surreal.
The man who ran the livery seemed
surprised to see her. Though she had
matured in her absence, her raven hair and
silver eyes made her easily recognizable
as a Decatur.
“It’s been a while, ‘adn’t it, Miss
Decatur?” the balding man said in a burr
even more pronounced than Maralee’s
own accent. “What brings ye back home
after all dis time?”
“It’s time I took charge of the Decatur
Estates. My aunt has carried my burden
for so many years. I’m sure she’ll be glad
to get back to her own life.”
The friendly owner of the livery
looked uncharacteristically concerned. “Is
yer aunt ‘spectin’ ye den?”
Maralee couldn’t help but flush. “No,
actually my return will probably be quite
a surprise.”
The man looked even grimmer at this
news. “I’m not sure she’ll be happy tuh
see ye.”
Maralee laughed. “No, I don’t suppose
that she will be,” Maralee agreed. “I’ll
have someone from the estate return this
horse by tomorrow.”
The man held the horse still while she
mounted and then handed her knapsack to
her. “Be careful, little miss.”
A spear of pain stabbed her heart.
Nash had called her that on their first
meeting. She pushed thoughts of him aside.
She knew how quickly she would fall into
despair if she allowed herself to think of
him for even a brief moment. She hoped
Rella and the children appreciated Nash’s
love as much as she had. “I will, sir. I
thank you for your concern. Good day.”
The man released the horse’s bridle
and Maralee urged the gelding forward at
a sedate pace. As she rode slowly through
the streets of Dubwar, passersby watched
her curiously. There seemed to be an
excessive number of destitute townsfolk
with worn coats and gaunt, uninspired
faces. Maralee didn’t remember there
being a large underclass in Dubwar, but
perhaps she was merely more sensitive to
such things now that she was older.
A boy dashed into the street in front of
her. Her horse balked in protest, emitting
a loud whinny. The animal fidgeted for a
moment and then settled down with a
disgruntled neigh. The boy, in his early
teens, grabbed her ankle and looked up at
her.
“Do ye have any food to spare, mum?”
he asked her, glancing over his shoulder to
a younger boy who was lurking behind a
post.
“Oh,” Maralee gasped, surprised. She
knew there had never been children
reduced to beggars in Dubwar before. The
small city must have fallen upon hard
times in her absence. Perhaps this was
why her aunt had been concerned about
her spending her money without regard.
Maralee reached for her pack and
rummaged inside. She had purchased
some food to consume on her long
carriage ride and believed there were still
a few apples in her knapsack. She found
what she was looking for near the bottom
and fished out three slightly bruised fruits.
Even though the boy stood several feet
below her, she heard his stomach rumble.
“I’m sorry that I don’t have more than
this,” she said, handing him the fruit. She
felt like a glutton, having already
consumed every other scrap of food she’d
purchased.
“ T ha nk ye, mum,” the boy said,
bowing his head before turning on his heel
and sprinting to the smaller boy, who was
already holding his hands out to accept an
apple.
Maralee reached into her cloak pocket
for her money pouch. She knew giving the
boys the few coins remaining in her purse
wouldn’t get them far, but she couldn’t
leave them with only a trio of apples.
“Wait,” Maralee called to the older
lad. She directed her horse towards the
boardwalk.
The older boy glanced over his
shoulder at Maralee and then pressed all
three apples into the smaller boy’s hands.
He pushed the boy forward and said
anxiously, “Run and hide, Henry. Hurry.”
Confused,
Maralee
watched
the
younger boy race off. “I wasn’t going to
ask for my apples back,” Maralee told the
remaining boy. “I just wanted to give you
something.”
The boy looked up at her in disbelief.
She dismounted her horse and took a step
closer to him. She held out her hand to
offer him a collection of half a dozen
coins. He reached for them timidly before
withdrawing his empty hand again.
Maralee tried to sooth him with a
gentle smile. “It’s all right. I want you to
have this money to buy some more food.
Was that younger boy your brother?”
The boy nodded, gazing at the offered
coins but still not taking them.
“Where are your parents?” Maralee
asked him, taking another step in his
direction.
“Dead,” he murmured. “Killed by
Wolves.”
