Annabelle leaned toward Mrs. Jameson, her chest heaving with her anger. “You consider yourself charitable?” She scoffed as Mrs. Jameson preened at the term. “If I bought you a dictionary, you wouldn’t be able to find the term. You’re heartless and mean and spiteful. You live off of others’ misfortunes in an attempt to feel significant.”
“Have you no pride? Allowing your husband’s whore to live in your home, along with his wife?” Her gaze filled with pity and superiority raked over Annabelle.
“My husband cares for my sister as his sister-in-law. What you think you know doesn’t matter to me. Unlike some women, whose husbands beggared their families from their frequent visits to the Boudoir …” She raised an eyebrow as she met Mrs. Jameson’s shocked gaze.
“How dare you?” Mrs. Jameson gasped.
“I dare because my sister is clinging to life after a man brutally attacked her. She has shown more bravery, more determination, and more refinement of spirit than you will ever understand in her attempt to survive in a world that is cruel to women living alone.” Annabelle took a deep breath. “A world you could make easier if you showed kindness rather than contempt.”
“Women such as your sister are beneath notice.” She shook her head in dismissal. “I will ensure that those in this town who still believe in morality understand that your bakery and your husband’s livery are businesses to be avoided.”
Annabelle gripped her hands together, turning her fingers white. “I see you in church each week, speaking with the pastor. I’m surprised the building doesn’t crash down upon your ears, if this is the measure of your Christian charity.” She pushed past Mrs. Jameson to run up her front steps, slamming the door behind her. She leaned against it, shaking with anger and dismay.
That evening she lay in bed, curled on her side as the scene replayed in her head. Cailean joined her, moving to curl around her as he held her in his arms. “Ah, heaven,” he murmured as he buried his nose in the hair at her nape. “I’ll never tire of holding you.”
She gripped his arm around her belly and fought tears. When she sniffled, his arm tightened as though questioning what was wrong. She stroked his arm once before turning to face him.
He frowned as he saw the tears tracking down her cheeks, chasing each one with his thumbs. “What’s brought this on, darling?” He swooped forward and kissed her cheeks.
“Oh, Cailean, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to harm your business.”
He frowned as he saw her anxiety mount. “What are you talking about? My business is sound. There are few foolish enough to forego Alistair’s abilities with a horse.”
She took a deep breath and sniffled. “I had a run-in today with Mrs. Jameson. She accused us of harboring a … a whore and suggested you had your own private bordello.” She flushed beet red. “I wasn’t kind to her.”
Cailean’s frown deepened, and he cupped Annabelle’s cheek with his palm. “She threatened to have the townsfolk boycott the livery?” At her nod, his lips twitched, and then he burst out laughing.
Her eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t understand why you aren’t angry.”
He watched her with tenderness, a callused finger stroking her cheek. “She’s tried, at various times during the past few years, to affect my business.” He sobered. “Because I refused to court her daughter.”
“Oh my,” Annabelle whispered.
“She wanted a successful businessman for a son-in-law, and I think she relished the thought of moving into this house.”
“What did you say to dissuade her? Alistair told me a few tales about your curt comments to the women of this town.”
Cailean shook his head. “I can’t recall, although I’m certain it wasn’t perceived as kind.” He fought a chuckle. “Imagine her dismay to watch me wed you and then have your sister move in.”
Annabelle’s shoulders relaxed, and she fell into his arms. “I won’t deny that her harsh words sting.” She snuggled farther into his embrace. “I trust you will tell me if she could harm your business.”
He kissed her head, his fingers playing in her hair. “She cannot. Hell, Belle, she couldn’t even hurt your business, and that was far less established than mine. She doesn’t have the influence she thinks she does.”
He sighed as he kissed her head. “However, I’m afraid some townsfolk already have the same impression she does about Fidelia and me.” He paused. “Forgive me, Belle. My visits to the Boudoir last fall have not helped this situation.”
“I wonder what they would say if they knew the truth?”
He chuckled at her whispered question. “Few would believe me. Men don’t go to the Boudoir for conversation.”
Annabelle sighed. “I’d be relieved if my business slowed down a little at the bakery. At least until school is done and Leticia can assist me again. After her wedding of course.” She kissed his neck and cuddled into his embrace. “Thank you for welcoming Fidelia here.”
“Your sister will always be welcome here, my love.”
The following night after dinner, Sorcha was upstairs spinning wool while Cailean had followed Alistair outside on the back porch to smoke his pipe. Annabelle ventured into the parlor to find Ewan reading. Lamps on tables lit the room, lending a gentle glow to the room, while the potbellied stove pumped out heat on this cold evening. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she murmured as she joined him on the settee.
He laughed. “But ye’re going to interrupt me anyway.”
She smiled. “Yes. I wanted to thank you for helping Fidelia. I should be embarrassed to have seen you at the Boudoir, but I will always be grateful you were there that night.”
Ewan smiled. “Cailean canna determine if he’d rather have me there or playin’ poker at the Stumble-Out.”
“I should think either place is a dangerous endeavor.” She smiled as he laughed, refusing to speak about his enjoyment of gambling.
He sobered as he focused on his sister-in-law. “I’m sorry yer sister was abused. No woman, no matter her profession, should be treated in such a way.”
“Thank you,” Annabelle whispered as she rested her head wearily against the back of the settee.
“I imagine ye’re having trouble convincing her to leave the Boudoir.” Ewan met Annabelle’s startled gaze. “Seems that Madam has a strange ability to convince the girls there that they will only ever have worth as a whore.”
“I loathe that woman.”
Ewan chuckled and set aside the book before crossing his palms over his stomach. “She’s an easy woman to dislike.” His amused gaze met hers. “I think she’s a woman terrified of poverty.”
Annabelle shook her head in disgust. “That may be the case, but she shouldn’t brainwash those poor women into believing they could do nothing more with their lives.”
Ewan sobered. “Not all are as able as ye, Annabelle. And many will look to others to make their lives easier.” He sighed. “An’ few are as fortunate to have family like I do.”
“Fidelia has family,” Annabelle snapped.
Ewan raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as she glowered at him. “Aye. Ye know it, and I know it. But I think she still has trouble believin’ it. For some, it takes a lot of time to prove ye’re steadfast.”
Two weeks later, Annabelle returned from the bakery, entered her home and headed for the kitchen. She stilled when she saw Sorcha and Cailean seated at the table, cups of untouched tea in front of them. Cailean’s gaze was guarded, while Sorcha’s eyes were red from crying. “What happened?” Annabelle grabbed Cailean’s arm. “Has something happened to Fidelia? Alistair? Ewan?” Her increasingly frantic gaze roved between the two of them as they remained silent.
“Sit down, love,” Cailean whispered. He waited until she had pulled out a chair before he began to play with her fingers. “I’ve failed you, and I’m so sorry.”
“Cailean, you’re frightening me. What’s happened?”
Sorcha pushed a crumpled note toward her, and Annabelle frowned. Sh
e glanced at it, her gaze focusing as she recognized Fidelia’s writing.
Forgive me. I never meant to cause you more trouble. I’m not worth it. Hopefully your business will improve once I’m gone.
Fidelia
“No!” Annabelle screeched. She ripped her hand from Cailean’s grasp and raced up the stairs. She barreled into Alistair’s room, what she had considered Fidelia’s room while she stayed here, and fell to her knees as she found it devoid of any evidence of her sister’s presence. “No,” she whispered as tears leaked out.
Cailean entered behind her, his soft touch on her shoulder causing her weeping to intensify. “I’m so sorry, Belle.”
“How could she leave?” She pounded her fists on the floor before turning and throwing herself into Cailean’s arms. “How could she?”
He tugged her until she sat comfortably on the floor in his embrace. He crooned in her ear until she had calmed and held her against his chest even when she tried to ease away from him. “It’s my fault. She heard me talking to Alistair about the slight downturn in business at the livery and Mrs. Jameson’s threats. I fear Fidelia thought it was because of her presence here.”
