Understanding Mercy Page 15

  “Why?” She fired back. “You owe me no explanations.”

  “I know I don’t. But I want to clear the air. When I see you in the future, I don’t want to feel uncomfortable around you.”

  “The only reason you would feel uncomfortable is because you know the words I spoke are true. You are a scoundrel.”

  “I will not argue with you, Miss Creed. I’ve never claimed to be a saint.”

  “Saint? Ha! It’s just like you trying to seduce a grieving widow.”

  Letting out a humorless laugh, he replied bitingly, “If any seduction was happening, it was on her part, not mine, I assure you. But I suppose as a gentleman, I shouldn’t say that.”

  “You are no gentleman.”

  “I won’t argue with you there, but why are you so angry with me? Why do you care what I do?”

  “I’m not angry.” She seethed while she squirmed, but he held her firm.

  “You are angry.”

  “No, I’m not.” She ceased struggling as her large green eyes swam with tears.

  Suddenly everything became clear to him. Softening his voice, he said, “Yes. You are angry, and now I know why.”

  She took his bait. “Why?”

  He tried to fight the smile tugging on his lips. “You are jealous.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise and embarrassment. She stamped her foot. “I’m not jealous.”

  “Yes, you are.” He rubbed his hands across her shoulders and stepped even closer before whispering, “You wish it was you I was kissing instead of the countess. I know I wish it was you I was kissing. I admit it. I want you to admit it.”

  “Why of all the nerve!” Her whole body shook with the intensity of her emotions. “You arrogant, pompous man.” He grinned at her, which infuriated her more. She fumed, “I have no desire to kiss you.”

  “That isn’t true. You might not want to want me to kiss you, but you do.”

  Covering her face with her hands, she moaned, “Go away.”

  He grabbed her hands and brought them to her side, holding them. “I think what you say and what you feel are two different things. I believe you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

  “If you are attracted to me, why did you kiss the Countess last night?”

  “She kissed me and I let her because it felt good to be desired by someone after your brutal rejection.”

  “My rejection was not brutal.”

  “It was to me.”

  Compassion softened her expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “But you did.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes as she slowly shook her head. “I’m not the one for you, Mr. Berkeley.”

  He heard her words, but it didn’t match what he saw in her eyes. Slowly, he bent and kissed away a few tears on her cheek, then brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “I think you are the one for me.”

  She trembled against him. He felt her melting, but then she let out a little moan of anguish and shook her head. “No. No. I’m sorry. I’m not the one for you,” she repeated with as much authority as her shaky voice would allow.

  He kissed her cheek and then spoke against her skin, “Why are you pushing me away like this?”

  “Because…because you terrify me.”

  Letting out a chuckle, he pulled back and held her face in his hands. “Mercy, when you get to know me better, you will find out I’m not that scary.”

  She shook her head. “You should choose the Countess. You are better suited to her than me.”

  “I beg to differ.” With a laugh he added, “She terrifies me .”

  When he saw a slight smile on her trembling lips, he knew he was making headway. “Mercy, don’t say you don’t have feelings for me, because I won’t believe you. I know what we have is not all one-sided. But if you can honestly tell me right now that you feel nothing for me, I will leave and never speak to you like this again.”

  He could see her inner turmoil. With a ragged sigh, she lowered her forehead against his shoulder and began to cry. He’d never held a weeping woman in his arms before and had no idea what to do.

  Finally, she spoke amid sobs, “I’m so confused.”

  Her words pricked at his pride. What was so confusing?

  She continued to cry, and he spoke into her hair. “Mercy, I won’t push you. Take your time and work out your confusion. Let me know if you want me, and I’ll ask your father if I can court you properly.”

  Both of them jumped when a harsh voice called out, “Mercy, where are you?”

  Mercy looked up at him in panic and Addison covered her lips with his finger. He then held onto her shoulder to steady her. If someone found them now, this would not look good.

  The strident voice came closer. “Mercy. I know you are out here.”

  Addison could see the dread wash over her as the color drained from her face.

  “Mercy, I’m not leaving until I talk to you. Don’t hide from me.”

  Addison stood as still as a statue and held his breath, but it did no good. Cordelia suddenly stood before them. A dark, malevolent look filled her eyes.

  “I should’ve known. Somehow I’m not surprised to find you in the arms of a scoundrel.”

  Her face white and arms trembling, Mercy managed, “What is it, Cordelia? What do you need?”

  She waved a book in her hand like a weapon. “Do you know what this is?”

  “The novel Pamela by Samuel Richardson?”

  “Yes. I found it with Daisy and you cannot deny you gave it to her. This book has your name in it. I also figured out it was you who taught her to read. How dare you!”

