TOTSS:
"So Far Away"
by Beckers
***Chapter Seven***
With her third deep, despondent sigh of the evening, Isabelle slowly ate the small red apple she held loosely in her left hand and rounded the enclosure. She eyed the new livestock. Five horses, including an African barbie, and in another corral twenty head of prime cattle. The horseflesh was particularly beautiful. All were healthy, broken and eager to serve their new masters. She continued to watch as, one by one, the horses were pulled from the corral and taken inside the barn to be shown their new lodgings. In a day or two each would be imprinted with the Wilke Ranch brand.
Poignant but also proud, Isabelle watched as Captain was pulled from the hold. She smiled mildly. Tim would grow to love his horse. Captain had a way about him that could draw in a timid youth, given time and the right incentive, and Isabelle saw the boy brighten ever so slightly when Captain was won. Miranda, on the other hand, was not at all pleased about losing her intended, Dante. However, when the pinto was presented, it's soft nose nuzzling the child's pink cheek - as if attempting to get to know its new owner - Miranda giggled. The girl eventually, bright-eyed and smiling, walked with Isabelle to their coach and she told her governess she was going to name the horse Parsifal, from a book she once read.
Isabelle merely smiled. No one in the Wilke household was aware of her true heartbreak. She hid it well. Dante had been a blow, of course, but at least she knew he would be treated well. On the other hand, the appearance of David Grief …
With a last bite of her apple, Isabelle tossed its core to the side of the corral, and rubbed somewhat sticky fingers against her black jodhpurs.
"David Alan Grief, I could just kill you." she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward, her head pressed firmly against the top wooden plank of the enclosure. What did he think he was doing, coming here to Australia and spying on her? He said he wanted her to come back with him but could give no sound reason why she should do such an impractical thing. Did he think by just asking she would do it? Did Grief consider her that insipid and hopeless? Was he delusional?
Yes they had been together, exchanging the most intimate and physically overwhelming thing a man and woman could do with one another, during an incredibly beautiful night alone in the South Seas. It would live on in her heart and mind forever. Nonetheless, that *should* have been the end of it. They … *She* needed to move on. Grief was acting on gut instinct again and that would truly be the death of him one day, Isabelle thought. 'But I will not be responsible.' she swore. "You go your way and I'll go mine." she quietly demanded of the persistent picture she had envisioned of the good captain, on the Rattler, the wind sweeping through his sun tinge hair. Yet, the moment the powerful, self-reliant words left her mouth - when that image of Grief appeared in her mind - Isabelle could not prevent a sob. This was just madness. "Why am I so torn up inside?" It wasn't as if she had never been with a man before.
'Because he came for you … he went out of his way for you … he loves you …' NO. Oh dear God, could it be true? Captain Grief, the knight with a damsel in every port? 'And you love him.'
"I love him." The sentence rolled off her tongue and Isabelle's breath quickened once again. She had never been in love before and the revelation was difficult.
During the first few months she had arrived in Matavai, when she was trying to get her business going, Miss Reed ended her days - filled with both physical fatigue and mental strain - in Lavinia's bar. One evening Isabelle recalled Lavinia talking to Clare about she and David's relationship. It was a private conversation between the two women and Lavinia never suspected Isabelle, who had been groggily nursing a drink at the bar, was listening in. Lavinia told the young, wide-eyed English girl how she and Captain Grief found time to be both lovers and friends, finding pleasure in one another and with others. There were times when David had to be gone weeks at a time and Lavinia knew he wasn't being a saint. He found satisfaction, she was sure, with any number of beautiful women, from near and afar. Lavinia had also mentioned that *she* hadn't been exclusive either. Nights in Matavai could be quite lonely. That was the beauty of she and David's bond, Lavinia had said. It was open yet exclusive at the same time. They loved each other and one day they would settle but, for now, there were just too many adventures, which also included handsome men and beautiful women, to be had.
