The Hungry Heart Fulfilled (The Hunger of the Heart Series Book 3) (9 page)

 

 

Just then, a
cheerful voice from
across the street interrupted his reverie, as Adrian waved to
him, and asked,
“Would you like to come with me to the slum over on Water
Street? Possible
cases of cholera. I could
really use your help filing a report, and locating the source,
old man.”

 

 

“Yes, of course,
Adrian. Let me get
my things, and tell them where I’m going,” Dalton replied
quickly, as he
slipped the note into his pocket, and eagerly ran to get his
medical bag.

 

 

Late that evening,
Dalton had
finally helped Adrian locate the source of the cholera
infection, and had then
exhaustedly gone home and had a hot bath and something to eat.

 

 

It was only as he
had fished in his
pocket to consult his time-piece that Dalton had remembered
the two odd
messages, and unfolded them carefully and laid them out on the
table.

 

 

The bill for the
provisioning of the
Pegasus
was only
mildly peculiar, except that Dalton wondered why it was for so
small an amount. He
folded it up with some papers from
his wallet, and resolved to see Amos Chandler about it first
thing in the
morning.

 

 

But the note from
the Bishop had him
completely dumbfounded, for he recalled it was the final page
of one of the
last letters he had written to his father from Ireland, and
had been penned to
accompany a gold and sapphire engagement ring he had purchased
for Emer. How on
earth had it come into the
Bishop’s possession?

 

 

Dalton went
downstairs and tapped on
his father’s study door.  Once inside, he confronted Frederick
with the slip of
paper and asked, “But how do you suppose he got it?”

 

 

“I have no idea,”
Frederick grumbled
uneasily.

 

 

“But you told me
you went to look
for Emer in August, to take her into the house with her family
to protect her
as you had promised, and there found out she was dead. I wrote this
letter
in October, so it
would have arrived in about November or even December. The Bishop
first
met Emer in
November. So I
ask you again,
Father, when did you go to Grosse Ile to look for Emer and her
family?” Dalton
demanded.

 

 

“Just what are you
accusing me of,
son?” Frederick shot back angrily.

 

 

“Nothing yet, but I
want the
truth. Did you
ever meet with
Emer?”

 

 

Frederick sat in
stony silence.

 

 

Dalton threw up his
hands in exasperation,
and began to pace up and down in front of his father's desk.

 

 

“You did. You must
have. You told me
she had red hair, though you claimed she had died by the time
you got to Grosse
Ile. And I would
stake my life on
it that she recognized you in the cathedral that day. So why
are you both lying
to me?"

 

 

When his father
remained stubbornly
silent, he began to puzzle it out for himself. "Ever since
I’ve come home,
people have been lying to me, covering things up. Emer looks at me
like a watchful,
wounded animal, and
doesn’t want anything to do with me. Now I find this letter in the
possession of the bishop. Where is the ring I
sent to accompany
it? Does Emer
have it?”

 

 

“No, of course not. I, well, the girl
was dead, after all,
so I gave it to Madeleine Lyndon as a token of your esteem.”

 

 

Dalton's eyes
rounded. “You had no
right! And
that’s another thing,
you keeping that absurd engagement open all this time despite
the fact that I
told you in August and again in November that I had no
intention of ever
marrying Madeleine Lyndon!”

 

 

“But you have to
marry her now. In
less than forty-eight hours you're
due to walk down the aisle with her!” Frederick insisted.

 

 

Dalton shook his
head. “But I don’t
love or esteem her, Father. Beside Emer, Madeleine pales into
insignificance.
You should have seen the two of them at the Hearsts the other
night. Madeleine
showed her true colors, and is not a woman I could ever admire
or esteem. Nor
did anyone else compared with Emer."

 

 

"That jumped up
little hussy
could obviously charm the birds from the trees. But I thought
you were smarter
than that!"

 

 

"I'm sorry, Father,
but Emer is
none of those things, and I will thank you not to speak
disrespectfully of the
woman I love."

 

 

"But Madeleine is
worth ten of
her—"

 

 

"Only on your
balance sheet,
Father, but certainly not on mine!"

 

 

Frederick slammed
his fist down on
the desk so loudly even the windows rattled. "I can't believe
you would
throw away all we've ever worked for—"

 

 

"It's not just
because of Emer,
Father, it's my medical career as well. I know this has been your
fondest wish for some time, a
merger between
ourselves and the Lyndons, but I can’t go through with it, no
matter how much
you try to persuade me otherwise. And I certainly have no intention
of marrying her when
there is the
slightest hope that Emer will forgive me for what she seems to
think I’ve done
to her. Now I
want the truth, and
I want it now. Have
you ever seen
Emer before?” Dalton demanded.

 

 

Frederick could see
the game was up.
He decided that perhaps telling the truth to his son for once
might gain him
what he had sought to win through lies and deception.

 

 

“All right, yes,
yes I did! In
November, when I thought you were
coming home. She
was writing all
sorts of wild letters to you, pestering us for money. I
thought she was going
to try to blackmail us over your past with her, so I went to
see her.

 

 

"She asked for
money, and I
gave it her under the promise that she would never see you
again. She
agreed, took the banker's draft,
and that was the end of it.
I told
you she was dead to protect you, son. I thought it was better you
think of her as an honest
young woman
instead of the grasping harlot she really was,” Frederick said
in this most
wheedling tone.

 

 

Dalton slapped his
palm down on the
deck dismissively. “You’re lying. I don’t believe a word of it. Emer
would never have taken the money,
never
! She loved me, and
you destroyed her trust in me. This note. You used it to convince
her that I wanted her paid off, didn’t
you? How much did you give her?” Dalton exclaimed.

