16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

H e asked her to give him three days. “Don’t expect me to come for my usual visits, as I don’t want to raise suspicion.”

“Why would you raise suspicion if you visited me?”

Noah had smiled at the question. “Because you’re mine now, and every one of them will realize it the second they see us together.”

She’d lifted her chin, a little perturbed at him for insinuating that she couldn’t pull off a ruse. “I can behave.”

With a rough squeeze on her bottom and a final kiss that left her weak in the knees, Noah shook his head. “I can’t.”

When they parted, he planned to write to Dr. Parsons in Ohio and to his parents, but he didn’t want to tell his brother yet. “I love Beau, but he’s never been able to lie a single day in his life. I’ll leave him a note, and he can be our eyes and ears here once we’re gone.”

Their plan for departure was to take place on the third night, directly at midnight. He would signal by lantern again, and they would ride off on Hope and enter a new life.

It would work. Willa had to believe it would work and trusted Noah completely. However, as it turned out, while Noah had thought his presence would cause suspicion, his absence did the same .

Alone in the library the next day, she didn’t notice Bonnie staring from the doorway at first. “And where is Dr. Anderson this afternoon?”

Head down and eyes on the book she was reading, Willa replied evenly, “I’m not sure.”

She sat curled on the couch, having chosen the library rather than her usual lounger in the conservatory for two reasons. The first being that she thought she might hide her small suitcase in the conservatory and didn’t want to draw attention to the spot.

The second was that the library’s couch had more cushioning than the one in the conservatory, and when she had awakened with an ache leftover from her night with Noah, Willa had taken great care not to alert anyone to her tender state.

She couldn’t very well walk around wincing all day.

“It’s Tuesday.” Bonnie stepped into the room, a furry army of cats accompanying her. The beasts spread throughout the room as they slinked in, taking up space on various pieces of furniture. “He always comes on Tuesdays.”

Lucy passed the door, humming a jaunty Christmas tune. “It is the holiday season,” Willa said, closing her book. “Perhaps he’s busy with family affairs.”

Hearing her speak, Lucy spun into the room. “Willa, you have a note!”

It was probably another letter from Mr. Richards. He wrote three times a day, and while Willa never bothered to read them since Lucy had completely taken over corresponding with him, she held out a hand for the envelope. “Mr. Richards?”

Lucy shook her head. “It’s from Dr. Anderson.”

Heat crept up her neck, a flush she couldn’t stop as she stood from the couch to take the letter. She missed him to a degree she hadn’t thought possible.

“Let me have it.” Bonnie snatched the note before Willa’s fingers could connect with the paper. “What does the dear doctor have to say that he cannot say in person? ”

Bile shot into Willa’s throat. “I beg your pardon, but that letter is addressed to me.”

Ignoring her, Bonnie read the entire thing in seconds. “It appears he has a cold.” Her dark gaze lifted to connect with Willa’s. “As a doctor, one would think he would know that traipsing around in the woods so late at night can cause these types of ailments.”

Beneath Willa’s feet, it felt as if the floor had crumbled away, leaving nothing but the fiery pits of hell to lick at her heels. “What do you mean?”

Bonnie stuffed the letter into the pocket of her apron. “Lucy, leave us.”

Too wrapped up in reading another letter, her sister giggled at whatever was on the page and left without so much as a backward glance.

A tightness squeezed Willa’s chest, and she attempted to remain calm. One word from Bonnie to her father, and she would need all her faculties to deal with his wrath.

“Your sister is growing close with John Richards.” Bonnie went to the library door and closed it with a soft click. “I’m assuming you’ve noticed?”

Sinking slowly, Willa sat perched on the edge of the couch. “I have.”

“And you are not bothered by this?”

“I’m supposed to marry him,” Willa began. “Wanting my sister to get along wi—”

Bonnie cut her off with a cluck of the tongue. “I know about Paul and that Katie girl.”

Staff gossiped—it was the way of things—but Bonnie knowing Paul Anderson’s secret was a bit of a surprise. Most of the staff at Haven House never regarded her as one of them.

“News from the Anderson’s household?”

Sitting next to her, Bonnie heaved out a sigh. “It’s not pretty over there. Ulrich is furious, but Paul is adamant that he loves Katie. ”

“I noticed Katie is not here anymore.” None of the Port Michaelson girls were. Not even Jennie was loitering about this afternoon. “Did you dismiss them?”

“From my understanding, they know to stay away now that Katie has ruined their fun. If your father were to be made aware of what Cal and the rest of you have been up to…”

She didn’t need to finish. They all knew there would be hell to pay.