Isabelle could half laugh about it now. It had been a paltry justification. Lavinia was trying to convince herself that all was well in their world. And, if what she said were true, if David often found pleasure in the arms and beds of other women, then why did he reject Isabelle every time she attempted to seduce him? And why, Isabelle suddenly wondered, had Lavinia been so openly jealous when she suspected he had slept with the newcomer? Did she somehow construe that Captain Grief's feelings for the accused murderess reached down further than a casual affair? Did she think, even way back then, that there could be more between Isabelle Reed and David Grief than what met the eye? Something that might perhaps exclude her?
When it came down to it, as intelligent as she was, maybe Lavinia didn't know Captain Grief as well as she thought she did. And maybe … just maybe … David had been telling the truth when he said Lavinia was in his past -- and it was never really in the stars for them to remain together.
Isabelle straightened. 'Perhaps *I* don't know David Grief as well as I thought I did.' she considered with a bewildered groan. "I love him." she whispered, "And I need to tell him."
When the last of the horses had been pulled from the corral to be stalled, Isabelle - deep in thought ('I need to find him. How am I going to find him?') - started back to the ranch house. They had eaten supper hours ago and she promised to read a bedtime story to Miranda when she returned. 'Yes.' Isabelle recalled the girl's request, 'Something about a princess and her horse.'
Halfway between the barn and house Isabelle thought she heard a crunching noise, as if someone with big boots had stepped on a brittle twig. "Angus?" She turned about and called to the new foreman. Lord Wilke had promoted him earlier in the day, once O'Finney made his exit. "Is that you?" Isabelle saw no one, the man and his workers still busy in the barn with the horses, and this made her nervous. She was sure she heard something but the day had been so hectic and emotional ... Perhaps her mind really wasn't where it should be.
With a frustrated growl, Isabelle swiveled about once again to return to the house. She was suddenly staggered when a rough hand clamped over her mouth and her head was wrenched backward. The woman looked up into severe and faintly deranged brown eyes and felt an intense fear grip her, as well as powerful arms. Isabelle recognized him and would have cried out if she could.
"It is bad enough those brats will inherit all that should be mine but I *will not* have any bastard child of yours become heir to my wealth as well!" John O'Finney snarled and heaved Isabelle, with the help of two other men she did not know, to an out-building.
Isabelle fought as best she could, managing to throw one of the men from her and soundly punching the face of another. However, in the end, she hadn't a chance. The last thing Isabelle heard before a black hood covered her face and she was rendered unconscious was the men discussing the best way for "the woman" to meet her end.
***
The following morning, two gentlemen were greeted cordially when they announced themselves at the seasonal home of Lord and Lady Wilke. The mistress of the house, up early for church services, was preparing to go in for breakfast when the men, at the front door, announced to a servant that they were friends of Isabelle Reed. Lady Wilke, excusing her servant, invited the visitors in and told them Miss Reed would be to breakfast shortly. "Please, sit and talk with me a few minutes." she encouraged.
Both men were handsome, Lady Wilke noted as her maid, Lahiea, poured each a cup of coffee. However, it was Captain Grief that held her attention. This *had* to be the man Isabelle spoke of in the carriage. She was almost certain of it although the children's governess had never given her details about the lover she let get away. "Would you like something to eat?" Lady Wilke asked, politely.
"Thank you, no." Mauriri said, "We hate to be curt but we're here because we think Isabelle, perhaps your entire family, could be in danger."
Startled, Lady Wilke placed both hands on the white lace table cloth and stared at her visitors, "Danger? What makes you think that?"
"Mauriri spoke with a man during the auction yesterday …" Grief began.
"You were there?" Lady Wilke asked, astonished.
"Yes, I spoke with Isabelle."
"She never said a word."