Maralee lowered her eyes. She just
couldn’t win, and it seemed she would
never escape her preordained destiny.
“What’s your name?”
“Timothy Evans.”
The last name was not familiar to
Maralee, but just because she hadn’t
known this boy’s parents didn’t mean their
well-being was not her responsibility. She
should have been here to protect them.
“So you two live on the streets
alone?” Maralee asked.
He nodded, avoiding her eyes.
“Well, take these coins for now and
then come to Decatur manor in the
morning. I’ll try to find you a job in the
stables or something.”
The boy looked up at her, eyes wide
with anxiety. “No, thank you,” he said,
nervously. “Thank you for the apples.” He
turned on his heel and sped off in the
direction his brother had vanished. The
coins remained untouched in Maralee’s
hand.
Maralee
stared
after
the
boy,
perplexed by his reaction.
“Is that you, Ms. Decatur?” a voice
called from several yards away.
Maralee turned and recognized the
banker, Reginald Oxford. She smiled and
waved at him. She had planned to visit his
office after she had settled into the manor,
but decided now was as good a time as
any.
“Mr. Oxford,” she greeted, walking
towards the man with her rented horse in
tow.
“My, I almost
didn’t recognize you,”
Mr. Oxford said, hobbling over to her
with the support of his intricately carved,
wooden
cane.
“You’ve
become
a
woman.”
“It’s good to see you again. Would you
happen to have a few moments to go over
my accounts?”
“Your accounts?” he echoed, flushing
to the roots of his stark white hair. “Well,
okay. I guess you have a right to see
them.”
Maralee tied the horse to the railing in
front of the bank and followed Mr. Oxford
into the double doors of the establishment.
They walked through an opulent lobby and
into his office.
“Have a seat,” he offered, nodding
towards one of the chairs. “I just need to
go retrieve your account ledger.” He left
the room, a grim expression on his face.
Maralee took a seat in a plush chair to
wait. She wondered what had happened to
this town in her absence. Were times
really that tough? Had the Wolves driven
the entire populace into despair? Perhaps
she should have stayed in Dubwar all
along. It seemed she had made a grievous
error in leaving and remaining absent for
so long. In any case, with almost a million
in gold in her accounts, she should be able
to help the town get back on its feet. She
could provide housing and decent food for
children like Timothy and Henry Evans at
the very least. She was certain that she
could make a difference.
Mr. Oxford returned a few moments
later, carrying a large, leather bound
volume. The name Decatur was engraved
in gold on the spine. He closed the door
quietly and hobbled across the room to sit
behind his desk. He avoided Maralee’s
gaze.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Oxford?”
He glanced up at her. “I will warn you
that the current state of your accounts will
likely come as surprise to you.”
Maralee scowled. “A good surprise or
a bad surprise?”
He cleared his throat. “Your expenses
have greatly exceeded your revenues for
the past decade or so, and well, I guess
it’s best to just tell you outright—your
account is in the red.”
“In the red?” There must be some
mistake!
“Your family has banked with us for
many decades and so we extended several
sizable loans to keep your estates afloat
over the past five years, but none of the
debts have been repaid.”
“I haven’t taken out any loans.”
Mr. Oxford nodded. “I realize you did
not authorize the loans, but your aunt was
solely in charge of your accounts and
so…”
“My aunt?”
“We were not allowed by law to
prevent her from accessing your funds
until four months ago. She had already
cleared out the accounts by that time and
has amassed a debt of over five hundred
thousand gold in your name.”
Maralee shook her head in disbelief.
She would never be able to dig herself out
of such a deep hole, and here she was
thinking of how she could use her wealth
to help the town recover from its strange
recession.
“Why didn’t someone inform me of
this before it got so out of hand?” Maralee
asked.
“It wasn’t as if we didn’t try,” Mr.
Oxford said. “We could never locate you.
Legally, we were in no position to refuse
your aunt’s access to your funds until you
turned twenty-one last November.”
“Damn it!” she yelled and then cringed
at Mr. Oxford. “I apologize for my
vulgarity.”
“Completely
understandable,”
he
murmured. “Believe me, I have expressed
more than a few vulgarities in regards to
your aunt.”
Maralee was surprised to see hatred
behind the man’s gaze.
