Page 54 of If The Fates Allow
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.”