Grief nodded. 'She has her reasons,' he reflected silently. "This man told Mauriri that a John O'Finney had been released by the Wilke's ranch yesterday morning and he had been heard in a local waterfront tavern making threats against your family …"
"I'm not surprised." Lord Wilke entered the dining area, wearing an impressive blue suit, and spoke in a firm, resonating voice. He reached out a hand and shook with both Mauriri and Grief, "I'm afraid John O'Finney was stealing from me, gentelmen. He'd been with the ranch for over two years and he thought he could pull a fast one on me. Thanks to Miss Reed, who overheard a conversation he was having with his partner in crime, we caught him red-handed. His associate, an Ian Brewer, confirmed it."
"But there is more, Lord Wilke. O'Finney has said …." Mauriri unexpectedly looked uncomfortable in the presence of Lady Wilke and hesitated.
"I have no secrets from my wife." Wilke stated as he realized where the wavering, however delicate it might be, was directed. "Say it, sir. I insist."
Grief looked from Mauriri to Lord Wilke, "O'Finney has stated that he is your son from a previous marriage. Apparently that marriage was annulled but when it was found you had a son he was quickly taken to an orphanage, never to be heard from again, until he approached you two years ago and told you his story."
"Ridiculous!" Lord Wilke exclaimed, "Gentlemen, I *was* married when very young," He touched the shoulder of Lady Wilke who looked up at her husband. "but I'm afraid my wife died within a year of our marriage. She *was* a lovely Irish girl but she was also very ill and could not have children. After she passed the marriage was annulled, as you say, but there had never been children."
Mauriri's confusion was genuine, "O'Finney sincerely believes you are his father and that he is entitled to a part, if not all, of your fortune."
"He was always a strange man." Lady Wilke whispered, appearing nervous. "But he was also very convincing."
Lord Wilke looked down at his wife as a thought gradually occurred to him, "Josephine, now that I think about it, you were actually the person who presented John to me. You told me he had good references and he appeared a reliable man. You suggested him as our cattle and land foreman."
Lady Wilke could feel the eyes of the men on her and she sighed, "Two years ago when we came here on our annual winter trip, John O'Finney came to me while you were making arrangements for our luggage. I was standing at the docks with the children and Mrs. Corrigan, their governess." Lady Wilke stood and picked up her napkin. She watched as their guests also stood. "Mr. O'Finney called to me and pulled me aside." She looked directly at Lord Wilke as she spoke, "He told me the same story, how he was your son but had been spurned. I felt sorry for him …"
"You believed him?" Lord Wilke appeared appalled.
"He seemed so bloody sincere and, well dear, we were not getting on very well at that time. Do you remember?"
Wilke reluctantly nodded.
"He seemed to truly believe what he said and you never really told me too much of your background before we were married. I knew you were a widower but every time I tried to talk with you about your first wife and life, you never wanted to go into it. You closed yourself off to me." Guilt marred both faces as she continued. "Later, I realized it was because her death had been so painful and personal. But I often wondered, if your father hadn't agreed to bring you back into the family, to give you your inheritance, would you ever have had the marriage annulled? And if there had been children, a child not born of blue blood, could you have given him up because of potential wealth?" Lady Wilke stared at her husband, deeply sorry. "I just wasn't sure -- and that's why I made introductions. I thought if he could work with us awhile, if you two could talk, maybe an understanding could be reached …" she shook her head slightly, "But after awhile it came to me that John O'Finney couldn't possibly be your son and I was regretful … but he still seemed like a good worker so I never said anything more about it."
"Excuse me," Grief interrupted, "What finally convinced you that O'Finney wasn't your husband's son?"
"I did some research on my own and discovered the family that left him at the orphanage as a baby had six other children and simply could not afford another mouth to feed. It was as simple as that but Mr. O'Finney could not accept this information when I presented it to him. So, I let it go."
"It was probably shortly after that he started to steal from you, Lord Wilke." Mauriri commented.
"I'm sorry, darling." Lady Wilke touched her husbands collar, "I should have told you but he appeared a good foreman and I didn't want to cause either of you further heartache."
