Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
“
We’ll discuss it later, Patty,” Trader Donavon interrupted firmly.
The woman rolled her eyes. She smiled sweetly and returned her attention to Fallon. As she tenderly caressed the girl’s forehead with a lavender-scented hand, she whispered, “You’ll be fine now, dear. Try to rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything at all. Now, close your eyes, and get some rest.” The woman’s gentle caress and soothing voice instantly lulled a fatigued Fallon back to sleep.
Fallon slept deeply. She awoke lazily, the delectable scent of frying bacon and eggs greeting her senses. She smiled, thinking she must still be sleeping and only enjoying her dreams. It had been months and months since she had breathed such a delightful aroma.
“
Good morning!” Patty happily chirped as she entered the room. Fallon smiled at the maternal-looking woman who stood at the foot of her bed. She held a tray heaping with food. “Smells good enough to eat, doesn’t it?” Patty sighed, smiling. She walked to the side of the bed and set the tray on a tiny table. “Now, first things first. Let’s get some food into that starving little body of yours. You look like a cat that hasn’t been fed in a month,” Patty chattered.
Fallon struggled to sit up, but her body was indeed weak with hunger and exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” she apologized as Patty helped her to a sitting position. “I guess it’s just been so long since I rested deeply.”
“
Whatever are you apologizing for?” Patty asked. “Now, let’s get you fed.”
Fallon struggled to raise a spoon to her mouth. She was so weak that her hand trembled uncontrollably as she raised it to take the food. “I don’t think I can,” she whispered.
“
Well, of course not! You are weaker than…anyway, I’ll feed you myself,” Patty said, smiling as she brushed the hair from Fallon’s forehead.
The first bite of bacon was unlike anything Fallon had known. Never had food tasted so good.
Instantly Patty began to chatter. “My, my, my. That little Trader. I never know what he’s going to be up to next!”
“
Little Trader?” Fallon asked.
Patty laughed. “Trader! I’ve known him for simply years. I’ve always called him ‘little Trader’ and saw no reason to change just because he got a might taller.”
Fallon took another bite as it was offered to her.
“
How do you feel? Better?” Patty asked.
“
Yes. I think I do,” Fallon answered.
“
Well, after breakfast I’ll help you get freshened up, and maybe we can find you a nice book to read or something. You need to stay in bed I think, though. But let’s at least change your nightdress. This one has been on you for almost two days.”
Fallon looked down to find herself dressed in a lovely cotton nightdress. “Thank you so much! But how did you ever manage to get me into it all by yourself?” she asked.
“
I didn’t. I had help,” Patty answered, nonchalantly. Then she became very serious. “Trader was terribly angry when he saw those marks on your back, sweetheart,” she said slowly.
Fallon’s mind went whirling. “What do you mean?” she asked in a horrified whisper—though knew well what Patty was referring to.
Patty drew in a breath and then continued. “Those enormous bruises on your back. Trader helped me dress you, but he kept his eyes closed the entire time until I told him to look at those bruises! See, I couldn’t dress you by myself, and you and me, we’re about like picking up a rag doll to Trader. Anyway, he kept his eyes away until I saw those bruises.”
Fallon looked away, suddenly ashamed. She wasn’t sure whether it was the bruising that embarrassed her or the fact that Trader Donavon had assisted in dressing her. She looked back at Patty when she spoke again.
“
Pumpkin, don’t be shy. We’re friends now. Doc Smithers says those bruises were caused from some very hard blows. Was it that…was it your uncle?”
Fallon nodded, and tears fled from her eyes as she remembered what had happened. “He drinks every minute, ma’am,” she whispered. “And he gets angry at the slightest thing. I’m fine…really.”
Patty smiled and patted Fallon’s cheek with a napkin to dry the tears. “Well, you’re all right now. Let’s finish up and get you dressed. And you call me Patty instead of ma’am, all right?”
