[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North Read online

  ‘‘Nothing more?’’

  ‘‘Nothing more. This is obviously no love match. This is business—long, overdue business. You may have no understanding of such matters, but your father’s very existence teeters precariously on the edge of your actions.’’

  ‘‘My actions?’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ Martin Paxton replied. ‘‘No decent clergy will marry us unless you are willing, and no doubt your mother already has the church picked out. You will cooperate and willingly consent to this marriage or I will see your father destroyed.’’

  ‘‘But why?’’ Grace questioned, her own fear now replaced with concern for her father and mother. ‘‘How has he so offended you?’’

  This question actually caused Paxton to release her. Standing up, he eyed her with a look of pure contempt. ‘‘It is a matter between men.’’ He turned away from her as if contemplating further consideration.

  Grace felt too shaken to stand, but her instincts told her that if she was to escape without further harm, she would have to make her way now. Without a sound, she got to her feet and hurried for one of the closer entrances into the house used by the house staff when collecting flowers for dinner arrangements and such.

  She barely reached the door when Paxton seemed to realized her escape. She heard the heavy footsteps upon the garden path just as she closed the door behind her and slid the lock into place.

  Paxton began pounding on the wood, threatening to shake the very foundations of the house into rubble. ‘‘Let me in, you fool!’’ he declared in a voice hardly louder than a whisper.

  ‘‘Go back to the party,’’ Grace called. ‘‘Go back and give my regrets. Tell them I’ve grown ill and my governess has seen me to bed.’’

  ‘‘Open this door now!’’

  ‘‘No,’’ Grace said, knowing there would be a heavy price to pay for her defiance.

  3

  —[ CHAPTER THREE ]—

  ‘‘I CAN’T BELIEVE he did this,’’ Karen said angrily as she pressed ice against Grace’s swollen cheek. A reddish purple discoloration was already starting to mar the pale white skin.

  ‘‘I can’t believe it either. I honestly have no idea what is to be done.’’

  ‘‘Well, it’s obvious,’’ Karen replied. ‘‘You must break off this engagement and tell your father why it is impossible to go forward with marriage to such a monster. I’m certain that if he knew how you were treated, he’d never consent to see you wed to Mr. Paxton.’’

  Grace shook her head. ‘‘Mr. Paxton said he could ruin Father. Something has apparently happened between them, and Mr. Paxton has great power over Father.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps your mother would know what it’s all about.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know if she would or not. All I know is that I cannot marry this man, and yet there seems to be no other way to help Father in his need.’’

  ‘‘But, Grace, you don’t even know what that need is. Perhaps Paxton is doing nothing more than bullying you. He probably knows of your apprehension and maybe has even heard rumors of your disinterest in marrying him. He probably hoped to frighten you into the union.’’

  ‘‘Well, he did a good job.’’

  Just then Grace’s mother came into the room in a rush. ‘‘I heard that Grace was ill. Whatever is wrong?’’ She looked to Grace and then Karen. ‘‘Why has she an ice bag?’’

  Grace slowly removed the bag and could tell by her mother’s reaction that the cheek was no better.

  ‘‘Who did this?’’ Myrtle Hawkins demanded.

  ‘‘Mr. Paxton.’’ Grace’s words were flat and unemotional. She had no way of knowing what her mother’s reaction to the news might be. She hoped she might be sympathetic, but her parents were both acting very strange as of late.

  Her mother came forward and studied the damage more closely. ‘‘What happened to provoke this?’’

  ‘‘I slapped him for taking indecent liberties with me,’’ Grace replied. ‘‘He slapped me in return and told me that I was never to strike him again or question his actions.’’

  ‘‘The cad!’’ Her mother’s reaction was clearly one of disgust. ‘‘I shall speak to your father on this matter.’’

  Grace reached out and touched her mother’s hand. ‘‘Please, Mother, sit with me for a moment. I need to ask you something.’’

  The older woman seemed to understand the importance and nodded. ‘‘We have a house full of guests, you know. I can’t possibly stay long.’’

  ‘‘I understand,’’ Grace replied. ‘‘I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t of the utmost concern.’’