Lord Wilke digested the revelation. "John was a hard worker and young friend to me for awhile, I admit it, and I could almost picture him as a son, born to me all those years ago, but he just wasn't. I was very sorry I had to let him go." Lord Wilke nodded, patted his spouse's hand, then turned his attention back to the men. "But you say there may be danger?" he asked.
"Apparently O'Finney remains misguided," Grief stated, "Because he's still convinced he should inherit and the person we got this information from said he's willing to do anything, including murder, to get what he thinks is his."
"And what has us concerned, " Mauriri added, "is that he mentioned Isabelle by name as the first on his list to be dealt with. He blames her for his dismissal."
"Oh, my goodness!" Lady Wilke gasped, "Henry we better warn her …"
"Mama," Miranda Wilke, with a rustle of yellow Sunday silk, walked into the dining area and appeared distressed, "Is Miss Isabelle all right?" she asked.
Lady Wilke left the men for a moment to comfort the child, "I'm sure she will be fine, dear. Whatever you heard here …"
"I didn't hear anything." the child said, her eyes wide and honest. "But she never came to my room last night to tuck me in and read me a story. She promised."
Mauriri and Grief, having heard what Miranda said, looked at one another and quickly made their way out of the Wilke home.
***
"You'll never get away with this!" Isabelle warned, sitting in the flat-back of the rocking wagon, her hands and feet bound, being gently jostled from side to side. The hood had been removed, because he said he loved to look into her gorgeous eyes, and she now stared directly at O'Finney who was sitting opposite of her, letting his men drive the team. "Someone will come for me. You have no idea how much trouble you're in!"
"By the time they start searching you will be long gone, darlin'."
"You're going to kill me?" Isabelle asked, a slight catch in her throat despite a stern expression.
"I thought of it." He lifted a bottle and drank deeply, then: "But a better idea came to me last night. He looked up to where the wagon driver sat, "Benny there is acquainted with a group of fine blokes, men he owes money, who are a wee bit incorrigible."
Isabelle noted how O'Finney's Irish accent grew thicker the more he drank.
"They are business men who are willing to pay a fine price, or dismiss a debt, if the right woman were to be brought to their attention."
"Prostitution?" Isabelle could feel her heart thudding in her chest, "You can't … not if I won't …."
"Oh no, love. Nothing as vulgar as that." He lifted a hand and touched Isabelle's knee, noting how she instantly moved, as if she thought him diseased. "You will be draped in fine silks and satins from all over the world. You will be given jewelry and more if chosen as a bride … in time."
"White slavery?" Isabelle breathed heavily outward. She had heard of such things but never thought to be a participant. "But that would still require my willingness to …"
"Not necessarily. The people you will be sold to have ways of making young women, those who misbehave, *compliant*." he sneered, enjoying her torment. "Just accept it, Miss Reed, and you will be far better off than if you had to be … disciplined."
"You filthy animal." she hissed.
O'Finney laughed and drank once again from his bottle. He loved her spirit and if Isabelle hadn't of caused so many problems with her meddling he might have enjoyed seducing her. Ah, but could he ever be certain such a devious female was falling for his charms? After all, Miss Reed was already a woman of dubious virtue -- Wilke's tart. She and her kind were hard and calculating and knew far more than they ever let on about men and how to manipulate them. 'She will do well in a harem.' he thought. O'Finney hoped whoever bought Isabelle would be cruel, using the lash often, teaching her a well deserved lesson.
