Unfit

by Karma Chesnut

  She would never admit it, though. Perhaps it was because she had made Katherine a promise, or perhaps it was Charles’s unrelenting optimism that made it impossible for Morgan to voice her skepticism, but more than anything, Morgan felt guilty. She felt guilty because she and Katherine were the same now—two women fighting to keep a child they weren’t allowed to have. Only Morgan had found a way out. How could she live with herself if she gave up on Katherine and then went on to live the very life Katherine had asked her to help her keep?

  So, spurred on by Charles and Katherine’s confidence, the three of them met at the apartment night after night and dug through a seemingly endless mountain of books until the early hours of the morning, hoping tonight would be the night they would finally find the answer to the riddle.

  They read passage after passage out loud to each other, wondering if it could be helpful at all only to have the rest of the group agree it wasn’t. This had become their new pattern. Try, fail, try, fail, over and over again until all three of them inevitably fell asleep on top of a pile of books.

  “I’ve decided something,” Morgan announced that evening as Charles and Katherine began to take their places at their books. “I want to talk to Henry Bell.”

  Charles and Katherine stared at her.

  “Why?” Katherine finally asked.

  “Katherine’s hearing is only a week away, and we aren’t any closer to building a strong case than we were when we first started,” Morgan explained.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charles said, returning to his book.

  “Why not?” Morgan demanded.

  “Because talking to Henry Bell is just going to waste valuable time,” replied Charles. “The one thing we have going for us right now is the element of surprise. The Bells don’t know we’re helping Katherine. If they think their demands are going uncontested, maybe we can catch them off guard.”

  “You think the Bells are just going to walk into the Council Chambers unprepared? They’re going to have hundreds of reasons ready for why the Council should side with them.”

  “I think Morgan may be right,” Katherine said timidly.

  “What?” Charles asked.

  “It just feels like we’re working with half the information here, and maybe that’s the reason why we can’t come up with a solution,” said Katherine.

  “Exactly,” Morgan said. Her excitement had brought her to her feet and she paced the small apartment, gesticulating wildly as she thought out loud. “If we can just talk to Henry and get him to explain exactly why he thinks Katherine cheated on him, then maybe we can figure out a way to prove him wrong.”

  Charles tossed his book aside in exasperation. “You already said there was no way to prove him wrong. It’s just her word against his.”

  “Then let’s find out the real reason why he’s doing this,” Morgan said. “Maybe we can turn his own words against him at the Council hearing.”

  “You keep trying to convince yourself that the Bells have some dark, secret motivation for doing all of this,” said Charles. “Maybe Henry’s just a bastard who doesn’t want to be a father.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s nothing more to this case than just another Northridge family throwing their weight around. But what if you’re wrong?” Morgan said earnestly.

  “All right,” Charles finally relented. “These books are getting us nowhere anyway, so if there’s even a chance that talking to Henry Bell could help us, then it’s worth a shot. But on one condition—I want to go with you when you talk to him.”

  “Fine,” Morgan agreed. She didn’t particularly like the idea of going to the Bell’s estate alone anyway.

  “Great,” Katherine said. “When should we go?”

  Morgan looked over at Katherine apologetically. “I think it would be best if you stayed here.”

  “What?” Katherine exclaimed.

  “It might not be safe.”

  “I agree with Morgan,” said Charles.

  “You honestly expect me to just sit here all day and twiddle my thumbs?” Katherine snapped. Then, obviously regretting her harsh tone, calmly said, “I was married to him for almost two years. I can help. What if I promise to wait outside the gates?”

  “I don’t see the harm in that.” Charles’s reply came a little too quickly.

  Morgan eyed Charles curiously. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll all head out first thing in the morning.”

  The Bell plantation sat on top of a lush hillside, sprawling for acres in every direction. The Bells and the Loughlins were technically next-door neighbors, but the sheer size of each estate put them almost a mile apart from each other. Still, Morgan found it odd being so close to home. As they walked towards the Bell’s estate, she looked to the west, straining to catch a glimpse of her childhood home’s rooftop above the trees. She’d only been gone a couple of weeks, but everything about Northridge was already beginning to feel alien to her.

  They walked up the long, deserted driveway towards the Bells’ house, surrounded by thick clusters of trees on both sides. If Morgan hadn’t known better, she would have thought they were just walking along a woodland trail. A lofty manor rose into view, sitting amid a lush, perfectly trimmed grass field. The house buzzed with life as gardeners trimmed the nearby hedges and three small children chased each other across the lawn.

  Henry Bell lived with his two wives—well, one wife now that Katherine had left—in a cottage behind the main house, just a stone’s throw from the rest of his family. Charles and Morgan headed there now, hoping that, after coming all this way, they would make it past the front door.

  As promised, Katherine waited outside the gate and out of sight of the house as Charles and Morgan approached and rapped twice on the heavy oak doors. Henry’s housemaid, a plump woman with sparkling blue eyes and gold hair, answered, beaming as she inquired how she could help them this beautiful morning.

  “Is Henry home?” Morgan asked, putting on the bright smile she had learned to adorn when addressing her Northridge peers. “We were hoping to have a quick word with him.”