“Why would she worry herself about a horrible woman’s gossip?” Annabelle asked, rubbing her face against his chest.
“Words are powerful, Belle.” He sighed. “You know how the Madam controls the women with words as much as with any implied threat from her thug or her clients.” He kissed her head. “Ezekial arrived, and Sorcha let him in. She didn’t know who he was. Why would she?”
Annabelle shuddered and burrowed farther into his embrace.
“He asked after Fidelia, and, when she joined him downstairs, he didn’t have to say anything. She left with him, slipping that note into Sorcha’s hand.”
“Where were you?”
“In the barn. Sorcha came for me, and I raced after Fidelia. I’m sure that scene will feed the gossips for months.” His mouth turned down in disgust as his palms stroked her back. “I couldn’t convince her to return here. That she could have a better life here than in the Boudoir.”
He shifted Annabelle a bit and pulled another slip of paper from his pocket. “It was as though she knew I would follow her. She gave this to me for you.”
Annabelle’s hand shook as she grabbed the scrap of paper with Anna scrawled on it. She took a deep breath before reading:
I hope you will come to understand and accept that my life is to be lived in the Boudoir. I know you believe you love me, but this is my life, and I will live it my way. Alone and independent, with little need for family. Please don’t attempt to visit me or to change my mind. If I want to see you, I know where you are.
Charity
Annabelle dropped the note and fell into her husband’s arms as she sobbed. Images of her and Fidelia when they were young in Maine flitted through her mind. Of them chasing waves on a beach. Of them trying to catch fireflies. Of them hiding under a side table as they evaded their father’s wrath. She cried as though mourning her sister and her dreams for what could have been.
“I’m so sorry, Belle.”
“It’s not your fault. She refused to remain here. Refused my care.” Her voice broke. “My love.”
He tilted back until he could frame her face with his hands. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Belle. I think your care, your love, is what gave her the strength to return to that life. I think she’s terrified of depending on anyone again. Yet she’s not the same woman as when you arrived one year ago.”
“That horrible man who beats her will kill her. Someday. Somehow. And there’s nothing I can do to stop that,” Annabelle whispered.
“She might have returned to the Boudoir, but you’ve shown her your love. If she needs you, she’ll seek you out.”
“I’m such a fool,” she whispered as she fought more sobs, failing to calm with Cailean’s soft crooning. “I thought I could love her enough to ease her torments.”
“No one can love us better, Belle. And Fidelia must face her own demons and realize she deserves more than the life she leads at the Boudoir. A life that you are willing to help her lead.” His hold on her eased as she relaxed in his arms. “Hopefully she will realize that soon.”
Annabelle ducked her head. “I know you may think me a fool, but I can’t give up on her, Cailean. I will still continue to dream for her, even if she can’t dream for herself.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek and eased her away to meet her devastated gaze. “That doesn’t make you a fool. That makes you brave. And only causes me to love you more.” He kissed her forehead, moving backward to stand. He held a hand down to her, helping her up. “Come. Rest a while before dinner. There’s no reason for you to worry about everything tonight.”
He held her in his arms until she fell into a fitful sleep before joining his siblings downstairs.
The following Sunday, Leticia and Hortence joined them for dinner. Cailean had removed the extra chair that had been brought in from the parlor for Fidelia in the hopes of lessening Annabelle’s grief at the absence of her sister. Annabelle pulled a pot roast with root vegetables simmering alongside it from the oven. She sliced the meat, placed the vegetables in a bowl, and set everything on the table.
When she sat next to Cailean, he squeezed her leg and smiled. “Please, eat while it is hot.”
“What do you have for dessert, Miss Annabelle?” Hortence asked. She ducked her head when the adults laughed.
“It’s a surprise,” Annabelle said with a wink. She accepted the passing bowl of vegetables, serving herself a portion before handing it to Cailean. “How are the wedding plans progressing?”