  ‘‘I’ll go,’’ Karen suggested.

  ‘‘No!’’ Grace declared. ‘‘I want you to stay. You know all about this, and we might very well need your thoughts on the matter.’’

  ‘‘Whatever are you talking about?’’ Myrtle questioned.

  ‘‘Mother, something is wrong. I can’t even pretend to know what it is, but Mr. Paxton apparently has some sort of control—some power over Father. I wondered if you knew what it might be.’’

  ‘‘Power over your father? Why, that’s nonsense. Frederick would never allow anyone to dictate his choices.’’

  ‘‘Mr. Paxton told me that should I be less than cooperative in giving myself to him, apparently with the benefits of marriage or without, that he would ruin our family and Father would suffer greatly.’’

  Myrtle stiffened. ‘‘He has no power to ruin the Hawkins family. How dare he imply such a thing merely to obtain liberties with you!’’

  ‘‘So there is nothing he can do to hurt Father?’’ Grace looked at her mother to ascertain her confidence in the matter. Unfortunately, the older woman looked away, but not before Grace detected uncertainty in her mother’s eyes.

  Grace took hold of her mother’s hand. ‘‘What is it?’’

  Karen watched in silence, but Myrtle seemed more than aware of her presence. She looked to Karen and then back to Grace, as if hoping someone might instruct her as to what to say.

  ‘‘Your father hasn’t been himself in weeks. I haven’t any idea what is wrong. He used to be quite willing to talk freely to me, but lately he refuses. He came home one day and announced that you were to marry Martin Paxton, and when I chided him for inappropriately suggesting such a thing without a period of courtship, he told me to keep such thoughts to myself. He told me you would marry Paxton and that was his final word.’’

  Grace shook her head. ‘‘Mr. Paxton must have some influence over Father that we are unaware of. But, Mother . . .’’ She paused and looked to Karen for reassurance. ‘‘Despite my love for you and Father, I cannot marry Mr. Paxton. He is much too cruel, and I will not suffer a husband who beats me.’’

  ‘‘Neither would I ask you to,’’ Myrtle said, her expression softening as she reached up to touch her daughter’s cheek. Tears came to her eyes. ‘‘No one has ever laid a hand to you before this. No one ever had to. You were always such a sweet child, good as gold and never a problem. That he should strike you so offends and wounds me that I must say something to him before the night is out.’’

  ‘‘Don’t,’’ Grace replied. ‘‘He might very well do the same to you.’’

  ‘‘Nonsense. He wouldn’t dare,’’ Myrtle said, raising her chin defiantly. She thrust her shoulders back and appeared to take on a new resolve. ‘‘I will speak to him and to your father as well.’’

  ‘‘Please, Mother, do not speak to Mr. Paxton on any of this. Talk to Father if you like, but leave it at that. Perhaps Father will finally relent and tell you what has happened. We should know the truth of that prior to making any other decisions.’’

  With the last of the party guests on their way home, Martin Paxton bid Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins good-night with the best of wishes on the speedy recovery of his fiance e’s health.

  ‘‘I hope Miss Hawkins will feel better in the morning,’’ he said rather smugly.

  ‘‘I’m certain she will,’’ Frederick repli
ed, then turning to the butler, he checked to make sure Mr. Paxton’s carriage had been brought around.

  Myrtle Hawkins could barely contain her emotions as she bid the man farewell. ‘‘Good night, Mr. Paxton.’’

  ‘‘If you’ll both excuse me,’’ Frederick interrupted, ‘‘my man tells me there is something that requires my immediate attention.’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ Paxton said with a slight nod.

  Myrtle waited for Paxton to leave, but instead he seemed to study her for a moment before speaking his mind. ‘‘Your husband knows very well what I expect, and now I believe your daughter knows as well.’’

  ‘‘How dare you?’’ she barely breathed the words. Gone was any hope of containing her anger. ‘‘That child has never been struck in her life until now.’’

  ‘‘She’d do well to learn quickly or she’ll find herself receiving worse,’’ Paxton said, eyes narrowing. ‘‘I tell you this and something more.’’ He paused to make certain he held her attention. ‘‘You would do well to heed your husband’s wishes and leave Grace to me.’’

  ‘‘You, sir, are out of line,’’ Myrtle replied. ‘‘I will not see my child married to a man such as yourself. I will not see her cruelly treated, beaten, and tormented.’’

  Martin’s expression suggested he held the upper hand. ‘‘Better beaten than on the street—or worse.’’

  Myrtle had no idea what the man meant by his words, but one thing she knew for certain. Her husband had some explaining to do. Slamming the door behind Paxton only to hear him laugh from the other side, Myrtle went in search of Frederick.

  Finding him just on his way up the stairs, she called out, ‘‘I would have a word with you, Mr. Hawkins.’’

  ‘‘It’s late. Must we talk now?’’ he questioned.

  ‘‘It is imperative,’’ she insisted.

  ‘‘Very well.’’ He led the way to his upstairs study and opened the door with his key. ‘‘Now, tell me what this is all about.’’

  Myrtle began without hesitation. ‘‘That brute has struck our child.’’

  ‘‘What? What brute?’’ Frederick asked in confusion.

  ‘‘Mr. Paxton.’’

  Her husband paled and took a seat behind his desk. ‘‘I’m sure you are mistaken.’’

  ‘‘I am not!’’ she declared. ‘‘Grace has the bruise on her face to prove it. He tried to force himself upon her, and when Grace defended her honor, he struck her.’’

  ‘‘Well, there you have it—just a lover’s quarrel. I’m sure it will right itself within a day or two.’’

  Myrtle could scarcely believe her husband’s tone. ‘‘I tell you this man took liberties with our daughter, struck her for defending herself, and you believe it will right itself in a day or two? How can you be so heartless and cruel? Surely you cannot want to move forward with Grace’s marriage to such a brutal man?’’

  Frederick Hawkins looked at her rather guiltily before turning his attention to the papers on his desk. He gave a pretense of shuffling the papers into order, but Myrtle knew he was simply doing this to avoid answering her question.

  ‘‘Well?’’ Myrtle pressed.

  He looked up. ‘‘The arrangements have been made. I’ve given my word.’’

  ‘‘Then take it back.’’

  ‘‘I cannot.’’

  She shook her head. ‘‘Why? Why can’t you dissolve the engagement?’’

  ‘‘Well . . . it is . . . it’s just that . . .’’ He stammered and stuttered, seeming desperate to find an answer that might explain his insistence. ‘‘I cannot.’’

  Myrtle folded her arms against her breast. ‘‘Frederick Hawkins, do you mean to sit there and lie to me? I am your wife. You have always discussed things of importance with me, yet two weeks ago you came home to announce that you were pledging our daughter in marriage to a complete stranger. Now that stranger turns out to be a monster, and you suggest it will right itself and that we should simply overlook the matter. I want to know what is going on! Why have you suddenly taken to cowering to Martin Paxton?’’

  Her husband’s expression turned angry. ‘‘I cower to no one, dear woman. I simply believe this to be more of a lover’s misunderstanding.’’

  ‘‘One which resulted in our sweet child hideously bruised,’’ Myrtle retorted. ‘‘Come see for yourself if you doubt my word.’’

  ‘‘I do not doubt your word, but apparently you doubt mine.’’

  Myrtle Hawkins sat down on the chair in front of her husband’s ornately carved desk. The desk had been a gift from her own father upon the celebration of their marriage. A matching, more feminine counterpart stood in her own private sitting room. It was there that she wrote her correspondence and instructions for the servants. She had addressed the invitations to Grace’s engagement party from that same desk. The party had seemed the right thing to do, in spite of her misgivings. Now she wished fervently that she might have fought harder to impose her own thoughts on her husband’s rash actions.

  ‘‘I do not doubt that you feel you must cooperate with this man’s wishes, but what I do not understand is why. Grace suggested that Mr. Paxton was threatening in regard to our well-being. The man himself spoke threateningly to me only moments ago.’’

  Frederick’s face reddened. ‘‘The scoundrel! How dare he talk of our business to my womenfolk?’’

