Daughters of the Summer Storm Frances Statham (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📖

the servant's words—knowing that she would not be alone with Crane inside the mine.

Her husband took a lantern hanging by the side, and lighting it, he held it for the two women to step inside the mouth of the dark mine. The entrance was fortified by crossbeams and dirt, and as Marigold went into the darkness, the light of the lantern caught the glint of the gold locket around her neck. The shadows of the three people were cast against the far wall, giving an eerie distortion of elongated figures.

Marigold shivered at the sudden coldness, and her counterpart upon the wall moved at the same time. "It feels like the cellar where the hams are kept," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"It's even colder than that," Crane revealed. "Forty-nine degrees. Quite a change, isn't it, from the ninety degrees outside?"

A drop of water from overhead fell on Marigold and she jumped. "I don't like it in here, Crane," she managed to say. "Please don't make me go any farther."

Crane's laughter echoed down the tunnel. "You're not interested in seeing the rails?"

"No."

Just then, a noise came from in front of them, a rolling sound on the tracks. And soon, the shiny new car filled with gold ore appeared, with two men beside it. One was Shaun, but Marigold did not recognize the other.

The auburn-haired man was surprised to see Marigold standing inside the mine with Crane and Feena. He looked at Crane with a quizzical expression.

"I thought my wife might be interested in seeing your rails, Shaun, but evidently not. Marigold appears to be more anxious to return to the sunlight."

"A wise decision," Shaun affirmed. "The tunnels and shafts are too dangerous for her to be exploring, especially in her condition."

"You're right, of course," Crane admitted and walked out of the mine with his wife. Once outside in the sunlight, Marigold vowed that she would never go inside again, no matter what Crane said.

28

"I think, Marigold, it is time for you to consult a doctor," Crane said as she bade him good-night. It was late and Marigold was tired.

"Dr. Kellie is aware. . ."

"I do not mean Dr. Kellie," he cut in. "He will not be attending you."

"But I like Dr. Kellie," Marigold protested.

"Nevertheless, I do not plan on calling him again."

"But why, Crane?"

"He let my mother die."

"Cousin Julie had consumption," Marigold argued. "There was nothing he could do but try to make her more comfortable at the end. It was not his fault that there is no cure for the disease."

"Nevertheless, I plan for you to see someone else. I shall tell Sesame to have the carriage at the door by ten tomorrow morning. Please be ready, Marigold."

He walked on up the stairs, leaving her standing in the parlor. Why all this sudden concern for her? Crane did not seem to be that concerned at the mine earlier that day when he forced her to go inside.

Marigold took the lamp in her hands. The door upstairs closed, and at its sound, she walked to the kitchen where Feena was waiting for her. Together they climbed the stairs to Marigold's bedroom opposite the hall from Crane's closed door.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Marigold confided to Feena, as the woman helped her with her dress.

"You are speaking about Monsieur Crane?"

"Yes. He deceived me, Feena. He took the note from Robbie that Shaun had written to me and then pretended Shaun had jilted me."

"I know, ma petite. You still love your Irishman. It is written on your face."

"Is it that obvious, Feena? To everybody?"

"Only to me, I hope—for your sake. Monsieur Crane is a jealous man. You belong to him, as well as the child you are carrying. And Monsieur Shaun has no claim on you."

The tears came to Marigold's eyes. "Oh, Feena, I have made such a botch of it. Shaun will be leaving here soon to go back to Charleston and to. . . to Docia Henley."

"And when he does, you will tell him good-bye like a lady."

"I don't want to be a lady. I want to go back with him. I'll die if I have to stay here with Crane for the rest of my life."

Feena's look was compassionate. "Monsieur Crane is not the only man who has acquired a wife by deception. And the child may still salvage your marriage to him, chérie."

"Nothing can salvage this marriage, Feena. Not even the baby." She could not bring herself to tell Feena about the episode in the slave cabin.

"Did you know that is what your maman thought when she tried to run away from your papa?"

Marigold's tawny eyes widened in disbelief. "Maman ran away from Papa? When was that, Feena?"

"I shouldn't be telling you, but so many years have passed. . . It was after you and Maranta were born—soon after the hurricane on the island. I was against it. But your maman was headstrong and unhappy, just as you are now. We got as far as Midgard—for your maman needed the gold that Madame Julie had given her—before your papa caught up with us."

"But why was she running away? Maman loves Papa more than anything in the world. And he adores her."

"Oui. But those were stormy times. Monsieur Robert was a jealous man back then. He thought Madame Eulalie was in love with someone else. And that made it hard on her. I am only telling you this, ma petite, because Monsieur Crane is a jealous man, and he knows you don't love him. But even if you feel you have made a terrible mistake, you must give this marriage time to work, because of the baby."

Marigold went over Feena's confidence time and again. Was she just being childish, wanting what she couldn't have? Was this what growing up meant—to give up girlish dreams and first loves and settle down to making the best of things? She was still confused when sleep came.

Marigold was ready at ten o'clock the next morning. And