  Cordelia’s fury grew like a bonfire. “Teaching a slave to read is against the law. I think I will prosecute you, and you will have to pay a one hundred dollar fine. We all know you cannot afford it. Your father just had to sell his coach and horses. He also just offered to sell your beloved pianoforte to Mr. Brown. Do you know what happens to people who break the law, teach a slave to read and cannot pay the fine? Do you know?”

  Addison stood frozen in absolute shock.

  But Mercy calmly asked, “Why do you care if Daisy knows how to read? It doesn’t hurt you.”

  “You had no right,” she screamed as the veins popped out of her neck. “She’s my slave! My slave! You’ll pay for this. I’ll make you pay!” The girl was hysterical and lifted her hand ready to strike Mercy.

  Addison quickly grabbed her wrist, halting her. “What on earth is wrong with you, Miss Turner? So the girl knows how to read. Calm down.”

  She glared at him, a wild look in her eyes. “How dare you touch me? You will pay. You will both pay for this.” Tears streamed her face and she ran away.

  Addison shook his head in bewilderment. All these emotional ladies . He didn’t know what to say. Mercy lifted her wet lashes to meet his gaze and his stomach twisted in knots. She was clearly terrified.

  He brushed the hair back from her face and soothed, “Nothing will happen to you. This is Boston, not the south. You cannot be prosecuted for teaching a slave to read. Don’t worry. And if any fine arises out of this somehow, I’ll pay it. I’m glad you taught the girl to read. You gave her a gift that can never be taken away.” He brought his lips to her forehead and gave her a light kiss. “I’m proud of you, Mercy.”

  She stared up at him with her big, innocent eyes and a wave of longing swept over him. He wanted to hold her, kiss her and make her sigh in his arms. But he didn’t want to be anymore of a scoundrel in her opinion. He wouldn’t kiss her unless he had permission to court her properly. The air between them sizzled, but he forced himself to step back. “Will you be all right if I leave you here?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  “What are you thanking me for?”

  “For everything.”

  Her gaze lifted to him again and he felt himself leaning toward her. With great effort, he stopped himself. Not yet.

  He chucked her chin in order to
lighten the intensity of the moment. “You are thanking me for everything? Well, then I suppose you are welcome.” Taking another step backwards he explained, “I have a meeting. I need to go, but I’ll call on you soon. Perhaps you can come to church with me this Sunday. I like my new church and I want to share it with you. Last Sunday the pastor spoke on the Good Samaritan. I am anxious to see what this Sunday’s message will be. I’m sure you will like it.”

  She nodded and he turned to walk away. He didn’t want to leave her, but he really did need to go. Several captains were waiting at the docks for him right now, and he was already late.

  A small tremor of apprehension shot up his spine when he realized he’d basically just asked Mercy if he could court her.

  What had he done? He’d taken steps down a path he’d sworn he’d never set foot upon. But being married to Mercy would not be like marriage to any other woman. Mercy was a saint. He smiled and tried to picture marriage to a saint. It sounded positively—heavenly.

  ****

  Mercy stared up at the stately elegance of the tree branches above her and the magnificence of the lush, green foliage. It made her feel terribly small and insignificant in comparison.

  With her back against the tree, she slid down until she sat on the ground, brought her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. She sucked in a slow and ragged breath hoping it would somehow ease the aching in her chest, but it didn’t.

  Life had always been simple. It had always made sense. Now nothing did. She had always had a handle on her life…but now the handle was broken. It seemed as if the ground underneath her was as unstable as quicksand.

  When she had seen the countess fawning all over Mr. Berkeley, she’d wanted to scratch her eyes out, while seething, “He is mine, you cow. Stay away from him,” but that irrational anger scared her.

  And anyway, he wasn’t hers. Ian was hers. But last night, she’d forgotten that. Watching Mr. Berkeley smile, laugh and speak French with that pushy countess had made her stomach twist in knots, and she had the feeling he knew it…and was glad.

  When he walked out on the balcony, she’d followed to see if she could still get him to smile at her like he had before. But instead she saw him kissing a beautiful woman who sighed in his arms.

  Anger and disappointment swelled inside her like a tempest, which disgusted her since she had no right. If Mr. Berkeley came to the gazebo behind her house any night, he would see her kissing Ian.

  On top of everything else, she was a hypocrite.

  She clutched handfuls of the green blades of grass while a dozen painful emotions came gushing out in a torrent of tears. She wanted to pray, but she was sure God wouldn’t hear her. God only loved good people, and she’d long ago ceased being good.

