MARGARET AND FIONA followed Eldon into his office. Margaret wanted to complain, seeing Jimmy sitting on the room’s couch reading the paper, wanted to have him thrown out, but decided not to push Eldon’s temper too far since she was already on thin ice with him. Instead, she walked to the two chairs in front of Eldon’s desk and sat in the left one, farthest from Jimmy.
“Take a seat, Finn,” Eldon ordered, pointing to the chair beside Margaret. She knew the position placed Fiona at a disadvantage, any possibility of a quick escape severely hindered. Margaret hoped that response wouldn’t be necessary. Eldon steepled his fingers under his chin, then sighed wearily. “You performed remarkably in your responsibility to keep my sister safe. I’m in your debt for that, Finn. However, God forbid this situation reoccur, you’re first priority is to get Margaret to me. I will always be her best protection. Understand?” Fiona nodded. “That being said, I owe you more than you can know.”
“As do I,” Margaret said. She directed her gaze to Eldon. “Granted this incident has put you behind with business, but Dr. Matthews recommended Finn rest his shoulder, as well as himself for a couple of days.”
Eldon dropped his hands to the desk. “This gives you a chance to work on the deal, Babs. Any headway in that matter we discussed?” The crux of Eldon’s long-term plans, marry her off. Margaret hoped the attack and the fact he’d given her two weeks and only a couple of days had transpired, would postpone his request. Maybe cancel the matter altogether. Seems I’ve misjudged Eldon’s familial patience, she thought dismally.
“What deal?” Jimmy asked, jumping from the couch. He glared from Eldon to her as he stood at the side of the desk, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Eldon glowered at him. “It’s a family matter Jimmy and not your concern.”
Margaret would have smiled at Jimmy’s rebuke, but expected it would only infuriate him more. Instead, she ignored him and stared back at Eldon. “Yes,” she said. No emotion accompanied the word. “I’ve decided to accept Janice Hartwell’s invitation to her party at the end of the week.”
“Good, good,” Eldon said. Margaret could almost see relief flash in his eyes, and in the relaxing of his shoulders. She felt a little respite of her own, hazarding the hope Eldon was second-guessing his initial championing of Jimmy. Eldon returned Jimmy’s continued glare. “Sit down or busy yourself elsewhere. I won’t have you hovering, damn it.” A long moment of hesitation, but Jimmy complied, dropping dejectedly onto the couch like a pouting child. “Now,” Eldon said, focusing on Fiona. “You’ve proved yourself trustworthy, Finn. Not to mention you’re invaluable to me as a driver, and protector of Graham valuables—personally and financially. I’d like you to be more accessible to me.” Eldon leaned back in his chair. “I’d like to offer you a room in the servant quarters.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Fiona sputtered.
Margaret brightened. She and Fiona would be under the same roof, seeing each other every day. Just as quickly, her emotions deflated for the same reasons. How hard would it be to feign an uncaring attitude with Fiona present every day? “Wonderful,” she said with a nod. “Finn will be better able to heal with constant supervision.”
From behind her, Margaret heard Jimmy snort rudely. “We can keep an eye on the little shit,” he said in a whisper.
Ignoring his comment, Margaret asked, “Can he go there now? Finn should be resting, Eldon.”
Eldon gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. It made her uncomfortable and worried about missing something. Was Eldon noticing some of her true emotions in her responses? Feelings she thought hidden. “You know your importance to me, Babs. So, for keeping you safe, and probably taking a bullet on your behalf, you must agree Finn needs to be rewarded.”
“And a room in the house is the best reward, sir,” Fiona said. “Thank you.”
“No, boarding you here at the house is more for me than your benefit, kid.” Eldon glanced at Margaret, then Fiona, and stopped on Jimmy as he continued. “You’ve been concerned enough about the girl you…found, going so far as to pay her boarding and such. So, I give…ah, I give—” Eldon seemed too uncertain to continue.
“Thelma?” Margaret supplied. She was afraid where this was going.
“Yes, of course, Thelma. I give her to you, Finn, as a reward for Bab’s safety.”
Behind them, Jimmy mumbled, “Fuck.”