Mr. Oxford continued, “Begging your
pardon, miss, but she is the vilest person
I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.
It is not my place to stick my nose into
your family matters, but she used the
money she stole from you to buy property
in the area. She then rents it out to the
previous owners for absurd amounts of
money and if they refuse or are unable to
pay they wind up mysteriously dead—the
infallible targets of Wolf attacks on the
night of the full moon.”
“Wolf attacks?”
“Some say she has some sort of
agreement with them. An alliance of
sorts.”
“This is unbelievable,” Maralee cried.
She was trembling so hard that she feared
she would disintegrate.
Mr. Oxford rose to his feet and
hobbled over to a pitcher of water on a
side table. He filled a glass and brought it
to her. She took a sip and lowered her
hand, staring off into space.
“What am I going to do?” she
whispered.
Mr. Oxford placed a comforting hand
on her shoulder and gave it a gentle
squeeze. “I’m sorry I had to be the bearer
of bad tidings. Your father was such a
great man. I see much of his fine character
in you.”
was too distressed to acknowledge it. She
sat there, a thousand thoughts twisting
chaotically through her mind. “The money
is gone, but the property still belongs to
me, doesn’t it?”
“For now,” Mr. Oxford agreed. “The
bank will need repaying however, and it
is your only asset.”
Maralee stood up abruptly, startling
Mr. Oxford. She set the glass on his desk
before confronting him. “Do you mean you
plan to take the Decatur estates from me as
a repayment of those loans?” Hysterical,
she seized the old man by both arms.
“Don’t tell me that you would put me in
such an impossible position!”
Mr. Oxford couldn’t meet her eyes. “I
have an obligation to my business. We
cannot operate if we ignore outstanding
debts for too long. The legal actions have
already been filed. The property will be
auctioned off to the highest bidder, who
will undoubtedly be your aunt. She never
deposits her rent receipts. She must have
cash somewhere.”
“I can’t believe this. I stand to lose
everything,” she said, releasing the aged
banker and gripping the back of a chair to
keep herself on her feet.
“The loans are due in six weeks,” he
said. “If you can somehow pay them off in
that time frame, then…”
&nbs
p; Maralee looked up at him. “Six
weeks?” she echoed. “That’s not enough
time for me to come up with half a million
in gold!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Decatur,” he said
sincerely. “I wish that there was
something more I could do for you.
Perhaps you can persuade your aunt…”
Maralee was silent for several tense
moments as she stared into nothingness.
“I’ll get your money, Mr. Oxford. I don’t
know how, but I cannot let her take my
family home from me. It is all I have left
of them.”
Why had she stayed away for so long?
She had trusted her aunt. Memories in that
house had haunted her, but now that she
stood to lose it, she knew it was an
important part of her.
“Thank you for your time,” she said
and let herself out of his office.
She was in a daze as she mounted the
rented horse. The trip to the front gates of
the Decatur estates on the outskirts of
town made her heart ache. The scenery
seemed the same and yet it was much
different somehow. The idea of losing it
made it more precious and vivid.
“I’ve been a fool,” she muttered to
herself. “Believing that people were
inherently good, that it was my duty to
protect them, that I could make a
difference, that I could save both my
people and Nash’s simply by loving him
enough. I can’t even save myself.”
At the end of the graveled lane, the
Decatur’s wrought iron gates stood closed
and locked. In all of her experiences,
they’d always stood wide open in
welcome. Something as simple as this
threatened to melt her resolve. Perhaps
she should just give up. Her entire life
seemed to be one enormous, hopeless
mistake.
“I can’t give up yet,” she said with
conviction, “for once, I’m going to do
something just for me. I’m going to take
my home back if it’s the last thing I do.”
The main house was just visible from
her vantage outside the gates. The front
doors opened and someone stepped
outside. No matter who it was, she knew
they could not lawfully keep her out of her
own home, and it was hers for at least
another six weeks.
“Hello!” she called loudly. “Send
someone to unlock the gates.”
The person paused and turned in her
direction. The figure started towards her
and as he drew nearer, Maralee
recognized the family butler.
“Mr.
Trayburn, it’s Maralee. I’ve
come home.”
“Miss Decatur?” he called uncertainly,