 

 

“She demanded
fifteen thousand
pounds.”

 

 

“Indeed. Demanded,
eh? And how much
of it was your own money, and how much mine?” Dalton said with
a glare.

 

 

Frederick looked
the floor.

 

 

Dalton continued,
“Because now that
I think about it, the bank manager Mr. Simpson told me that
money had been
taken out of my account in early November, a sum I couldn’t
account for. You
used the rubber stamp with my
signature on it to present her with a cheque which seemed as
though it were me
paying her off! How
could you!”

 

 

“But son, I was
only trying to
protect you! You’re
too blind to
see what she really is!” Frederick argued heatedly.

 

 

"No, you’re the one
who’s
blind!" Dalton fired back, his anger rising with every word. He
paced up and
down in front of his father's
desk, growing more agitated with every passing minute as the
reality of what
his father had done sank in.

 

 

"You let Emer and
her family
rot in that hell hole for months. She was trying to help the sick,
alone with six
children to look after
as well, and hardly a penny to her name. When she didn’t
conveniently die of fever, you paid her
off in my to
make sure she stayed away from me, and told me she was dead. Have
you any idea
what I went through
when I thought I’d lost her!” Dalton demanded, shaking with
fury. 

 

 

“Well, I'll tell
you. I stood in my
room with a razor in my hand, Father. A razor, for pity's
sake. I was one
second away from cutting my own throat, I was so devastated by
the thought of
having lost her forever. I trusted you, and this is how you’ve
repaid me!”

 

 

Frederick looked
aghast at Dalton's
confession of his near-suicide, but wasn't prepared to back
down. “No, I'm
telling you, she asked for the
money! She accepted it willingly! That’s why she wants nothing to do
with you. She is greedy and evil, and you mustn’t
believe her lies
about me, or about Grosse Ile.
She
is just looking to get your sympathy, you fool. She’s probably spent
all the money and
come looking for
more! That’s why
she gave you the
note!” Frederick lied desperately.

 

 

Dalton smiled
thinly and shook his
head. “But
that's where you're
wrong. Emer
didn’t give the letter
to me, nor this strange bill from Amos Chandler for a few
days' worth of food
and water, when thirty ships were supposed to be victualled
while we were
waiting for the quarantine to lift while we were all rotting
aboard ship under
the summer sun with scarcely a drop to eat or drink. That was
you again,
Father, wasn't it?"

 

 

His father's
expression proclaimed
him guilty on that charge as well.

 

 

"So you see,
Father, all your
lies have come home to roost, and I'm appalled at all you've
done to harm the
woman I love and her friends and family."

 

 

"You would take
that slut's
word against your own father?" he growled, trying to look
wounded.

 

 

Dalton shook his
head, and for a
moment, Frederick sighed in relief, thinking he had won after
all.

 

 

Then Dalton said,
"Emer never,
ever said one word to refute your story. She’s done nothing but try
to keep her end of the
bargain, to never see
me again, by chasing me away at every opportunity."

 

 

"The better to try
to reel you
further in—"

 

 

Dalton folded his
ams in front of
his chest, and looked so grim that his father's defense
trailed away into
silence.

 

 

"The Bishop gave me
the note,
and thank God he did. Emer
must
have been in despair when you treated her so cruelly. Without
his help she
would have died. Emer didn’t expose you for the liar you are
because she loves
me too much! But
your own words
and actions have condemned you.

 

 

“And before you
call her greedy and
grasping, just stop to think for a minute. If she had married me,
she would have
had a half share of
everything I own! If
she was so
greedy, then she would have married me straight away on the
ship when we had a
chance to, not allowed herself to be fobbed off for only a few
thousand
pounds. 

 

 

"If she did take
the money, it
was because she was desperate, not because she was mercenary. And we
can see what
she did with the
money, can't we? She hasn't run off to live in the lap of
luxury. No, she's
shown her true colors, for she has taken your blood money and
set up an
orphanage to help even more people."

 

 

Frederick's brows
knit, but he was
determined to find fault with her no matter what. "Aye, and
orphanage, to
better to lure more people into parting with their cash. Or
better still, it's
a front for a house of ill repute, with underaged girls all—"

 

 

"Your mind is like
a cesspool,
and I will not listen to another word against the woman I
love, do you hear
me?" Dalton barked.

 

 

Frederick lapsed
into glowering
silence.

 

 

"So here's what
we're going to
do, Father. I am going to see Emer now to clear up all these
misunderstandings,
and you're coming with me.
I want
the truth from both of you, and God help you if you've done
all I suspect you
have,” Dalton growled.

 

 

“We can’t go now.
Look how late it
is! It can wait
until morning,”
Frederick protested.

 

 

“No, it can’t,”
Dalton
insisted. “It
can’t wait another
minute. I
already nearly lost Emer
once because of you. 
I’m not
going to rest in my bed until she knows the truth, and comes
home with me here
as my intended bride.”

 

 

“If you wish to
marry her, then you
are no son of mine. I’ll
disown
you,” Frederick threatened, turning purple.

 

 

Dalton snorted in
contempt. “I never
wanted your money, Father, I only ever wanted your love. But this
proves to
me how little you
care about me, and that you're incapable of such a deep,
abiding, pure emotion.

 

 

"So mark my words,
Father, if
you don’t come with me now, in addition to publicly breaking
off my engagement
to Madeleine, I
shall also tell
the good people of Quebec exactly what you’ve done to that
poor girl."

 

 

"You
wouldn't dare—"

 

 

He gave his father
a look that
quelled him at
once. "For
Emer's love, I would dare anything. Get your cloak, we’re
leaving now,” Dalton
ordered, and went to tell the stable manager to prepare their
carriage.

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE