business we need to discuss….something you probably don’t know and you need to hear it.”

I stopped, looking first at him and then his mother. Her eyes were serious, perhaps even a little apologetic.

Sighing heavily, I began walking again. “All right,” I said. “You may follow my carriage to the house.”

“I know the way,” he said.

“Of course you do,” I muttered beneath my breath. Ian Fitzgerald was probably the kind of man who made it his business to know everything about everyone.

Still, I was extremely curious to know what they wanted to discuss. Whatever it was, they both seemed anxious to talk to me. I had a feeling they would never behave so kindly toward me if they weren’t desperate. Apparently I had something they wanted. I found that idea fascinating and a little exhilarating.

I waited for them at the front door and led them into the parlor, the least threadbare room in the house.  I was glad to see a nice fire burning in the fireplace and within moments Mrs. Reed came into the room and placed a tray of tea and a plate of small cakes on the table in front of me.

I sat in a chair near the fire, my black skirts spread about me. Ian and his mother sat across from me on the settee. I took the pins from my black hat, removed it and set it aside.

I looked up to find Ian watching me intently. There was a mixture of curiosity and mystery in his look. The fact that I’d caught him staring at me did not faze him. His lips quirked into a kind of smile, and he continued looking into my eyes.

 I had to admit he was attractive and exciting. The kind of man any woman would want. He seemed somehow to know my feelings exactly. What patience I’d tried to muster left me, along with my manners.

“Exactly what is it you want from me?” I asked.

Ian’s gaze narrowed and I felt pleased that I had erased that arrogant smile from his handsome face. Mrs. Fitzgerald seemed taken aback and leaned forward on the settee.

“I’m sorry if we seem callous by coming to you so soon after— ”

“What Mother means is there is some information you need to know before you make plans for your future,” Ian said.

“Really? And what is that?” I took a sip of my tea, trying to appear casual.

“I’m afraid there’s no easy way to put this.” His voice was solemn and he no longer smiled. What more could happen to me?

“I’m not used to easy,” I snapped. “Say what you came to say.” I was far from as brash as I sounded. Inside I was terrified.

“One thing we didn’t discuss when you came to the house was this property and what would become of it if your mother passed away.”

“What do you mean?” I set my teacup down and it rattled loudly in the saucer. “The house was left to my mother and now it will belong to me. I don’t see how that concerns the Fitzgerald family at all. Surely the death of my mother negates the wager made between my father and yours.”

“One would assume,” Ian said carefully. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “After your father’s death, your mother was not able to continue making mortgage payments on this house.”

“There was no mortgage,” I said, though I wasn’t at all certain that was true.  Knowing my father and his habits I could feel a darkness closing in around me.

 “Your mother sent a message to me a few months ago, telling me of her financial hardship and her terminal illness. She wanted only for you to be taken care of after she was gone.”

He stood to hand the papers to me and I was on my feet immediately, confronting him even though he towered above me. I snatched the papers from his hands, silently cursing my trembling fingers for giving away just how frightened I was of what I would read inside.

Mrs. Fitzgerald murmured, “It is not our intention to upset you on this sad day.”

I ignored her, opening the papers and reading the words that were like a knife to my heart. When Mother died I had consoled myself with the fact that at least I had a home. I told myself I would find employment and I would continue to live here in the place where I’d lived all my life. It was the marsh where I always found my greatest comfort. Now it seemed I was not even to have that comfort.

The papers revealed my mother had already given over the house and property to Ian Fitzgerald in compliance with the wager that my father had made. In exchange Ian paid all her debts, loans against the house that I did not know existed. He also gave my mother a large sum of money to make our lives more comfortable. I couldn’t believe she kept all this secret from me.

I should have been grateful. I should have thanked him. Instead I had to fight my impulse to toss the papers into the fire.

“You must indeed be desperate to have this property— to force a woman to marry you for it,” I said.

He shook his head as he regarded me. “Desperate? I’m afraid you are the one who will find yourself in desperation if you insist on being so stubborn.”

But I was beyond reason. “What is it about this land that makes you want to marry a woman who does not want to marry you, who does not love you and will never love you?”

“Miss Brady.” His voice mocked me. “This has nothing to do with love. It has to do with acquiring property that will be beneficial to the Fitzgerald Estate. It has gone beyond the promise my father made and your mother’s bargain with me. My marriage proposal to you has to do with the integrity of the Fitzgerald family.”

“Integrity,” I scoffed and turned away from him, walking to the window. I looked out at the familiar lawn and the tangled marshland forest that lay beyond and tried to gather my wits.

If I became Mrs. Ian Fitzgerald this place would still be mine. I could come back here any time I wished, perhaps even live here if I chose. Not that I meant to mention that at the moment.

Despite his cryptic words about love I wondered if I could marry a man I didn’t love. Could I live with him for the rest of my life as his wife? Have his children?

Only I knew inside that, oddly, the thought of that was not offensive to me.  How could I be attracted to such a bold, arrogant man? A man I hardly knew. Would he be shocked to know I didn’t find that part so very disagreeable? Ian Fitzgerald was a very attractive man. Intriguing and powerful. He was a man that any woman would consider herself lucky to have. No doubt they felt I should feel grateful. A woman of my circumstance had very little chance of marrying so wealthy and powerful a man as Ian Fitzgerald.

Still, I could get along, because I didn’t require much in the way of material things. If I didn’t marry him, couldn’t I manage on my own? I might not have a mansion, or servants or a magnificent house, but I would have my independence and a quiet, satisfying life of my own choosing. But then, where would I live?

I realized there was no legal way to get out of the situation I found myself in. The papers were clear. They were legal and binding. I was left with no choice.

I wondered about Ian Fitzgerald’s cool, detached manner. Did that mean he was a man like my father? I could go willingly into a marriage with a man I barely knew if I could be sure he wasn’t like my father. I doubted I would survive if I had to spend the rest of my life with a man who treated me with as little respect as my father treated my mother.

“I’m very tired,” I said, turning from the window. I was not just making an excuse. I felt completely exhausted, and ready to burst into tears. The last thing I wanted was to break down in front of Ian and his mother.

“Of course you are,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said. “We should not have come here like this today expecting you to make a rational decision. It was completely wrong and I’m sorry for that.”

I glanced at Ian. I fully expected him to admit that it had been his idea and was surprised when Mrs. Fitzgerald continued.

“Ian tried to convince me to wait, but I would hear none of it. I sincerely apologize. I’m afraid one of my worse shortcomings is that I often make decisions without thinking of the consequences to others. I want things done quickly and…well, it’s a bad habit and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Ian said nothing but the way he held his jaw and the wry twist of his mouth told me he was having a hard time keeping silent.

“There’s no reason to apologize,” I said. I knew I’d been very rude. It
wasn’t like me and it wasn’t the way I wanted to start a relationship if indeed that was what it came to.

“You’re very kind.” She gave a little nod of her head. “We will call again at your convenience. You’ve only to send word to us.”

“Actually— ” My voice faltered and I began again, “I— I wonder if your son and I could meet alone and perhaps discuss a few things that are bothering me.”

“You don’t have to ask my mother. I can speak for myself.” Ian sounded a bit cross. “When would you like to have this discussion?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Are you sure that’s not too soon? We don’t have to rush.”