Isabelle looked away from her captor and closed her eyes. 'Oh David,' she silently prayed, 'if you are out there and able to hear my thoughts, please come for me -- and know I'm sorry for running away. I *do* love you …"
****
((This story is becoming quite an epic but, no fear! Another reunion coming in Chapter 8 AND the conclusion IS drawing very close! *Thank you for all your fine, kind and helpful comments - Beckers*))
"So Far Away"
by Beckers
***Chapter Seven***
With her third deep, despondent sigh of the evening, Isabelle slowly ate the small red apple she held loosely in her left hand and rounded the enclosure. She eyed the new livestock. Five horses, including an African barbie, and in another corral twenty head of prime cattle. The horseflesh was particularly beautiful. All were healthy, broken and eager to serve their new masters. She continued to watch as, one by one, the horses were pulled from the corral and taken inside the barn to be shown their new lodgings. In a day or two each would be imprinted with the Wilke Ranch brand.
Poignant but also proud, Isabelle watched as Captain was pulled from the hold. She smiled mildly. Tim would grow to love his horse. Captain had a way about him that could draw in a timid youth, given time and the right incentive, and Isabelle saw the boy brighten ever so slightly when Captain was won. Miranda, on the other hand, was not at all pleased about losing her intended, Dante. However, when the pinto was presented, it's soft nose nuzzling the child's pink cheek - as if attempting to get to know its new owner - Miranda giggled. The girl eventually, bright-eyed and smiling, walked with Isabelle to their coach and she told her governess she was going to name the horse Parsifal, from a book she once read.
Isabelle merely smiled. No one in the Wilke household was aware of her true heartbreak. She hid it well. Dante had been a blow, of course, but at least she knew he would be treated well. On the other hand, the appearance of David Grief …
With a last bite of her apple, Isabelle tossed its core to the side of the corral, and rubbed somewhat sticky fingers against her black jodhpurs.
"David Alan Grief, I could just kill you." she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward, her head pressed firmly against the top wooden plank of the enclosure. What did he think he was doing, coming here to Australia and spying on her? He said he wanted her to come back with him but could give no sound reason why she should do such an impractical thing. Did he think by just asking she would do it? Did Grief consider her that insipid and hopeless? Was he delusional?
Yes they had been together, exchanging the most intimate and physically overwhelming thing a man and woman could do with one another, during an incredibly beautiful night alone in the South Seas. It would live on in her heart and mind forever. Nonetheless, that *should* have been the end of it. They … *She* needed to move on. Grief was acting on gut instinct again and that would truly be the death of him one day, Isabelle thought. 'But I will not be responsible.' she swore. "You go your way and I'll go mine." she quietly demanded of the persistent picture she had envisioned of the good captain, on the Rattler, the wind sweeping through his sun tinge hair. Yet, the moment the powerful, self-reliant words left her mouth - when that image of Grief appeared in her mind - Isabelle could not prevent a sob. This was just madness. "Why am I so torn up inside?" It wasn't as if she had never been with a man before.
'Because he came for you … he went out of his way for you … he loves you …' NO. Oh dear God, could it be true? Captain Grief, the knight with a damsel in every port? 'And you love him.'
"I love him." The sentence rolled off her tongue and Isabelle's breath quickened once again. She had never been in love before and the revelation was difficult.
During the first few months she had arrived in Matavai, when she was trying to get her business going, Miss Reed ended her days - filled with both physical fatigue and mental strain - in Lavinia's bar. One evening Isabelle recalled Lavinia talking to Clare about she and David's relationship. It was a private conversation between the two women and Lavinia never suspected Isabelle, who had been groggily nursing a drink at the bar, was listening in. Lavinia told the young, wide-eyed English girl how she and Captain Grief found time to be both lovers and friends, finding pleasure in one another and with others. There were times when David had to be gone weeks at a time and Lavinia knew he wasn't being a saint. He found satisfaction, she was sure, with any number of beautiful women, from near and afar. Lavinia had also mentioned that *she* hadn't been exclusive either. Nights in Matavai could be quite lonely. That was the beauty of she and David's bond, Lavinia had said. It was open yet exclusive at the same time. They loved each other and one day they would settle but, for now, there were just too many adventures, which also included handsome men and beautiful women, to be had.