  “Oh,” the woman said, her cheerfulness faltering for a moment. “Is he expecting you?”

  “I hope you will excuse our impropriety,” Morgan said, putting on airs. “I’m afraid we are dropping in unannounced.”

  “Then I’m afraid I can’t let you in. Mr. Henry isn’t feeling well, you see, and isn’t up to receiving visitors.”

  “He may not be expecting us, but he will know what this is about and I’m afraid it’s rather urgent,” Morgan said, but the woman looked unconvinced, her hand already on the door.

  “We will only take a minute, I promise,” Charles said, flashing that signature smile that always seemed to get him what he wanted. “Henry is a dear friend and I know he will be very happy to see us.”

  Melting as she smiled back at Charles, the maid said, “Just for a minute.” And, stepping aside, she invited them in.

  She led them to a sitting room, bursting with oversized furniture. Henry Bell sat in a particularly large chair, his slight frame overwhelmed by the immense size of it. He wore simple cotton clothing, the kind worn when lounging around the house, but that no self-respecting Northridge resident would be caught wearing in public.

  Henry looked ghastly. He was several pounds lighter and looked about twenty years older than the last time Morgan had seen him, which couldn’t have been more than eighteen months ago. His face was unnaturally pale and sallow, and even though he was sitting, he struggled to catch his breath.

  As Morgan and Charles were ushered into the room, Henry quickly stood and donned a hospitable smile, putting what seemed to be every ounce of energy he had into pretending he felt much better than he obviously did.

  “Charles Loughlin, as I live and breathe,” he said. Stepping forward to greet them, Henry tried and failed to cover a wince of pain as he momentarily staggered before hugging Charles with a solid thump on the back. “And I see you brought your lov
ely sister as well. Morgan, right? Such a pleasure. What are you two doing here?” He tossed his maid a sideways glare with that last sentence. She immediately lowered her head and scurried from the room.

  “We were in the area and thought we’d drop in for a moment,” Charles said.

  “Well, I’m very honored you thought of me, but I’m afraid you’ve caught me on a bad day,” Henry said, sitting back down, the painfully forced smile still plastered on his face. “I seem to have come down with a bit of a cold. Probably caught it at one of the Fairchild’s parties. They always invite far too many people for that cramped excuse for a ballroom. Spend the night shoulder to shoulder with half of Haven and you’re bound to catch something.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Morgan took a seat and skeptically examined Henry. She had never heard of a cold that could do this to a person. “We just have a couple of quick questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

  Charles let out a nervous laugh. “Morgan, there’s no need to bombard Henry with questions, especially when he’s not feeling well. I’m sure he would prefer a more lighthearted and delicate conversation.”

  Charles was right. Morgan had been too hasty to get to the point and scolded herself for her inelegant tactic.

  Henry tilted his head slightly and his eyes narrowed on Morgan, his fake smile waning slightly. “That’s all right,” he said. “I’m always happy to help a friend. What is this concerning?”

  Morgan hesitated for a moment and wondered if it was too late to back off and let Charles take over. It seemed it was too late now, however. Henry was already poised at the edge of his seat, his face inscrutable as his guard went up. Morgan lifted her chin and stared down her nose at Henry. He was already on the defense, so she might as well play the role of the aggressor.

  “This is about your wife, Katherine,” said Morgan.

  Henry swallowed hard and seemed to be steeling himself as he cast his eyes to the floor. He sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, with a slight smirk on his face, he said in a smooth, confident voice, “My mother told me she had heard rumors you two were helping Katherine. I told her that couldn’t be true, you had far too much common sense to get caught up in Katherine’s nonsense.”

  “I don’t think a woman simply trying to defend herself falls under the category of nonsense,” Morgan replied.

  “She’s not the one who needs defending here,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair. “I have my reasons for doing what I’m doing.”

  “Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind explaining them to us?” said Morgan, leaning forward to close the distance in a way she hoped conveyed more confidence than she felt.

  “What exactly are you accusing me of, Ms. Loughlin?” Henry said.

  “I haven’t accused you of anything,” Morgan replied. “Not yet, at least.”

  “This is ridiculous,” said Henry. Hoisting himself out of his armchair, he began pacing. “My wife has an affair and gets herself pregnant with another man’s child and yet I’m the one being interrogated like some kind of common criminal.”

  “Do you have any actual evidence that she had an affair?” asked Charles.

  Henry’s face grew dark as he drew his head back into his shoulders, like a cornered dog ready to attack. “Come our day before the Council, I think you will find I have all the evidence I need to support my claims.”

  “And would that evidence happen to come in the form of a Southend beggar you promised would be generously compensated on the condition he spouts off whatever lies you tell him to?” Charles asked.

  Henry smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just say I have the exact evidence I need to get the exact result I want.”

  Charles crossed the room in two giant bounds, planting himself directly in front of Henry’s waifish frame. “This entire case is a sham and you know it,” Charles hissed in Henry’s face.