“I only recently became aware of Cal courting Jennie,” Willa replied. “I know it’s a sore subject, but perhaps he will understand the attachment because of you.”

In the corner, a cat hissed, its hackles rising at the remark.

“Sore subject?” Bonnie raised her own hackles, her dark hazel eyes glazing over with a fiery anger she rarely let show. “If anyone is sore in this room, it is you, Wilhelmina. Care to explain what went on last night?”

Willa counted the seconds, keeping the steady metronome of air flowing. The technique, which she learned at a young age, helped her keep an attack at bay when upset.

And it wouldn’t help to lie. Bonnie never made accusations without proof.

“Cal told you?”

The color in Bonnie’s cheeks dimmed, fleeing as she paled. “Your brother knows?”

“He was out on the porch with Jennie around midnight,” Willa confessed. The truth might as well come out now, so when she went missing in two days, someone would have a vague idea of where she had gone. “I don’t know what they were doing.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can guess,” Bonnie said sarcastically.

Willa blinked at her. Could she? Could this tiny woman who always held herself to the highest level of decorum truly understand what it meant to engage in such things?

As if reading her mind, Bonnie chuckled and checked to ensure the library door was securely closed. “Yes, Willa. Your father had me several times over before marrying your mother. ”

Willa’s mouth opened and closed, her brain not knowing quite what words to release. The image…no. She would not allow her mind to show her the sight.

“Oh.”

The lackluster response had Bonnie grinning widely, and the sight of her smile struck Willa into silence. It was easy to forget how beautiful this woman could be when she was happy. Much like her own mother, when the veil of harshness and pain brought on by Stephen Fairweather was lifted, the two women positively glowed.

“He’s not a good man. Never has been. Yet, strangely, I think that’s what drew me to him. Stephen was awful to everyone but me, and I fell right into love with him because of it.” The smile drifted downward, losing its momentum. “And he loved me right back, but we both understood that for all this to survive—for us to survive—sacrifices had to be made.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Cal is not serious about this dalliance with Jennie. He knows he has a responsibility to marry well, just as his father did.”

A weight the size of an elephant sat in her stomach, and Willa turned away. “Just as I do.”

“Not necessarily.” Bonnie laid a hand on Willa’s leg. “Paul Anderson is no longer an option for your sister.”

“Ulrich can change his mind and force the match, especially once Father hears of what has happened.”

“Katie is with child.”

Willa’s head snapped back around. “You’re joking.”

Smug as ever, Bonnie nodded. “As I said, Paul Anderson is no longer an option for Lucy, but Mr. Richards is. We need that land, and just as what’s grown between you and Dr. Anderson, your sister and John are engaging in something more than a simple attachment.”

Willa didn’t know what to say, not sure if this was a trick, but then Bonnie snatched her hand. “Listen to me,” Bonnie whispered. “I don’t want to know what you have planned. ”

“I don’t have anything planned,” Willa lied.

With a roll of her eyes, Bonnie sighed. “I have known you since you entered this world, Wilhelmina, and I can tell that you and your doctor have something planned.” She waved a hand in the air, flapping it in frustration. “But that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know the details.”

“Alright.”

It was all the confirmation Bonnie needed, and she hugged Willa, who went stiff in her arms. The sensation of being held felt strange. No one in this house ever touched her in such a manner.

“That’s my girl. I knew you were strong,” Bonnie murmured, cupping the back of Willa’s head. “From here on out, you must ignore what you hear or see, and when it comes time to follow through with your plans, you will go. Don’t look back, just go.”

Up in her room, Willa dressed for dinner. Every night until the new year, her father would demand that they present themselves in formal attire during their evening meal as if Haven House were entertaining the masses when really it was only the Fairweathers and Bonnie around the table.

Her odd discussion with Bonnie the day prior had ended abruptly when her mother swept into the library. “What’s going on in here?” Margaret had flung open the library door, sending the cats scattering. “What are you two discussing?”

“Willa was feeling a little ill,” Bonnie had informed her. “I didn’t want to upset anyone else, so we shut ourselves up in the library until it passed.”

The excuse had been enough for her mother, who sent Willa out so she could discuss the Christmas schedule for the following week with Bonnie. Willa had to give it to them. Haven was looking beyond lovely, with decorations and reminders of the season stuffed into every corner .

Bonnie never approached her again, and too terrified over her plans, Willa kept to her room. The time alone had given her a chance to think. She had so many questions. How far would they travel that first day? They needed to get to a rail depot, but the closest one was nearly fifty miles from Haven House. Would they take the horse the whole way? Could she ride for that long? What if she had an attack while they traveled?