Isabelle could half laugh about it now. It had been a paltry justification. Lavinia was trying to convince herself that all was well in their world. And, if what she said were true, if David often found pleasure in the arms and beds of other women, then why did he reject Isabelle every time she attempted to seduce him? And why, Isabelle suddenly wondered, had Lavinia been so openly jealous when she suspected he had slept with the newcomer? Did she somehow construe that Captain Grief's feelings for the accused murderess reached down further than a casual affair? Did she think, even way back then, that there could be more between Isabelle Reed and David Grief than what met the eye? Something that might perhaps exclude her?
When it came down to it, as intelligent as she was, maybe Lavinia didn't know Captain Grief as well as she thought she did. And maybe … just maybe … David had been telling the truth when he said Lavinia was in his past -- and it was never really in the stars for them to remain together.
Isabelle straightened. 'Perhaps *I* don't know David Grief as well as I thought I did.' she considered with a bewildered groan. "I love him." she whispered, "And I need to tell him."
When the last of the horses had been pulled from the corral to be stalled, Isabelle - deep in thought ('I need to find him. How am I going to find him?') - started back to the ranch house. They had eaten supper hours ago and she promised to read a bedtime story to Miranda when she returned. 'Yes.' Isabelle recalled the girl's request, 'Something about a princess and her horse.'
Halfway between the barn and house Isabelle thought she heard a crunching noise, as if someone with big boots had stepped on a brittle twig. "Angus?" She turned about and called to the new foreman. Lord Wilke had promoted him earlier in the day, once O'Finney made his exit. "Is that you?" Isabelle saw no one, the man and his workers still busy in the barn with the horses, and this made her nervous. She was sure she heard something but the day had been so hectic and emotional ... Perhaps her mind really wasn't where it should be.
With a frustrated growl, Isabelle swiveled about once again to return to the house. She was suddenly staggered when a rough hand clamped over her mouth and her head was wrenched backward. The woman looked up into severe and faintly deranged brown eyes and felt an intense fear grip her, as well as powerful arms. Isabelle recognized him and would have cried out if she could.
"It is bad enough those brats will inherit all that should be mine but I *will not* have any bastard child of yours become heir to my wealth as well!" John O'Finney snarled and heaved Isabelle, with the help of two other men she did not know, to an out-building.
Isabelle fought as best she could, managing to throw one of the men from her and soundly punching the face of another. However, in the end, she hadn't a chance. The last thing Isabelle heard before a black hood covered her face and she was rendered unconscious was the men discussing the best way for "the woman" to meet her end.
***
The following morning, two gentlemen were greeted cordially when they announced themselves at the seasonal home of Lord and Lady Wilke. The mistress of the house, up early for church services, was preparing to go in for breakfast when the men, at the front door, announced to a servant that they were friends of Isabelle Reed. Lady Wilke, excusing her servant, invited the visitors in and told them Miss Reed would be to breakfast shortly. "Please, sit and talk with me a few minutes." she encouraged.
Both men were handsome, Lady Wilke noted as her maid, Lahiea, poured each a cup of coffee. However, it was Captain Grief that held her attention. This *had* to be the man Isabelle spoke of in the carriage. She was almost certain of it although the children's governess had never given her details about the lover she let get away. "Would you like something to eat?" Lady Wilke asked, politely.
"Thank you, no." Mauriri said, "We hate to be curt but we're here because we think Isabelle, perhaps your entire family, could be in danger."
Startled, Lady Wilke placed both hands on the white lace table cloth and stared at her visitors, "Danger? What makes you think that?"
"Mauriri spoke with a man during the auction yesterday …" Grief began.
"You were there?" Lady Wilke asked, astonished.
"Yes, I spoke with Isabelle."
"She never said a word."