  “I know no such thing,” Henry responded calmly, his voice almost a whisper. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the moment Katherine found herself in trouble she came running back to your arms. What does surprise me though is that you’re playing along, letting her string you around like some lovesick puppy.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Charles growled.

  “It’s really quite pathetic,” Henry continued. “I would have thought that a man of your rank and breeding would have better sense than to associate with unfits and whores.” He looked at Morgan. “I guess bad judgment just runs in the family. You’re no better than the company you keep, wouldn’t you agree, Morgan?”

  Morgan’s body tightened, her eyes narrow as daggers. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I heard about John’s arrest. I also heard you visited him at the asylum,” said Henry. “Apparently there’s more going on between you two than meets the eye.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Morgan lied, her confidence wavering.

  Henry smirked. “At least you still have Katherine. The two of you can bond over how you threw your lives away. It’s such a shame, too. I was rooting for you to become the first female Council member. It would have been entertaining to see, like watching a dog walk on two legs.”

  “We’re done here,” Morgan said, standing from her seat. Charles also turned to follow his sister out.

  “But I suppose I really should be thanking you, Charles,” Henry called after them. “Katherine running around with her ex-fiancé the day after I turn her out doesn’t exactly paint her as the faithful, doting wife. For all any of us know, the bastard she’s carrying could be yours.”

  Charles laughed. “Now you’re just grasping at any straws you can reach, Henry. Everyone knows the child is yours and the Council is going to see right through your desperate fabrication. But, for the record,” Charles said, his broad frame seeming to fill the room, “if there was even a chance the baby was mine, I would man up and do the right thing.”

  Henry’s face grew paler, if that was even possible, and contorted in rage. “As much as I enjoy being verbally accosted in my own home, I think it’s time you two left.”

  The front door opened and closed a moment before Henry’s mother came walking into the parlor, stopping mid-step when she saw Charles and Morgan.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, her eyes darting from Henry to the Loughlin siblings, too shocked to even try to put on a facade of politeness. “You can’t be here.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Bell,” Morgan said. “We were just leaving.”

  “Henry,” Charles nodded farewell. “I look forward to seeing you humiliate yourself at the Council hearing.”

  “Get out!” Henry bellowed.

  “With pleasure,” Charles shouted over his shoulder as he and Morgan headed towards the door.

  Leaving the house, Morgan could hear Henry and his mother quietly arguing with each other. “What were you thinking, letting them see you in this condition?” Mrs. Bell whispered harshly just before the maid slammed the door behind them.

  Morgan and Charles walked in silence back down the stone path away from the house.

  “That was a brilliant waste of time,” Charles said, kicking a rock in his path.

  “What was that?” Morgan asked.

  “I know,” said Charles. “He was completely out of line.”

  “I meant you.”

  Charles stopped. “I’m just trying to help my friend.”

  “Really?” Morgan said. “Because it’s starting to feel more personal than that.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Charles asked, but Morgan wasn’t sure how to answer or even if she should. Perhaps she was reading into something that wasn’t even there.

  “You didn’t have to egg him on like that,” she responded, changing the subject.

  Charles shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face. “If we can’t make him drop the suit, then the least I can do is ruin his day.”

  Smiling back and shaking her head, Morgan said, “I ha
ve a lot more respect for Katherine for putting up with that terrible man for two years.”

  “I like him. He reminds me of our brother, Samuel. Just meaner and paler,” Charles said, then more seriously added, “We must have hit a nerve, though. Why else would he have come at us like that?”

  Morgan turned back towards the house. She had been so sure something would have come of this visit, that something would have pointed them in the right direction.

  Just as she was about to give up and tell Katherine the bad news, a movement in one of the upstairs windows caught her eye. Morgan could just make out the silhouette of a woman. She was just standing there, watching them.

  “They’re obviously hiding something,” said Charles.

  The figure in the window reached her arm out towards Morgan, beckoning her forward. It was hard to see in the harsh afternoon light, but the woman in the window seemed to be pointing around towards the back of the house. Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, the woman was gone, the curtain swaying where she had just stood.

  “Absolutely,” Morgan said almost robotically, distracted and perplexed by what she had just seen.

  “What now?” Charles asked.

  Pulling her attention away from the window, Morgan replied, “If you want to know the truth, you ask the matriarch of the family.”

  Leaving Charles behind to find Katherine, Morgan walked back up to the house alone. But, instead of knocking on the front door again, she followed where the mysterious woman had been pointing and found a narrow stone path that led around to the back of the house, where she came upon a small, white door.

  Morgan hesitated for a moment, wondering who would answer if she knocked. She softly tapped on the door.

  It swung open immediately. A woman who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Morgan cast a glance around the grounds and pulled Morgan into the house, quickly closing the door behind them.

  Morgan’s eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness of the cramped, windowless entryway. She could hear Henry and his mother still arguing in the distance, their voices too muffled to make out any of the words. Little by little, shapes began to come back into focus—a small wooden chair in the corner, a flight of stairs leading up into more darkness, and a woman’s face, holding her finger up to her lips, warning Morgan to remain silent. She motioned for Morgan to follow her and the two climbed the stairs, placing their feet softly on each step so as not to make a sound.