Fiona rose slowly to her feet, her face flushed. Margaret noted the barely perceptible trembling in her body, hoped Jimmy and Eldon didn’t. “Sunny is not a possession to be passed around. She’s a human being. She’s also just a kid.”
“And she’s only a couple years younger than you, Finn.” Eldon shifted in his chair and leaned his arms on the desk. His focus turned to Margaret. “I suspect you believe there’s more to the story Finn originally gave you. The truth is her parents sold her to me. Thelma is indentured.”
“That’s barbaric, Eldon,” Margaret said, standing.
“Be that as it may, dear sister, Thelma is my property. If Finn doesn’t agree to my gifting of her, I will find other duties for her.” Jimmy guffawed, causing Margaret to shudder. “Jimmy, go get her so she can learn her new duties under this roof.”
“Gladly,” Jimmy said, all too eager.
“Don’t touch her, Jimmy. She’s formally off limits to you,” Eldon said, his tone serious. Mumbling something unintelligible, Jimmy left.
Margaret, and surely Fiona, was stunned by this turn of events. This wasn’t the Middle Ages where marketing in slavery was an established occurrence. Yet, if she and Fiona didn’t take this situation as a positive, Thelma would be the one to suffer the most. She only hoped Fiona would see it that way—eventually.
FIONA FELT SICK. How could Eldon treat a human, a beautiful child, as if she were an item for bartering? As quickly as the rage surfaced, Fiona accepted this course could make protecting Sunny easier. Eldon had warned Jimmy off if she agreed to this. If she explained this to Sunny, would she understand?
Before she could debate the pros and cons of the situation, a smirking Jimmy needlessly nudged Sunny into the room and beside Eldon. He walked behind Eldon’s chair and stood like a guard. Fiona knew he didn’t like Eldon’s proposal, but she hoped Jimmy wouldn’t cause trouble, at least on this matter.
“Thelma,” Eldon said, directing his gaze at her. “You’re aware of the deal your parents made with me, correct?” Sunny paled and gave a barely discernable nod. Tilting his head in her direction, he asked, “Are you aware Finn has requested to be your guardian? Has, in fact, been paying me to let you stay in my home, clothed and fed?” Sunny turned a surprised gaze on her, and Fiona shrugged. Returning her attention on Eldon, Fiona watched as Sunny shook her head. “Well,” Eldon said. He stood and placed his hands on Sunny’s shoulders. Sunny flinched noticeably. Fiona resisted the urge to rush to Sunny’s defense and forcibly remove his hands from her. “You no longer belong to me. For saving Miss Margaret, I have turned my ownership of you over to Finn. He’s moving into your room with you.”
Margaret shuddered beside her. “Eldon—”
Sunny gawked at Eldon, then at her. In a mere whisper, Sunny asked, “Truly?”
Fiona gave a nod. “Yes, Sunny. I’m responsible for you now.” Sunny darted away from Eldon, and launched herself into Fiona, clutching at her waist.
“I’ll be your property,” Sunny said, her words muffled into Fiona’s shoulder.
“You’re my ward, Sunny, not my property.” Fiona hurt that Sunny would willing accept Eldon’s terms. What kind of life had her parents given her? “I’m gonna take care of you.”
Jimmy’s verbal interruption tainted any positive mood inspired by the moment. “Fuck you regularly, he means, aye, runt?”
Fiona wanted to launch herself at Jimmy and pummel him. Instead, she tightened her grip on Sunny, startled by Sunny’s whimper. Loosening her grip, Fiona took a deep breath to get her anger under control. If nothing else, Eldon’s proposal would reinforce her
gender charade.
Margaret must have sensed her mood, as she gently placed a hand on her injured shouldered, and said to Eldon, “Now this matter is settled. Sunny and I will get Finn settled in, fed, and resting. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
Watching his sister more closely than the moment warranted, Eldon finally said, “Fine. We’ll talk more later, Babs.”
Not wanting to prolong this any longer than necessary, Fiona allowed Margaret to lead her and Sunny from the room and into the kitchen. Once there, Margaret pointed toward the table. “Sit down, Finn. I’m going to feed you, then get you settled into your room.”
Sunny took the seat on Fiona’s right, and whispered in her ear, “I sleep in Brigid’s room ’cause it’s safer than being alone. She has a spare bed.” Fiona nodded. “I’ll still stay with her, okay?”
