Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

    
 
T
imothy
Elgerson stood beside the open fireplace in his immense study trying to make sense of Ben’s theories and the recent events in his life. Fighting exhaustion and feeling drained, he pulled out the bottle of fine brandy and sat it on the mantle. Deciding that the powerful liquor might help him sleep, but not bring him clarity, he set the bottle back on the tray and walked to the kitchen to survey the yard and take a look at the stables.

      If he were to agree with the sheriff’s speculations, much of what had gone on seemed to fall into place. Not all of it, but more than he was ready to accept. He had to admit to himself that there was always something about Dianna Weintraub that had left him uneasy around the woman, but he had continually attributed his feelings to the woman’s incessant pressure to convince him to have some attraction to Octavia.

      He often felt pity for the girl. Since childhood she had been an awkward, sloppy girl, never seen as attractive by anyone of the opposite sex. Dianna’s obsessive love of her daughter had driven her to push the girl into situations that only made Octavia open for further rejection and ridicule. Dianna wanted her to sing, and had invested heavily in lessons for the girl. She enrolled Octavia in charm schools and art lessons, and at one time arranged for the girl to travel overseas to study ballet.

      Octavia accepted her mother’s opinions without any of her own, remaining uninterested and untalented throughout the endless exposure to the best education. An uninspired child, Octavia went through life accepting her mother’s ambitions for her and never developing into the cultured beauty Dianna struggled to create.

      Over time, as the girl showed no promise of improvement and began to gain weight, it was as if Dianna began to panic and reasoned that, if she could only find Octavia a successful husband, the girl would be cared for. Dianna began shifting her ambitions from educating the girl, to pushing her into provocative necklines and attending social events throughout the territory. She introduced Octavia to every unmarried landowner, regardless of his age or appearance.

      After the death of Corissa, Octavia formed the one opinion she had developed on her own and decided that Timothy Elgerson was the man for her. Unable to deny the girl anything, and frantic to find her a suitable mate, Dianna became determined to give her daughter what she wanted.

      Had she become so obsessed that she would kill poor Finn and abduct a complete stranger, leaving her for dead? Timothy shuddered at the terrifying thought.

      All his reasoning brought him back to the same conclusion. Every event surrounding Rebecca’s kidnapping seemed to fall into place, with the exception of the slain chestnut and Finn’s murder. If Dianna had gone after Rebecca because of her daughter and if she had discovered he had ordered a bride, then he was responsible for what had happened to Rebecca.

      He reasoned that, by being too blind to see the ramifications, Dianna had become dangerous in her obsession and the woman he had sent for had become a target. Rebecca then was an innocent victim of mistaken identity, taken and abused, and nearly killed due to his carelessness.

      He stood staring into the night, realizing that he had brought Rebecca to Stavewood as well. Instead of sensibly sending her on to continue her travels, he had brought her here to unimaginable danger. He felt responsible for the girl. He had attacked her himself, believing she was a thief. He had considered that she had something to do with the robberies of the train. Then he had become enamored with her. He cursed himself for his selfishness. No wonder the girl was less than receptive to his advances.

      Timothy blamed himself for all of it. Every step of the way he never really considered Rebecca’s real situation.

      “Always the fool, eh?” he muttered to himself.

      Timothy Elgerson knew he had to tell Rebecca the truth.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

    
 
R
ebecca
listened for Timothy’s footsteps on the stairs, and, as the minutes ticked by and the sock took shape in her agile hands, she became more concerned.

      She wanted to have the opportunity to explain the situation to Timothy herself. If Timothy found out from Ben why she had come here he might not allow her to tell him from her point of view.

      “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she stated quietly to herself. “When he knows it won’t matter how he found out.”

      Emotional and anxious, she abruptly set her knitting aside and stood at the window to stare out into the blackness of the night. Seeing only her own tortured reflection she began to pace the room.

      She battled with how she might explain herself, should she have the opportunity. How would she justify the fact that she never admitted she was simply a fool who had answered a deceptive advertisement and traveled halfway around the world only to find a man who had no need for her?