The leaves for the tea Noah claimed would help ease her lung spasms were stored safely in her top dresser drawer, and she would be sure to bring them, but it wasn’t as if she could put a kettle on while traveling by horse.

However, even with all these unanswered questions, she had complete faith in Noah. He would never fail her. Never. She was solid in the belief that his intentions were true and his love for her was real.

As she fixed her hair in the mirror, a commotion in the hallway caught her attention. Concerned over what might be happening, she slowly approached her bedroom door but fell back in shock when the thing burst open and her father stormed in.

“What have you done?”

He wasn’t shouting, though the deadly quiet rage coming off him was enough to send Willa scrambling as he stalked her across the room. “Nothing.”

“Lies,” he hissed. “You are a lying whore.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

The back of his hand struck her cheek, and Willa stumbled, unable to catch herself before falling to the hard floor. Landing on her side, she wheezed, the wind knocked out of her from the impact.

“What did you say to John Richards?”

She scurried like an injured animal into the room’s corner. The hit on her face burned, and the pain radiating from her right hip and arm didn’t permit her to move very fast. “Nothing!” The word came out on a wheeze, the familiar tightness inflaming her chest. She needed to lower her voice and work on breathing. “I have not spoken to John Richards.”

Standing above her, Stephen Fairweather coldly stared at his daughter trembling on the floor. “But you write to him?”

“No.”

“Do not lie to me, Wilhelmina.”

“I don’t write to him. I never have.” Like a coward, she held her cheek and sobbed. “Lucy has been sending him the letters, not me.”

“Are you telling me that it is your little sister who is owed my wrath?”

Curling into herself, Willa tucked into a ball. She hated him. Hated . There was not one redeeming quality about this man. He was no father. The mill was his offspring—his only love—and not even a hopelessly devoted Bonnie could pierce the heart of Stephen Fairweather. “Don’t you dare hurt Lucy.”

“John Richards has withdrawn his pursuit of you. A letter arrived today, expressing his stance and how he felt as though you were never truly invested in a courtship with him.”

A stampede of footsteps carried up the stairs. On the floor and behind her bed, Willa couldn’t see who had arrived, but she called out to them anyway.

“What’s this?” Bonnie rushed around the bed and stopped short when she saw Willa. “Stephen?”

“Richards has decided that he and Wilhelmina are not a good match.”

“And you punish Willa for the man’s poor judgment?” Bending down, Bonnie wrapped an arm around Willa’s lower back to support her in sitting upright. “That’s not exactly fair, is it?”

Margaret appeared, and she watched Willa with the same grotesque detachment as her husband. “What isn’t fair is that we needed that land,” she said. “The mill requires it to survive.”

Helping Willa stand, Bonnie shook her head. “But if the Andersons and Fairweathers merge, we might not need the Hollingsdale property.”

“You have no say in the matter,” Margaret snapped at Bonnie. “Now, go downstairs and see if Mrs. Graham will have dinner prepared on time. ”

The dismissal shocked everyone in the room. The kinship between Bonnie and her mother was unmatched, and to hear Margaret order her friend about in such a way was odd. Willa was sure her father would turn his fury on his wife.

But he didn’t, and when Bonnie made no move to leave, it was Stephen who jerked his head toward the door. “Go on, Bon.”

Reluctantly, Bonnie released her, and Willa nearly toppled over again. She tried to walk to the corner chair but didn’t quite make it, holding on to its back as she strained for air. A coughing fit was on the rise, and a coughing fit only meant a severe attack was imminent.

“Get ahold of yourself.” Her father had no patience when it came to her illness. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Wilhelmenia. I don’t care if you can breathe or not.”

She shook her head, the strands of her hair sticking to her wet cheeks. There was no getting ahold of herself. The attack was in its beginning stage, building into a crescendo that would leave her vulnerable.

“Noah.” Hissing his name like a prayer, she begged her parents. “Please. I need help.”

“That man is never coming here again.” Her father crossed his arms. “He fills your head with nonsense and is likely the entire cause of Richards backing off.”

“Or Richards has turned from one Fairweather to another,” Bonnie said. She hadn’t left, standing directly behind Willa while wisely not offering her assistance. “What did the letter say exactly, Stephen?”

From his pocket, Willa watched through her spotty vision as her father produced a piece of paper and handed it to Bonnie, who skimmed the missive quickly. “Where’s the rest?” She flipped to the back and saw that it was blank. “There was more, wasn’t there?”

Willa didn’t bother to try to make out the words as she could hardly follow what was happening when her mother rushed over to read the letter with Bonnie .

“Stephen?” Margaret snatched the letter from Bonnie. “This note is only one page and ends in the middle of a sentence. What did you do with the second page?”

“Richards is an imbecile at best,” he grumbled. “The fool likely forgot to place the rest of the letter in the envelope.”

“John is not a fool,” Lucy said from the doorway, and all heads spun in her direction. “He’s quite brilliant.”

“Get out, Lucy,” their father ordered. “I plan to deal with you later.”

Braver than all of them, Lucy stuck her chin in the air. “What did the rest of the letter say?” she persisted. “Was it about me?”

“None of it matters.” Marching across the room, Stephen Fairweather seized his youngest child by the upper arm and shook her. “You are to marry Paul Anderson.”

Willa pushed her way to the chair, knocking Bonnie and her mother aside. “Please help me.” She waved a frantic hand at the dresser across the room where she had hidden the tea leaves. “Leaves for a tea.” Her finger shook as she pointed to the drawer. “Treatment from Noah.”

No one paid her any attention.

“Paul is marrying a young woman named Katie,” Bonnie announced, placing a hand on Margaret’s arm. “You’ll remember her, Stephen. She was the pretty blonde girl we hired to work in the kitchens.”

Lucy’s face turned a disturbing shade of pale while their father’s went blistering red. “Ulrich will never stand for it. Paul is promised to Lucy, and the mills will merge. He would never throw his entire fortune away on the whims of that no-good son.”

“And yet, he is.” Bonnie went to the dresser drawer where Willa was pointing and retrieved the small bag of leaves. “Lucy, your sister needs help. Take this downstairs and instruct Mrs. Graham to make tea with it. Once it’s ready, bring a cup immediately.”

Finally realizing Willa’s distress, Lucy rushed over. “Yes, of course.”

“Be quick about it,” Bonnie said, handing her the bag. “Shut the door on your way out. ”

Knowing not to argue, Lucy hurried from the room, closing the door as she went.

“The girl is pregnant, Stephen.” Bonnie returned to the corner, bypassing Margaret to take Willa’s hand. “It’s confirmed.”

Margaret at least had the decency to gasp. “You must be joking. With a kitchen maid?”

The insult wasn’t lost on Bonnie, and she flinched. “Paul is said to be elated, and the couple will marry at Christmas.”

“Paul Anderson can’t marry some kitchen maid,” her father bellowed loud enough that Willa swore she felt the bones of Haven House quake in fear. If her heart hadn’t already been racing, it would have jolted in sheer terror at his barely contained anger. “In order to survive, sacrifices must be made.”

“Times are different,” Bonnie replied calmly. “The world is changing.”

“The world will never change enough to where a man who is set to inherit can marry the woman he wants.”

Bitterness clung to every word, his own destiny serving as a reminder of how things should be done.

“What’s happening here?” Cal stumbled into the room red-faced and chest pumping. He looked as if he’d run a mile to get there. “Willa?”

“She’s having an attack, Cal.” Margaret moved around the bed to keep her son back, pushing his chest lightly. “Go downstairs.”

Cal refused to budge, staring menacingly at their father. “What have you done to her?”

“None of your business, boy,” their father spat out. “But if I hear that you knew anything about Paul Anderson and that kitchen maid, it’ll be you next.”

Something behind Cal’s eyes snapped, and their mother was shoved aside. “And how exactly will you deal with me?”

Willa felt her gut clench in dreaded anticipation. Her brother rarely allowed his temper free anymore. Not like he did when he was younger. Not since he’d become a grown man who grasped the importance of tucking away that Fairweather darkness in favor of being charming.

Their mother was in front of Cal again. Hands on his shoulders, she desperately whispered for him to remain calm. Willa couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but whatever it was did the trick. Cal listened and met their mother’s gaze with a curt nod, the storm of his anger passing before it ever had a chance to descend upon them.

“Cal and I are going to hurry them along with Willa’s tea, but if it doesn’t work, we’re sending for the doctor, no matter what you say,” Margaret said over her shoulder as she led Cal to the door. “We don’t need yet another dead daughter in this family.”

With her mother gone, Bonnie helped Willa onto the bed. “Paul’s woman is pregnant, Stephen. You cannot change that fact.”

“There are ways,” he came over to sneer at Willa as if he were watching a half dead dog dying in the streets. “We both know there are ways, and that damn doctor over there can help.”

Willa stiffened at the mention of Noah, which was a mistake. The strain on her muscles caused a coughing fit to take hold, and with her insides on fire, she clawed at the bedspread, trying to brace herself as the attack mounted its strength.

“Don’t you remember how excited we were?” Bonnie rubbed circles on Willa’s back, massaging gently until the fit eased. “Remember how big our dreams had been at that age?”

“We were fools, Bon. So blindly happy we didn’t see how it would fail us in the end.” Her father scrubbed a hand down his face. “Destiny smiled down upon us for a single day and then stole it away before we could love her.”

“Oh, now I don’t believe that,” Bonnie replied, soft and kind. “We loved her, and she knew we loved her. How could she not? I’ve never in my life seen you as happy as you were when you held her for the first time.”

“Ah, Bon. You shouldn’t hold on so tight to her memory.”

“Why not? It’s all I have.” Bonnie’s mouth screwed tight. “And you think I blame you when I don’t. No one is to blame, just as no one is to blame for Willa having the same breathing affliction as our baby girl. I’m sorry you were the one holding her when it happened, Stephen. I’m sorry I fell asleep, and you were the only one with her when she passed.”

“Don’t do it to yourself, Bon,” her father said gruffly. “There’s no point in living in the past.”

“You think about her as much as I do,” Bonnie insisted. “Deny it all you want, but I see the flowers you leave on her little grave.”

Rolling to her side, Willa’s hazy mind tried to follow what they were saying, but it didn’t make sense. Who were they talking about, and what little grave?

“She deserves to be remembered as much as Gracie,” her father murmured. “Our girl would have outshined every one of them if she had lived.”

If she had lived .

It came to Willa all at once. In the rear corner of the graveyard, a small, unmarked stone lay half-buried in the dirt. A child’s grave, which she assumed was some long-lost relative from the past. She only knew it was there because whenever she worked up the courage to visit Grace, there would be little sprigs of flowers on the marker from time to time.

Her father had left the flowers.

Her father and Bonnie had once had a child together.

“But it was for the best that she didn’t.”

Bonnie stilled at his cruel words, holding her breath as she listened.

“There was no place for her in this world, Bon,” her father continued. “No place for her as a Fairweather.”

Closing her eyes, Bonnie nodded and turned her head when a tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and regained her composure within seconds of it falling. “Let Lucy be happy. Give her to Richards. The marriage will secure the planting land in Hollingsdale,” she told him, stroking Willa’s hair. “We have another in with the Anderson family, and if an alliance forms, the mills will grow, securing that the Fairweathers will always remain at Haven House, as it should be.”

“You can’t mean Wilhelmina?” Her father’s dark eyes squinted at her wheezing on the bed. “The doctor might be entertaining himself with a little flirtation, but he’s too handsome. He’ll leave this place and forget all about her.”

Bonnie chuckled. “He’s already had her, Stephen. The deed is done, and she could be with child already.”

Moaning in denial, Willa braced for her father’s anger, knowing in this state she would not survive if he chose to physically attack.

“Well, well, Willa. Aren’t you a surprise?” Her father kneeled to look her dead in the face. “I would have never thought you’d have the courage to do something like that.”

“They used his medical cottage from what the whispers are saying, and I was quite tickled by the irony.” Bonnie turned to speak directly to Willa. “That’s where your father and I would go in our younger years. It was our little ‘house’ where we pretended the world was different and we could be together,” she said. “Our daughter was even born there. On a cold January morning, she took her first breath, and by the afternoon, she took her last.”

Willa didn’t know if she should be shocked or horrified or both, but it was the one time in her life when she was thankful for this awful disorder’s ability to rob her of speech.

“We won’t get anything out of the Andersons if she’s dead. Where is that damn tea?” Her father rose to stand and turned to the door as if he were expecting someone to magically appear. “Or perhaps we should call the doctor?”

Bonnie watched him pacing, her gaze shifting into a quiet resolve as she tracked his movements. “That bruise on her cheek will just upset him. It’s best to leave calling Dr. Anderson over as a last resort.”

Groaning between the hacking, Willa could only listen to Bonnie’s reasoning even though she wanted to cry out in denial. She needed Noah. This attack could be one of her worst, and she was terrified .

Her father grunted something under his breath and returned to examine her. “Do you really think Noah Anderson is going to make a wife out of Willa?” he asked, a bit perplexed. “Willa? Bon, be serious. How on earth is she ever going to make him happy?”

“Have a little faith.” Bonnie patted Willa’s hip, the very one she had landed on. It hurt like the devil, and she had a feeling Bonnie knew it. “We can help her. Margaret and I can teach her how to please a man properly.”

Willa covered her face with her hands. This sickeningly bizarre conversation bordered on the insane and was causing her chest to hurt as much as her head.

“You be the one to talk to her, Bon. That wife of mine couldn’t please a dead man,” her father’s gruff voice said. “And you listen to me, girl. If you can secure yourself an Anderson that will force Ulrich to merge our mills, then I’ll throw you the biggest damn wedding in the history of Haven House.”