Page 102 of To Wed an Heiress
“You are looking well,” he said.
“As are you.”
“Have you decided to become a scullery maid, Mercy?” He pointed to her apron.
“Not a scullery maid, Father. A cook, perhaps. I’ve become quite proficient at scones.”
He frowned at her, but didn’t say anything.
For a moment they just watched each other. She hadn’t lied to him. He did look well, almost relaxed. Perhaps the ocean voyage had been the respite he needed. He always looked relaxed when they came back from their country home, but those breaks from work never lasted long.
“How is Mother?” she asked, knowing that she was opening a Pandora’s box.
He didn’t disappoint. “Heartbroken.”
She nodded, half expecting that comment.
If this had been her home, she would have offered him some refreshments, but because it wasn’t, she simply remained seated.
Whenever she’d been called to his library as a girl, guilty of some infraction or another, their meetings had been exactly like this. He doled out words like they were gold pieces, at least until he warmed to the subject. Any moment now he would let loose with a volley of accusations. She folded her hands together, waiting.
She had just as much patience as her father. Perhaps more, in this case, because she’d had some time to anticipate this meeting.
“Do you know how much we feared for you?” he finally asked.
She leaned back in the chair, her hands on the carved arms, her fingers curling around the lion’s paws.
“I have always known how much you feared for me.”
He frowned at her again. “What does that mean?”
“No one has ever been as protected, guarded, and wrapped in bunting as I have been, Father. I couldn’t play with the neighbor’s child because there were rumors of a disease sweeping through the city and she might be contagious. I couldn’t go to the park because it might be cold in the afternoon. I could never play in the snow because I might get a chill. No one has ever been visited by so many physicians or examined by so many specialists. I had two nurses instead of one. As I grew I still had a nurse along with a governess. And then I had guards. I was accompanied by two people whenever I went anywhere and even my destinations were limited. I was twenty-eight years old and treated as if I was three. So, yes, I have always known how much you feared for me.”
She hadn’t meant for her tone to sound bitter but as she spoke, all the emotion that had been trapped for years flowed out of her.
“And so you ran away.”
“Yes. I ran away. And I would do it again. I’m not an animal in a zoo, Father. Neither am I a hothouse flower.”
“You don’t understand, Mercy.”
She sat up straight, her gaze never veering from his face. “I understand perfectly. Next you will tell me that it’s because of your wealth that I was always so protected. Otherwise, I was in danger. If that doesn’t work, you’ll gently remind me of all those poor dead babies whose names I bear. If I’m still not suitably chastised, you’ll bring up Jimmy. I understand perfectly. Which one will it be now, Father?”
To his credit, he looked taken aback. “All we wanted was for you to be safe.”
“All I wanted was to live a life that wasn’t constantly constrained.”
“And you thought you had to come to Scotland for that?”
She looked away, her attention focused on the elaborate fireplace surround. “I wanted a taste of freedom. I wanted to be unguarded for a little while.”
When he didn’t speak, she leaned forward, wondering if there was a way to get her father to understand.
“These weeks in Scotland have been magic for me,” she said. “For the first time in my life I’m not James Rutherford’s daughter or Jimmy’s sister or my mother’s sole normal child. I’m simply Mercy. People don’t care that I’m an heiress. My money is seen as a detriment, not an asset. I’ve been free as I never expected to be. I’m judged as Mercy. Who am I? What can I do? What do I want? I’ve had to answer all those questions for myself.”
“What about Gregory? What about the wedding?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care about Gregory. Or the wedding. I’m not going to marry him. I would just be exchanging one set of prison bars for another.”