      Instead of disclosing from the beginning why she had been on the train and accepting her situation, she had carried on a charade that only compounded her lie at every turn. If she had explained why she came, even to Mark when he found her, the boy probably knew about that man’s bet and would have told her long ago. If she had paid any attention to the train stops, the cryptic ad, had even heard the Elgerson name at some earlier time while with the man, if she had not been such a fool, she would not be here now.

      Now, she had taken so much from this man, and had never been forthright with him. She had accepted his home and his clothing, and most important his kindness. She had driven his son to the brink of death. She had even made love to the man. It was no excuse that he did not recall their night together because she did, and quite vividly. How could she imagine she had the right to love him when everything was a lie?

      If Timothy already knew he would certainly put her out, or worse, allow her to remain in her shame. The thought that he might be finding out who she really was at this moment was more than she could bear.

      Not caring that her nightgown and robe were not appropriate attire, Rebecca stumbled into the hall and sped down the main stairs.

      The study doors stood open, the room unoccupied. Rebecca froze. She took a deep breath and went to find Timothy to face her situation once and for all.

Chapter Forty

    
R
ebecca
walked through the kitchen door, finding Timothy racked with fatigue and staring out into the night.

      He was in no shape to be confronted by her, or, if he did not already know, to accept her explanations, but she knew her lie could not go on any longer.

      “Timothy,” she whispered timidly, her eyes brimming with tears. He did not turn and face her.

      She filled the teapot and searched the pantry for tea. When she had gathered her ingredients she set out two cups in anticipation to begin.

      “Rebecca, you should get some sleep.” His tone was distant.

      “I cannot sleep. Timothy I…” her words caught in her throat.

      “The search parties found Finn Morgan today.” The big man fought with his resolve, staring at nothing.

      “Then the sheriff spoke to him.” Rebecca was certain he knew.

      “The man was dead, Rebecca.” He turned and faced her.

      Rebecca exhaled and her hands flew to her face. Finn was dead! They all had to know, and now! It didn’t matter where he heard it, he had to know now.

      “Oh, Timothy, I am so terribly sorry.” Rebecca was beyond tears.

      “It’s not your fault, Rebecca. Please sit down.”

      “But it is. Oh, Timothy. I’m so sorry. The man was kind to me. You have been so kind. I’m so, so sorry what happened with Mark. It’s entirely my fault. I don’t even know how to explain, but I need to make you understand! If I’d never have come here none of this would have happened this way!”

      “Rebecca!” he cut her off firmly. “Listen to me, please. I know how all of it happened. I need you to listen to me now.” His voice was clear and unwavering.

      Rebecca braced herself against the table, trying to prepare herself for whatever he decided to do with her. She would not interrupt, she could not apologize. Whatever he had decided she would have to accept.

      “I suppose I should begin with this,” he pulled the ticket receipts from his shirt pocket and set them on the counter before her.

      Rebecca took a deep breath and studied the documents, going back and forth between the copies of the tickets, familiar to her, yet something was very wrong.

      After several moments she looked up in confusion. They were receipts of her travel tickets, but there were two. One set was duplicates of what she carried, but the other was first class. She had never received first class tickets. Was he trying to tell her that the joke of the gambling bet was intended somehow to be less cruel? That when the pranksters had originally set out their pretense they had purchased better tickets? It was plain now that Timothy knew she was a picture bride, that was evident, but why two sets of tickets?

      Rebecca stammered in shame and uncertainty. Did he want an explanation? Dare she ask why there were two sets? Her hands began to shake and she stared at him in fear and confusion.

      Elgerson began to pace, running his hands through his hair and trying to find the right words.

      He leaned across the high table and faced her squarely.

      “When Corissa died the world seemed to end, Rebecca.” He was addressing her in an intense, serious tone and Rebecca fought the overwhelming desire to run.

      “I could not face her death, but Mark fared even worse. The boy hardly ate. He cried constantly. I could find no way to appease him. She was his mother, and I was simply the man she had married.” Timothy leaned back slightly.

      Rebecca stood transfixed, knowing it was all her fault that the boy had become attached to her, and awaited her fate.

      “I tried to find a way, any way to care for him,” the exasperated man continued. “I decided that if he had a woman around, someone to take care of him, it might be better for him.” He began to pace back and forth in the room.

      Rebecca was lost. What was he saying? She stood completely still.

      “I arranged a mail order bride, Rebecca, for the boy. I thought I could help her out and find someone to care for him. Heaven knows that I was not able to do the job!”

      Rebecca was dumbfounded. He
had
sent for her, perhaps not for the reasons she imagined, but he had sent for her himself! Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

      “It’s my fault you were abducted, Rebecca!” he shouted, facing her. “They must have taken you from the train station because of your accent, thinking you were the woman I ordered. Dianna found out, I assume through Finn, that I had ordered a bride. In her attempt to intercept her, Dianna must have heard your voice somehow and decided you were the woman I had sent for and taken you. Don’t you see, Rebecca that everything that has happened is because of me?”

      “Timothy, no!” she screamed. “No! It’s not because of you! No!” Her face flushed with frustration and it all began to make sense.

      “Yes, Rebecca! Don’t you see? I set her up. I set you up with my fool plan to help the boy. It was me, Rebecca! I might as well have been the one who left you up there to die myself!” He rounded the corner of the table and stood face to face with her, trying to make her understand and knowing she might run before he could make himself clear.

      “Timothy, you are dead wrong!” She met him with equal demand.

      The big man stepped back and softened his tone. “I’m sorry Rebecca, please stay and hear me out.”

      “No Timothy! I have heard enough and now you have to listen to me!” Her heart pounded and her mind raced. She was not afraid any longer and she had to make him see that he was wrong.

      “Timothy there was no mistake on the woman’s part. You ordered a bride to help you take care of your son. You ordered her yourself and apparently bought expensive tickets for her travel? It was no joke? Not a mail ordered bride over a bet?” Rebecca held her breath.

      “A bet? What on earth are you talking about? Freid’s bride? That was something else entirely. I don’t gamble, Rebecca. I may be a fool but it was no bet. I ordered a bride. It’s as simple as that. I have admitted it and I’m sorry! It nearly cost you your life and I cannot change that, but trust me, that is exactly what I did!” His frustration with her unwillingness to accept the facts and his admission was draining his patience and he stared at her angrily.

      “I understand that!” she replied. “I believe you ordered a bride!”

      “Then what, Rebecca? Do you want me to reach back and change the past? Do you think I should beg for forgiveness? I don’t know what to do! I can’t make it up to you. I did it. I admit it. I ordered a bride and as a result I have trapped you here. I cannot change that.” He buried his face in his hands, his elbows on the table, in total frustration and humiliation.

      “Timothy,” Rebecca took a very deep breath and steadied herself against the table.  “I know you ordered a bride because it was me. I am R. Fagan.” Rebecca felt faint.

      He lifted his face from his hands and stared at her.

      “What?” he choked.

      “R. Fagan, Rebecca Fagan. I am the woman you ordered to care for your son. There was no mistake. I got the tickets. I answered the ad. I was on the train to St. Peter. I am the one who brought this all about.”

      “Rebecca, no. How is that possible?” Timothy studied her weary face.

      “Timothy,” the young woman sighed. “My husband was murdered. I had nothing and the servants had the missive with the ads. Your ad was so clear, so absent of empty promises. I was, I am destitute. I’m ashamed enough of the fact that I answered your ad, but I told no one. I never told Mark, and I did not tell you. As time went on I was more mortified. When Octavia pointed out that man, and his ‘picture bride’ at the party, I fainted.”

      Timothy Elgerson stared at the girl in shock.

      “You were so kind to me,” she swallowed hard. “Stavewood is so perfect, so beautiful. I couldn’t admit my shame to the sheriff or to you. I didn’t want anyone to know about me.