After breakfast, Patty helped Fallon wash and change clothes. Fallon was discouraged by her weakened state. Patty even had to comb her hair for her. She could not understand what was wrong with her. After so many months of being uncomfortable, underfed, and overworked, why did her strength choose to abandon her now? Did it simply understand it could give in? Did it understand it could find rest and weakness?
Patty left the room once Fallon was comfortable, but her solitude was short-lived, for Trader Donavon entered almost immediately. Fallon was embarrassed at the thought of his having seen her without clothes and found it hard to look directly at him. Even had she felt confident, it was difficult to talk to someone who had no visible face.
Where do I focus my attention
?
Fallon thought.
“
How is it that you came to be with that degenerate, Miss Ashby?” the great edifice of a man abruptly asked. He towered at the foot of her bed like an ominous dark cloud.
“
My…my father died over a year ago,” Fallon stammered in an effort to answer. “Then…then my mother became very ill, and she felt she was unable to provide for me. Uncle Charles had been my father’s favorite brother in their youth. My mother thought he would be…he would be…different,” she finished. She felt nervous, trembled within.
“
I see,” he said. “Needless to say, Miss Ashby, I am not at all concerned about your uncle’s threats. But I cannot abide seeing children mistreated—any innocent mistreated for that matter.”
“
I’m not a child, Mr. Donavon,” Fallon stated. She then wondered to herself why she had become so defensive.
“
What is your age then?” he asked.
“
I’ll be eighteen in two months, sir,” she replied.
“
Then you are seventeen, Miss Ashby.”
“
Yes, sir,” she muttered, blushing. Obviously in his eyes seventeen was still the age of those termed children.
“
Forgive my error, Miss Ashby. Now would it be possible for you to return to your mother? Surely she is recovered by now.”
Fallon raised her eyes defiantly as she responded, “She is consumptive, sir, and confined to a sanatorium.”
“
I see.” He strode toward her and stood beside the bed. Fallon felt irritated at having to look up so far and then only to see into the darkness of a hood. “It seems to me you have two choices, Miss Ashby. You can trade one monster for another and marry me, or I will give you the money to return to wherever your mother is and set up your own home. Perhaps you could start a small business with which to support yourself.”
Fallon was stunned. “You would marry me? I thought you said my uncle’s threats meant nothing to you.”
“
They don’t. But your uncle is still your legal guardian. He will, no doubt, insist that I marry you—especially now. I can’t have my tenants and the people in town thinking me a rogue as well as a monster. It’s rather humorous, isn’t it? Thinking of Trader Donavon, the hideous beast, taking part in a shotgun wedding.” Fallon heard a low chuckle originate from somewhere within the dark depths of the hood, and she wondered if Trader Donavon donned a smile within the dark confines of his garb.
“
But why would you give me money to go to my mother? For no reason? You don’t owe me anything,” she reminded him.
“
I haven’t done a good deed in quite some while. It’s time I did. I can’t imagine anyone having to live with a monster like me. But a monster like your uncle is out of the question. That leaves my helping you to escape.”
Fallon was intrigued and also surprised to find her heart beating rapidly. “But why then would you offer to marry me? Surely not only to avoid a scandal.”
He folded his massive arms across his broad chest. “For the same reason—a good deed. Here you would have anything you need or want—social position, free time—but it would have to be in name only if you marry me. Make no mistake, you would be my wife and run my household…but you would be sacrificing motherhood. Children would not be possible in a marriage arranged as this one would be.”
“
Why?” Fallon asked, surprising even herself at such a boldly uttered inquiry. “Is it because you do not wish to have a family? Or rather, because you are unable to…”
Trader Donavon appeared to move uncomfortably beneath his cloak. The intonation of his voice sounded almost awkward as he cleared his throat and answered, “I am perfectly capable of…of helping to conceive children, Miss Ashby. But I have no wish to have such a relationship as would be necessary, in my opinion, to conceive and raise them.”