  Myrtle realized her husband’s anger was motivated by some unnamed fear. ‘‘What has he to do with you, Frederick? What has happened? Please tell me.’’

  He looked at her with such a pained expression that for a moment Myrtle nearly took back her request. Perhaps there were some things a wife shouldn’t know in regard to her husband’s business arrangements.

  ‘‘I owe Paxton money,’’ he finally said with great resignation. ‘‘A great deal of money.’’

  Myrtle considered the words for a moment. ‘‘How? Why?’’

  He shrugged. ‘‘Bad business dealings. Paxton came along and bailed me out, but the price was Grace, along with repayment of the debt at an exorbitant interest rate.’’

  ‘‘But why Grace? Why should the man impose himself on a young woman he doesn’t even know?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know!’’ Frederick answered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘‘I just know that I cannot back out of the arrangement for Grace to marry Paxton.’’ He drew a deep breath. ‘‘This union will allow for us to continue in the fashion and society for which we’ve become accustomed.’’

  ‘‘But at the price of our daughter’s happiness?’’

  ‘‘Since when has that figured into our decisions?’’ Frederick asked his wife quite seriously. ‘‘You’ve had your heart set on being the social matron of Chicago. You’ve worked hard to position this family among the very cream of the crop.’’

  ‘‘With the intentions that our daughter might marry well, yes,’’ Myrtle said, beginning to feel a strange sensation of misgiving and guilt course through her heart.

  ‘‘Our daughter will marry very well. Paxton is worth a fortune. He may treat her with a heavy hand, but he has the money to give her whatever she desires. That is what counts, after all. I know it has always meant a great deal to you, and perhaps Grace will now understand why all those sacrifices have been made. Perhaps now is the time she make a few sacrifices of her own.’’

  Myrtle felt rather sickened by his suggestion. She didn’t like the woman he portrayed her to be. A money-hungry, social-climbing, coldhearted fish who put her position above her child. The realization overwhelmed her.

  ‘‘I see by your silence that you agree.’’

  ‘‘I do not!’’ Myrtle said, shaking her head. ‘‘What I agree with is that I have been mistaken. I have been cruel in my own fashion. I have worried over issues of society instead of working to draw our family closer. I have been a poor mother, indeed.’’

  ‘‘Nonsense. You have done your duty as I have done mine. There is no backing out now.’’

 
‘‘This is absurd. Of course you can back out.’’ She reached up to unfasten the multiple strands of pearls around her neck. The symbols of their wealth weighed heavy on her throat, almost as if a noose were tightening. ‘‘Start with these. We shall sell whatever we need to in order to pay back the debt, but Grace need not be a part of the bargain.’’

  ‘‘You pride yourself on your social standing in Chicago,’’ Frederick began. He sounded quite weary, as if the words themselves were exacting a great toll upon him. ‘‘Word would get around quickly. Our name would be ruined.’’

  ‘‘I don’t care,’’ Myrtle replied. For all her previous concerns about such things, she quickly realized that Grace’s safety and well-being were all that mattered. ‘‘Possessions are wonderful, charming creatures, but certainly no more so than the love of a child. Our daughter needs our protection.’’

  ‘‘I cannot give it,’’ Hawkins replied sadly. He hung his head. ‘‘We cannot go back on our word in this matter. You must understand.’’

  ‘‘I do not understand!’’ Myrtle said, getting to her feet. ‘‘Your child is in danger for her very life.’’

  ‘‘Now, Mrs. Hawkins, you know very well that many men are given to slapping their wives. Granted, I do not approve the practice, but perhaps in time—’’

  ‘‘I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing. I will not stand here and listen to another word. If you will not protect our child and speak to that brute, then I will.’’

  Frederick jumped up from his desk and crossed the room rather quickly. His portly frame did nothing to keep him from beating Myrtle to the door. ‘‘I forbid it! Do not put yourself in the position of going against my wishes. You cannot speak to Paxton on this matter. Do you understand me? If you care one whit for our own vows, you must agree to obey me in this one thing.’’

  Myrtle felt floored by his appeal. Nodding her agreement seemed her only recourse. She reached out to touch her husband’s face.