Leticia groaned. “I would like to wed in late June, but the pastor insists it needs to be early June as he has to attend a convention in Minneapolis and will be out of town from mid-June until August.”
“An’ I dinna want to wait until August,” Alistair said, smiling when his statement provoked a fierce blush in his bride-to-be.
Cailean and Ewan laughed, but it was Ewan who spoke. “You’ve been mighty patient, Alistair, although Leticia is smart, making you wait until she’s good and ready.”
Annabelle gave her husband a tap on his arm. “You didn’t afford me the same courtesy.”
“No, but it all turned out well.” He raised her hand and kissed it. “So the wedding will be early June. Hopefully there won’t be much rain this year in June.”
“Mama says I get a new dress for the wedding!” Hortence said with a broad smile.
“I hope Sorcha is helping to sew it,” Annabelle teased. “I’ll focus on the cake.” She frowned as she noted an undercurrent of unease in Leticia, even though she attempted to feign excitement for her upcoming wedding.
“I will miss teaching.” At Leticia’s whispered comment, Alistair gripped her hand. “I hate that I must give it up.”
“Who have they found to replace ye?” Ewan asked.
“No one yet, but I’m hopeful they’ll find someone soon. I’d like to know there will be no interruption in the children’s education.”
Cailean sighed. “With Mrs. Jameson on the school board, it will be a challenge to find anyone willing to move here to work. She’ll scare any potential candidate away.”
“My replacement will believe we are all like Mrs. Jameson!” Annabelle said. “Wretched woman!” She flushed as she saw Hortence listening to their conversation with avid interest. “I said no such thing, Hortence. I didn’t mean it.”
“She’s a puffed-up bellows, full of hot air,” Hortence said around a bite of soft carrot. “That’s what Ephraim, one of the older boys in school, says.” She smiled as the adults laughed in agreement.
“Well, don’t go repeating what we say. I’d hate for your mother to get in trouble due to something one of us said.” Annabelle smiled at Hortence when she nodded her agreement. With Sorcha’s help, they cleared the table and left the plates to the side of the sink.
She extracted a round layer cake hidden on a shelf
in the pantry and set it on the table. It had white frosting with small rosettes around the top in light green. “I was feeling fanciful and hoping for spring. No one purchased this yesterday, so I thought we might as well enjoy it.”
“Irene and Harold would have enjoyed selling this,” Leticia said as she handed out glasses of milk to everyone.
“I was tired and didn’t feel like baking anymore.” She cut into it and caught her husband’s delighted smile when he realized one of the layers was chocolate. The other was a white cake. “I hope you enjoy the cake,” she said as she cut large slabs.
“And if you don’t, I’ll eat your piece!” Cailean said with a wolfish grin and a wink to his wife.
Later that evening, Annabelle rested in Cailean’s arms, sleep eluding her. When she sighed and rolled to her other side, he chuckled. “You need your sleep, love. You must get up early tomorrow.”
“I know. I can’t stop thinking about today.” She calmed as his fingers stroked over her arm before linking with her hand.
“What worries ye?” he asked, his accent reappearing as sleep beckoned.
“Why is Leticia uncertain about her marriage to Alistair? They’ve known each other for years. It makes no sense to me.”
Cailean snuffled out a laugh into her ear. “You look for a problem where there isn’t one. She’s worried about giving up teaching.” He sighed as his words did little to soothe her distress.
“I think there’s more.” She tucked her head under his chin. “No matter what I ask or what I say, she’s not inclined to speak with me about it.”
Cailean cupped her cheek and drew her face up so he could stare into her eyes. Faint moonlight illuminated the room. “Have ye ever stopped to think that she might fear marriage? I’ve yet to hear much about her first marriage.” He shrugged. “If it had been a good union, and she mourned him, I would expect to hear more about him.”
“You never speak of Maggie,” Annabelle whispered. His sharp intake of breath caused her to frown. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
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