Fallon’s heart felt like it might leap from her chest. She could never—no, never—tell him she had dreamed of him for months. Still, the truth of it was she was unaccountably and inexplicably in love with the monstrous Trader Donavon. She had been for some time. Whether she was in love with his dark image or whether she sensed something beneath it, she did not know, but she knew, with the choice placed before her, what her choice would be.
“
I choose to marry you, Mr. Donavon.” Fallon watched as his arms dropped to his sides in surprise.
“
What?” he breathed, astonished.
“
I choose the marriage, Mr. Donavon.”
He was silent for a moment. She sensed he was regaining his composure. She knew he had never suspected she might choose to marry him.
“
Very well, Miss Ashby. You’ve made your decision. However, I want this to be said: a wealthy, horrible, beast of a husband will never be a substitute for a perhaps impoverished, handsome man who would have been your lover as well.”
Fallon blushed at his remark but added, “My name is Fallon, sir.”
“
And mine is Trader.” He turned to leave the room but paused at the door, adding, “Will you be well enough in three days to take marriage vows with me?”
“
Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“
Then remember
you
have made this decision.” He closed the door behind him as he left.
Fallon shook her head in wonderment at her own daring. Could it be? Would the dark and mysterious Trader Donavon really wed the orphaned and plain Fallon Ashby?
The snow had stopped. Three days had passed, and Fallon studied herself in the mirror as Patty looped the seemingly endless row of pearl buttons down the back of the dress. She fancied she looked rosy-cheeked, fresh, and pretty—such a contrast to what she had appeared only a few days before. Closing her eyes, Fallon offered a silent prayer, thankful for her deliverance from her uncle’s clutches and into a life of—for all appearances—hopeful security.
“
You are the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, Fallon,” the elder woman remarked with a sigh. Patty and Fallon had become fast friends in the past few days, and Fallon was flattered. “I love the color of your hair, like spun maple.”
“
Patty, are the bruises gone?” Fallon asked.
“
Almost, honey. A few more days. But don’t worry…Trader won’t notice them. As lovely as you are, I’ve no doubt that tonight in your wedding bed—”
“
Patty,” Fallon interrupted, blushing to the tips of her toes. “I thought Trader explained to you that—”
“
He explained everything to me. At least the words came out of his mouth, but I’m sure his thoughts are more likely lingering on—”
“
Patty, please,” Fallon said. A great disappointment washed over her, a discontent she knew she must learn to overcome and ignore. “The circumstances aren’t anything next to ordinary, so let’s not pretend they are,” Fallon reminded, as she pushed a lock of hair into place.
“
Oh, all right then,” Patty whined. “I guess I’ll just be overjoyed Trader’s getting married at last, no matter what. He always swore not to.”
“Thank you, Patty,” Fallon said, again ignoring the sudden unsettlement in her bosom.
“
There!” Patty exclaimed, smiling into the mirror. “It isn’t the fancy dress you probably always dreamed of, but it was pretty when I wore it, no matter its simplicity.”
Fallon smiled. “Believe me, Patty, I tell you with all my heart it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn.”
Fallon heard the organ begin to play Mendelssohn’s familiar composition. She was instantly sickened with anxiety. What if Trader truly resented her? After all, he had referred to their marriage as “a good deed.” Would she really be able to find happiness in simply being married to him, unable all the while to receive his love and affections? It frightened her. Yet she knew that to have him—belong to him—would be enough. It must be enough, and it would be.
“
Oh! Come on, honey. It’s time. I’m so nervous!” Patty chattered as she smoothed her hair upward into place.
Fallon looked at her and laughed. As the doors opened into the chapel, Fallon’s knees nearly buckled. “Patty!” she whispered. “There are so many people here. Why are there so many people? I can’t possibly walk past all those people!”
Patty patted Fallon’s cheek tenderly and quietly said, “Trader Donavon, the mysterious hermit, is finally marrying. Folks were astonished to hear of it, and most of them work for him anyway. In one way or another, they are here to pay their respects. Just look straight ahead, and don’t fret.”