      “The day Octavia visited, you were away. She told me about the bet the man had lost, and the men who ordered him a wife. I was sure that was what had happened for me. For the life of me I never heard your full name. I never heard ‘Elgerson’ until Octavia said it that afternoon. When I realized it was you I became even more ashamed. I thought someone had sent for me as a joke and I couldn’t tell you. How could I? What would you think of me? She said that the women who answered those ads were not thought of as anything more than common prostitutes and I believed her.

      “Then Mark was lost, the horse was killed and now Finn is dead. All because I was too proud to say anything. This is not your fault, Timothy.”

      He studied her pale face and saw the pain in her deep, emerald eyes. He could not conceive of any reason she would even consider answering such an ad. Rebecca was unmistakably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was intelligent and refined and there was not a man alive with two eyes in his head that could miss that. He could not believe that she would ever imagine herself unable to find any number of men who would do anything she pleased.

      Why would she admit to answering his ad when it was so apparent to him she’d have no need for such a thing? Yet, everything she said fit the truth perfectly. In fact, it should have occurred to him before. If she had said something earlier, so many things would have gone differently. He understood her reasoning perfectly. He was embarrassed himself when he placed the ad, giving it all to Finn because he thought the man too simple to understand what it meant.

      Rebecca stood terrified, waiting for the man to respond to her admission, but he just stared at her strangely. If only he would say something. Even if he were to hit her as David would have done, it would be some reaction. She begged him silently to say or do anything at all.

      He continued to look at her, piecing everything together. He recalled every look, and all the times she had made no sense, and every time he had looked at her and tried to understand.

      It all made perfect sense. She had been telling him the truth. She had not invented some story to make him feel less responsible. If anything, the blame had become worse. Instead of a stranger, she was exactly the woman he had sent for and the danger remained the same. It had become so complicated and overwhelming he could not put together a response.

      Timothy sighed and walked heavily to the chair and slumped down, his head in his hands.

      “Oh, Rebecca,” he finally moaned.

     She turned to him and cried softly. “Timothy, I’m so sorry. I tried to bring myself to say something, but every time I refrained it got worse. And with each terrible turn it became more impossible to tell you. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I hoped that you would never know who I really was, what I really am. I kept hoping that, if you never found out what a desperate and shameless thing I had done answering the ad, believing after time it was only a joke, and thinking about what everyone here thought about picture brides, you’d accept me somehow. It made sense to me that it was a joke. I could never imagine anyone like you would order a bride. You are rich and handsome and so very dear.” Rebecca sat down before him.

      “You had Octavia,” she continued. “Why on earth would you possibly want me? Even that night we spent together…” Rebecca stopped short and Timothy looked up suddenly.

      “That night? The night I got so drunk?” The big man stood up, overturning the chair.

      Rebecca hid her face in her hands, too overwrought to have thought about what she was saying.

      He pulled her up and stood her upright to face him.

      “What happened that night, Rebecca?”

      She began to shake violently.

      “It wasn’t a dream! What happened, Rebecca?”

      “It doesn’t matter,” she cried, pulling from him. “I let it happen because of how I felt about you. I never meant to trick you into being with me, I didn’t. I just wanted you.”

      She fled to the stairs and he followed her close behind. As she turned to slam the door he burst in and demanded she describe what he had come to believe was only a dream.

      “I can’t,” she cried as he grabbed her arms and forced her to face him.

      “Rebecca, tell me! Did I force you that night? I have to know!”

      “Force me? No, you forced me to do nothing.”

      Timothy relaxed his grip.

      “Then, what?”

      “There was no pressure on your part,” Rebecca turned from him in complete embarrassment.

      He sat on the bed, as Rebecca closed the door quietly. “I thought it was all a dream. All day I thought about it, that it was the most incredible dream. But it was not a dream. You were in my bed that night, and here. It was here too, right here in this room.”

      “Yes,” she whispered. “Right here.”

      “But you never said anything.”

      “The next morning you were so angry, and you didn’t remember.” She sobbed quietly.