Grief nodded. 'She has her reasons,' he reflected silently. "This man told Mauriri that a John O'Finney had been released by the Wilke's ranch yesterday morning and he had been heard in a local waterfront tavern making threats against your family …"
"I'm not surprised." Lord Wilke entered the dining area, wearing an impressive blue suit, and spoke in a firm, resonating voice. He reached out a hand and shook with both Mauriri and Grief, "I'm afraid John O'Finney was stealing from me, gentelmen. He'd been with the ranch for over two years and he thought he could pull a fast one on me. Thanks to Miss Reed, who overheard a conversation he was having with his partner in crime, we caught him red-handed. His associate, an Ian Brewer, confirmed it."
"But there is more, Lord Wilke. O'Finney has said …." Mauriri unexpectedly looked uncomfortable in the presence of Lady Wilke and hesitated.
"I have no secrets from my wife." Wilke stated as he realized where the wavering, however delicate it might be, was directed. "Say it, sir. I insist."
Grief looked from Mauriri to Lord Wilke, "O'Finney has stated that he is your son from a previous marriage. Apparently that marriage was annulled but when it was found you had a son he was quickly taken to an orphanage, never to be heard from again, until he approached you two years ago and told you his story."
"Ridiculous!" Lord Wilke exclaimed, "Gentlemen, I *was* married when very young," He touched the shoulder of Lady Wilke who looked up at her husband. "but I'm afraid my wife died within a year of our marriage. She *was* a lovely Irish girl but she was also very ill and could not have children. After she passed the marriage was annulled, as you say, but there had never been children."
Mauriri's confusion was genuine, "O'Finney sincerely believes you are his father and that he is entitled to a part, if not all, of your fortune."
"He was always a strange man." Lady Wilke whispered, appearing nervous. "But he was also very convincing."
Lord Wilke looked down at his wife as a thought gradually occurred to him, "Josephine, now that I think about it, you were actually the person who presented John to me. You told me he had good references and he appeared a reliable man. You suggested him as our cattle and land foreman."
Lady Wilke could feel the eyes of the men on her and she sighed, "Two years ago when we came here on our annual winter trip, John O'Finney came to me while you were making arrangements for our luggage. I was standing at the docks with the children and Mrs. Corrigan, their governess." Lady Wilke stood and picked up her napkin. She watched as their guests also stood. "Mr. O'Finney called to me and pulled me aside." She looked directly at Lord Wilke as she spoke, "He told me the same story, how he was your son but had been spurned. I felt sorry for him …"
"You believed him?" Lord Wilke appeared appalled.
"He seemed so bloody sincere and, well dear, we were not getting on very well at that time. Do you remember?"
Wilke reluctantly nodded.
"He seemed to truly believe what he said and you never really told me too much of your background before we were married. I knew you were a widower but every time I tried to talk with you about your first wife and life, you never wanted to go into it. You closed yourself off to me." Guilt marred both faces as she continued. "Later, I realized it was because her death had been so painful and personal. But I often wondered, if your father hadn't agreed to bring you back into the family, to give you your inheritance, would you ever have had the marriage annulled? And if there had been children, a child not born of blue blood, could you have given him up because of potential wealth?" Lady Wilke stared at her husband, deeply sorry. "I just wasn't sure -- and that's why I made introductions. I thought if he could work with us awhile, if you two could talk, maybe an understanding could be reached …" she shook her head slightly, "But after awhile it came to me that John O'Finney couldn't possibly be your son and I was regretful … but he still seemed like a good worker so I never said anything more about it."
"Excuse me," Grief interrupted, "What finally convinced you that O'Finney wasn't your husband's son?"
"I did some research on my own and discovered the family that left him at the orphanage as a baby had six other children and simply could not afford another mouth to feed. It was as simple as that but Mr. O'Finney could not accept this information when I presented it to him. So, I let it go."
"It was probably shortly after that he started to steal from you, Lord Wilke." Mauriri commented.
"I'm sorry, darling." Lady Wilke touched her husbands collar, "I should have told you but he appeared a good foreman and I didn't want to cause either of you further heartache."
