Storm at Marshbay (9 page)

“The night Marguerite died the weather was stormy and windy. The sound of the ocean can be disconcerting when it storms out here. It blocks out all other sound so all you hear is the persistent roar. It was like that then. It wasn’t that late—darkness came early because of the storm.”

He lifted his head and looked at me and I saw such anguish in his eyes that I wished he could be spared from telling this.

“Go on,” I whispered.

“Edna and Marguerite were very close— odd because they were complete opposites. But I think Marguerite recognized Edna’s fragile nature even before we did. Edna was the one who found Marguerite that night— a horrible scene. The horse was frantic and blood was everywhere. Poor Edna. By the time she found help and they removed the horse, she was hysterical. No one could calm her. She had to be bathed and tended to and put to bed like a child. By morning when she felt more herself, she told me that as she was going to the studio, she had seen a man hurrying away. She was certain he was the one who had caused Marguerite’s death.”

“Who was it?” I asked, sitting forward in my chair.

“She thought it was James.” He sighed and shook his head.

“No,” I whispered.

“It wasn’t James, couldn’t have been James. He and I had been in the study going over some papers. We were together when Marguerite stopped by and said she was going to the studio— she loved working out there when it stormed. James was with me the entire time. And he was with me when they told us there had been an accident.”

“Edna still thinks it was James,” I said, understanding her actions for the first time.

“She would never believe anything else,” Ian said. “Finally James stopped trying to convince her because he feared she was going to go completely insane. He thought his love could make her well.”

“Well, then who— ?”

“My father. That’s who Edna saw running away that night. He was the one having the affair with Marguerite. Unfortunately, my wife would do anything for money and Father was the kind of man who didn’t mind paying for what he wanted. It’s similar to what he did to your father— and ultimately to you. I loved him— but he was not a good man and he certainly was not a good husband. We don’t think he murdered Marguerite. I think they had a violent quarrel. She might have come at him and he could have pushed her away so hard that she fell and hit her head. The horse was extremely agitated and I believe she must have fallen beneath his flailing hooves.”

I gasped. It was all so unbelievable.
But the pain in his eyes told me it was true.

“I’m so sorry, Bella,” he said. “I thought you were the one good thing I could have in my life. I never dreamed any of this would put you in danger.”

“Darling,” I said, without a thought for the endearment I used, “You and James have kept all this a secret to try and protect Edna?”

“And Mother,” he said.

“She doesn’t know that your father…? Oh, Ian.”

“I will tell her tonight. This can’t continue. Look at the damage it’s caused. I had no idea that Edna was ill again and neither did James. I expect today Edna must have told you that Marguerite was expecting a child.”

“Yes, she did say that.”

“It wasn’t Marguerite. Edna was the one expecting a child. She lost the baby the day after the accident.”

“Oh, no. How awful.”

“She was terribly ill and confused. She spent months in a sanitarium. After she came home she didn’t remember much and she was often confused about what happened. She sometimes thought
she
was Marguerite.”

I shuddered.

“My father, probably for the first time in his life, experienced real, tragic consequences for something he’d done. He lost his first grandchild and realized he had caused irreversible damage to Edna. He went into a deep depression; his health deteriorated and he never recovered. Our mother had lost a daughter-in-law and a grandchild as well and now her husband. We couldn’t tell her; we just couldn’t. We were afraid we’d lose her, too. I know now we were wrong. But you have to understand the life we lived because of him. He made us think the way he lived with secrets and lies and deception was the way everyone lived and it’s taken awhile to realize how wrong we were.”

I thought of that moment in the courtyard the day I agreed to marry Ian. I’d sensed that his childhood was no easier than mine had been. Now I knew why.

I went to him and to his surprise, sat in his lap, putting my arms around him and my head on his shoulder. He held me tightly against him. I heard him sigh and felt his body relax. I knew what relief he felt because I felt the same way.

There was hope now. Real hope we might lead the kind of lives that both of us wanted. Had wanted since we were children.

“I love you, Isabella,” he murmured. “I loved you the first moment I saw you. Will you stay? Can we make this a real marriage?”

“Yes Ian, of course I’ll stay. I will never leave you,” I whispered. “Never.  I tried so hard not to love you, but I couldn’t help myself. I even told myself you were not the kind of man I should marry. But my heart knew better. It always knew better. I love you so much.”

“You love me?” he asked, seemingly unable to believe it.

“You know I do,” I said, smiling.

Epilogue

Afterward Ian and I went to the study. Now that I knew the truth about Edna, I was concerned for her. We all knew she was relapsing into the same state that had sent her to a hospital before. She really was a fragile soul and I knew she would probably have to return to the sanitarium. But this time, if she had the capacity to understand, she would go knowing the truth, that James loved her and that he had nothing to do with Marguerite’s death.

Mrs. Fitzgerald took the news of her husband’s deception better than any of us expected. Perhaps she had known all along since she knew him better than anyone. I think she knew for years that he was not the kind of man to be faithful, but someone who felt entitled to have anything he wanted. He’d tried to instill that sense of entitlement to his sons, but failed. James had rebelled and married the girl he loved. Even his attempt to sweep Ian into an unwanted marriage failed.

Because, in the end, our marriage is real and so is our love for one another. I finally found someone I could trust and depend on. Someone who would care for me and would always want the best for me no matter what.

No, Ian Fitzgerald is nothing like his father. And he never will be.

The End

Author Bio

Leaving a career with the U.S. Forest Service in 1986, Clara Wimberly decided to pursue a lifetime dream of becoming a published writer.

Her first book, sold in 1989, was published by Zebra. Since then she has published a variety of work, from gothic to historical, mainstream and suspense . Several of her books have appeared on national best Seller lists and two placed in the Maggie Awards.

Her books have been published in Russia, China, the Philippines, Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Australia, New Zealand, Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands.

Ms. Wimberly is a member of Romance Writers of America.

She is the mother of three grown children and grandmother to two little girls. She loves American history and her hobbies include cooking, counted cross stitch, herb gardening, traveling, collecting old teapots, and, of course, reading.

Red Rose Publishing

Storm at Marshbay