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Chapter Thirty-Two
Arabella waited in the parlor with her mother for an hour, giving her father some time to calm down. She then made her way upstairs, to her father’s study.
She knocked, nervously. There was a long pause before he answered.
“Come in,” he said.
She opened the door, peering inside. Her father stared back at her, from where he sat behind his desk. In front of him, there was a full glass of amber liquid.
“I’ve come to talk,” she said. “I think we’ve misunderstood each other.”
“I quite agree,” he replied. “Come and sit.”
She sat down in the armchair that she usually sat in. She had so many recollections of sitting there. In those times, she felt like an equal. A valued contributor to discussions. But those times seemed so distant from how she felt now, her father’s actions had caused her to question all of those times.
Her father reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a whole stack of letters, tied with a black ribbon. He passed them to her.
“I’ve been receiving these for the past year,” he said. “They are signed, Nemesis. He says that he will kill me, before the end of this winter.”
“Oh, Pappa,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. She pulled one letter from the stack, unfolding it. In a spidery script, was written the same message that had been scrawled across their wall, back at Tiverwell Manor.
“I have no intention of dying,” he assured her. “I have fortified the house, and have hired men to keep a watch at night. I do not stir without two armed footmen. This Nemesis, whomever it is, will never find an opportunity.”
“You see,” he went on. “That was all of the other’s mistakes. They went out, alone.”
She nodded. That made sense.
“However, this has brought something to my attention,” he continued. “Someday, I will die. When I do, I will not have you living in Bath with your mother. While this is suitable for a widow, it is not for a young lady of marriageable age.”
She raised her chin. He held up a hand to keep her from speaking.
“I know that you think that you are in love with Mr. Conolly. It is mere fancy, and all too soon will fade away to mere memory.”
“It won’t,” she assured him confidently.
“You see, my dear, you have revealed to me your one weakness.” He had steepled his fingers.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“If you do not agree to marry the Duke of Longmire, then I will arrange it so that Mr. Conolly has a devastating accident.”
“You cannot do that,” she said.
“I can. And I will, particularly since it’s for your own good,” he said, folding his hands.
“So that’s it,” she said. “You’re threatening to kill the man I love in order to control me?” Arabella couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“It’s all in the name of ensuring that you marry, and marry well. So, it’s all well and good.”
“I’ll tell the authorities,” she threatened.
“You think they’ll believe you? That I threatened my own barrister’s life? Don’t embarrass yourself. I know that you were in my secret office,” he said, folding his hands. “I’m curious, what is it that you believe you saw there?”
“I—I don’t know,” she admitted.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Good. You will marry the Duke of Longmire. There will be no more mention of Mr. Conolly.”
She stood up, leaving the room. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her life had always been controlled. But she hadn’t really noticed because she’d simply never gone against his wishes.