Lord Wilke digested the revelation. "John was a hard worker and young friend to me for awhile, I admit it, and I could almost picture him as a son, born to me all those years ago, but he just wasn't. I was very sorry I had to let him go." Lord Wilke nodded, patted his spouse's hand, then turned his attention back to the men. "But you say there may be danger?" he asked.
"Apparently O'Finney remains misguided," Grief stated, "Because he's still convinced he should inherit and the person we got this information from said he's willing to do anything, including murder, to get what he thinks is his."
"And what has us concerned, " Mauriri added, "is that he mentioned Isabelle by name as the first on his list to be dealt with. He blames her for his dismissal."
"Oh, my goodness!" Lady Wilke gasped, "Henry we better warn her …"
"Mama," Miranda Wilke, with a rustle of yellow Sunday silk, walked into the dining area and appeared distressed, "Is Miss Isabelle all right?" she asked.
Lady Wilke left the men for a moment to comfort the child, "I'm sure she will be fine, dear. Whatever you heard here …"
"I didn't hear anything." the child said, her eyes wide and honest. "But she never came to my room last night to tuck me in and read me a story. She promised."
Mauriri and Grief, having heard what Miranda said, looked at one another and quickly made their way out of the Wilke home.
***
"You'll never get away with this!" Isabelle warned, sitting in the flat-back of the rocking wagon, her hands and feet bound, being gently jostled from side to side. The hood had been removed, because he said he loved to look into her gorgeous eyes, and she now stared directly at O'Finney who was sitting opposite of her, letting his men drive the team. "Someone will come for me. You have no idea how much trouble you're in!"
"By the time they start searching you will be long gone, darlin'."
"You're going to kill me?" Isabelle asked, a slight catch in her throat despite a stern expression.
"I thought of it." He lifted a bottle and drank deeply, then: "But a better idea came to me last night. He looked up to where the wagon driver sat, "Benny there is acquainted with a group of fine blokes, men he owes money, who are a wee bit incorrigible."
Isabelle noted how O'Finney's Irish accent grew thicker the more he drank.
"They are business men who are willing to pay a fine price, or dismiss a debt, if the right woman were to be brought to their attention."
"Prostitution?" Isabelle could feel her heart thudding in her chest, "You can't … not if I won't …."
"Oh no, love. Nothing as vulgar as that." He lifted a hand and touched Isabelle's knee, noting how she instantly moved, as if she thought him diseased. "You will be draped in fine silks and satins from all over the world. You will be given jewelry and more if chosen as a bride … in time."
"White slavery?" Isabelle breathed heavily outward. She had heard of such things but never thought to be a participant. "But that would still require my willingness to …"
"Not necessarily. The people you will be sold to have ways of making young women, those who misbehave, *compliant*." he sneered, enjoying her torment. "Just accept it, Miss Reed, and you will be far better off than if you had to be … disciplined."
"You filthy animal." she hissed.
O'Finney laughed and drank once again from his bottle. He loved her spirit and if Isabelle hadn't of caused so many problems with her meddling he might have enjoyed seducing her. Ah, but could he ever be certain such a devious female was falling for his charms? After all, Miss Reed was already a woman of dubious virtue -- Wilke's tart. She and her kind were hard and calculating and knew far more than they ever let on about men and how to manipulate them. 'She will do well in a harem.' he thought. O'Finney hoped whoever bought Isabelle would be cruel, using the lash often, teaching her a well deserved lesson.
Isabelle looked away from her captor and closed her eyes. 'Oh David,' she silently prayed, 'if you are out there and able to hear my thoughts, please come for me -- and know I'm sorry for running away. I *do* love you …"
****
((This story is becoming quite an epic but, no fear! Another reunion coming in Chapter 8 AND the conclusion IS drawing very close! *Thank you for all your fine, kind and helpful comments - Beckers*))