She wasn’t sure why, but Margaret’s tone seemed distressed. “Miss Margaret?” Fiona didn’t believe Margaret was upset with her. This entire awkward situation was never under her control. However, something Eldon said or had done in his office concerned Margaret deeply. Fiona suspected it wouldn’t bode well for any of them. She’d let the matter wait.
“Not now, Finn. Eat and then rest.” She glanced toward the kitchen entrance. “We’ll talk later,” Margaret said, her tone barely audible.
Fiona nodded, then reached over and gave Sunny a one-armed hug, hoping to relay her happiness. Right now, Fiona would revel in the knowledge that Eldon had released Sunny into her custody. Later, she would mull over all the possible implications.
Chapter Nineteen
FIONA PUSHED OPEN the door to the apartment she’d shared with her father—until she ran from herself, him, and his violence. She glanced around and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Strewn about the room were dirty clothes and empty booze bottles. On a table in the designated kitchen area in front of the apartment’s only window, unclean plates and utensils, some with food caked to them, covered the top. She wasn’t surprised the contents of the table—and the table itself under the weight—wobbled from damage done when her father, Quinn, had launched her onto it with a wicked right cross. The smell of sweat and old food accosted her, and she fought the urge not to gag. If Eldon providing her room in his home had no other positive outcome, Fiona appreciated never having to come back to this hovel.
She shook her head and went to the far corner of the room with the radiator attached to the wall. Fiona knelt on the mattress tossed on the floor. When the former apartment had burned down with her mother and brother still inside, she and her father had moved here. Even though she was the one to pay the rent, as the senior adult her father had taken the only bedroom. Fiona pulled back the corner of mattress closest to the wall until she revealed the loose floorboard beneath. She pried it open, pulled out the handkerchief with her precious savings and keepsakes, shoved her treasure into her pants pocket, and stood. Fiona didn’t need to look inside the kerchief. She knew what lay within. A picture of the family at happier times, a cigar tube holding the money she’d squirreled away, and a gold chain with a single teardrop pearl once belonging to her mother. Unimportant to most, these simple items meant the world to her.
Fiona needed to leave before father got back. She’d made certain, before she’d come upstairs, to pay the next two month’s rent for her father. This would be the last time. No matter what happened with Eldon Graham, or Margaret, she would need to leave this horrid city soon. She replaced the board, recovered it with the corner of the mattress, standing and stomping lightly to assure no evidence of tampering remained. Hand inches above the doorknob for her escape from the room, the door roughly pushed open, and her father stood in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. Quinn stormed two steps toward her, grabbed her by the throat, and squeezed so Fiona couldn’t gasp air. “Where the hell’ve you been?” Quinn raked a gaze of disgust from her head to her feet. “What the fuck is this? How dare you embarrass me dressing like this?” He shoved her away from him so hard she barely stayed on her feet.
“Just let me go, Da. I came for my things, and I’ll never come back.” Fiona gauged the distance around him and to the door. He must have caught her gaze because he kicked a foot out behind him and the door slammed closed.
Quinn’s brown eyes blazed with fury, darkening them to black orbs. It was odd for Fiona to stare at an older, male version of herself with so much hate. “How dare you come back, taunting me with visions of my son?” Fiona would have rolled her eyes if she didn’t suspect it would anger him more. “You’ll pay for this disrespect.” He lunged at her, but Fiona managed to twist and sidestep him, her attention focused on the exit.
Fiona, again with the doorknob in hand to pull the door open, felt an object connect painfully with her left temple. Quinn, she realized, had thrown a bottle at her. Luckily, it didn’t break. The blow thrust her face forcefully into the wood. Before she could reorient herself, Quinn’s hand grasped her back collar and jerked her backward, slammed a kick into the bend of her knee, effectively dropping her to the hard floor. Pivoting to the right, extending a hand in front of her on the floor to gain a modicum of balance, Fiona was rewarded with a kick to her abdomen hard enough to raise her inches off the floor, before a second kick that landed in her solar plexus. Quinn gripped her shirt in his fist with his left hand and elevated Fiona just enough to slam his right fist into her face, once, twice. She could feel the warm blood dripping from various gashes on her face, feel the edges of darkness envelop her.