  She could confess her sin, but that would mean giving up Ian and she didn’t think she could. She’d become an immoral, lying, and jealous girl over a man who was not even hers.

  She was despicable in every possible way. Mr. Berkeley was far too good for her. Ian was a liar like her. Their lies somehow bound them together in a web of deceit.

  What was going to become of her life? What was she going to do about Cordelia’s threat? What if she had to pay a fine but her father could not? Her father couldn’t afford anything. He was trying to sell her pianoforte? She hadn’t even known.

  What was she going to do about Mr. Berkeley’s declared intentions? What was she going to do about Ian? Would he ever earn enough money to marry her, or would she spend the rest of her life waiting—and lying?

  So many concerns weighed her down. She feared they would crush her and she’d simply blow away in the wind. Then, the thought ceased to be a worry and became a wish. If only, she could just blow away in the wind.

  Understanding Mercy

  Understanding Mercy

  Chapter Eight

  Rain clattered against Mercy’s bedroom window, awaking her. She sat up and glanced around. The tumultuous grey sky outside seemed to mirror the roiling emotions inside her. Grabbing her robe off a chair, she wrapped it around herself, walked to the window and stared outside. With her finger, she slowly traced the dark, wet leaves that clung to the glass, and wished her life was as easy to delineate.

  For the past three days, Mercy had been awaiting Cordelia’s wrath. The last two nights she’d gone to the gazebo, and waited alone in the cold, but Ian had never come. Deep down, she felt relieved.

  Lately, her kisses were not enough and he’d pressured her to do more. She wasn’t even sure what more was, but she knew she didn’t want to do it. She’d already given him so much, and she refused to give him what was left of her virtue. They had argued, and now it seemed he was punishing her.

  Then, there was Mr. Berkeley. Thankfully, he’d not come to call, and she hadn’t left the house. Not once. Not even to garden. She could not bear to see him, if she didn’t know what to say. She continued to trace the wet leaves and for some stupid reason found it calming and couldn’t stop.

  A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her mother walked into the room looking terribly concerned.

  “Sweetheart, your father would like to see you in his office.”

  “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”

  “No. He needs to leave, but he must speak with you first.”

  With dread she asked, “What is it?”

  “Just put on your slippers. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Mercy followed her into her father’s office and bit her lip when she saw him sitting in a chair looking haggard and hallow.

  She sank down into the chair across from him and managed, “What is it Daddy? What’s wrong?”

  “Mercy. You must tell me the truth. Did…did…” He looked down and twisted the ring on his finger and then lifted his lids and blurted out, “Did Mr. Berkeley attack you?”

  “What? Attack me? What do you mean?”

  “Did he rape you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  He let out an unusual breath of annoyance. “Did he force himself upon you? Did he touch you? Did he kiss you? Did he make you do things you didn’t want to do? Tell me the truth, Mercy.”

  “He touched me and he kissed my cheek, but he didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

  “Where did he touch you?”

  “Um. He touched my wrist once. A few days ago he touched my shoulders. And he did hold my face for a few seconds.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes, I promise. Mr. Berkeley has been nothing but respectful. He said if I want him to, he will ask you if he can court me.” She shook her head in confusion. “Why do you ask me these things?”

  “You don’t know what rape is?”

  “No, I told you I don’t.”

  Her father proceeded to explain, generally, what constituted rape, and then asked, “A horrible rumor is spreading that Mr. Berkeley was raping you, someone saw it and he ran away. Is this true?”

  Mercy jumped to her feet in horror. “That is a lie. That is an absolute lie! Mr. Berkeley never did anything like that. I would take an oath in court and swear it upon a Bible.”

  She paced around the room in agitation. “I know who started this rumor, and I know why. I taught Daisy to read and Cordelia found out about it. When she came over to confront me, she found me talking to Mr. Berkeley. His hands were on my shoulders.

  “I think Cordelia fancies him and was jealous, in addition to already being mad at me about Daisy. She lifted her hand to strike me, but Mr. Berkeley grabbed her wrist and stopped her. She flew into a rage and said we would both pay.”

  Her father let out a deep, weary breath. “What an evil girl.”

  “No one will believe her, Daddy.”

  “I’m sure most people will believe her. People love to believe lies, especially when they bring down a powerful man.”

  “There is no proof.”

  “Proof? Who needs proof? The tongue is powerful. The Bible says one little spar
k can quickly bring about horrible destruction. Irreparable ruin. I’m not sure Mr. Berkeley can recover from this.”

  “He did nothing wrong.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “He just needs to tell everyone he didn’t do it.”

  “Most people won’t believe him.”

  “I’m the one he supposedly raped. I’ll tell everyone it’s not true.”