“What the—” Quinn’s voice growled his dissatisfaction of being interrupted from his fun.
“You sonofabitch, I should kill you for this. You disgust me.” Fiona recognizing Ian’s voice from somewhere in the room and took the opportunity to stand on unsteady legs. Her balance slow to return, she moved to lean on the wall beside the open door.
“I disgust you?” Quinn asked in a disbelieving tone. “The stupid bitch is dressed like a boy, but you’re not sickened with that, are you? Did your family encourage this pathetic behavior?”
“No, none of us did.” Ian turned an assessing gaze in her direction, just as Claire burst into the room scanning the scene and settling her attention on her. Claire pressed herself to Fiona’s side, allowing her a chance to use Claire for support. Fiona now in the hands of Claire, Ian sneered in Quinn’s direction. “Fault Fiona her means to an end in silence Quinn as none of the Donnelly clan will join you in that endeavor. She’s paid your rent and keeps you fed, or would if you didn’t drink her money away. Fiona’s why you’re not out on the streets.” Fiona didn’t know what Ian was trying to do because Quinn wouldn’t hear anything he didn’t want to hear. Anything positive involving his daughter would fall into that category.
In her ear, Claire whispered, “Are you okay?” Fiona nodded, immediately sorry when her head throbbed at the movement. “Let me clean you up at our place.”
“No, she’s gonna stay here.” Quinn shouted. “It’s about time she quit shirking her duties around here.” He glowered in her direction. “You’ll clothe yourself appropriately, and set your ass to cleaning this place up. It’s about time you quit these repulsive shenanigans and get yourself a husband. Starting now.” He barely took a step in her direction when Ian stopped him with a sharp blow to Quinn’s chest. “Dammit, Mick, I’ve got a right to discipline my own daughter.”
“Your brutality is not discipline.” Grabbing him by the collar, Ian jerked upward, so Quinn’s feet barely touched the floor, and then shoved hard. Quinn tottered backward clumsily until he collapsed onto the mattress. Without taking his scrutiny from Quinn, Ian asked, “Do you have all your belongings, Fiona?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Please take Claire home for me?” Fiona would smile at his allowing her to preserve some dignity, but she feared her injuries would make the action too gruesome for Claire. With Claire’s assistance, Fiona left her father’s apartment for the last time. She wanted to do it standing straight, but her stomach
muscles protested. Behind her, Fiona heard Ian’s comment, “If Fiona wouldn’t be angry, I’d get her money, which she just handed over to the landlord. Stay away from her, Quinn. I find you anywhere near her, I’ll kill you.”
Claire opened the door to the Donnelly apartment and helped Fiona to a chair. Once seated, Claire said, “Stay here. I’ll get some hot water and cloth to clean you up.” Fiona nodded obediently. She leaned her head to rest against the chair back and closed her eyes. She heard Ian’s stomping gait, a sure sign of his agitation, as he entered the room and closed the door. He didn’t say anything and hadn’t moved. Fiona’s eyes flew open in surprise when Claire returned and said, “Fred, bring the side table over here.” Who in the hell is Fred? Her gaze went to the couch and saw a young man, tall from the looks of it, with a mop of thick, curly blond hair on his head, large hands and feet, and about as gangly as her. Freckles heavily splattered across his nose and cheeks. She suspected it his normal physique, being at least mid-twenties and well past any growing spurts. Fred watched every move Claire made as if her actions were the most enjoyable spectacle to witness. His adoration of her friend was obvious.
Ian answered her unspoken question. “Fred Morton. Fred is my partner on the police force.” He pushed himself away from the door and sat at the opposite end of the couch, and across from her location. “Had some things to talk to you about, Finn. Gotta say, this wasn’t the condition I’d hoped to find you in.”
Fiona gave Fred a quick assessment and decided to trust him if Ian trusted him. “Not happy with this myself, Mick.” Claire, washing the blood away, hit a particularly tender area on her face. Fiona flinched. “I’d intended to be in and out before he returned. Damned Irish luck of mine, anyway.” Her face was swelling, if the tightness was any indication, and prevented Fiona from flashing a smirk in his direction. “How’s Nana?”
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 11
