Where The Heart Is (Choices of the Heart, book 1)

by Jennie Marsland

  Jack stepped inside and shut the kitchen door behind him, took the two of them in with a glance and cleared his throat. “Now then, Martin. I see you’re havin’ some of Caroline’s pudding. Chelle, where is everyone?”

  Chelle tried for some dignity. “Dad and Brian have gone to the Crow. Jean went upstairs with a headache. I think Aunt’s gone upstairs, too.”

  “Then I may as well join Colin and Brian for a pint. Tell Caroline if you see her. Here’s the mail.” Jack dropped three or four envelopes on the end of the table, did an about-face and was gone.

  Chelle caught a glimpse of her flushed face in the window, her lips still wet from kissing. The sight made her blush even more fiercely. “He almost caught us.”

  Martin wore a wicked grin. “But he didn’t.”

  “He wasn’t fooled for a second, and you know it.” Chelle reached for the mail. A letter for Jean, one for Uncle Jack… her heart jumped when she saw her name on the third envelope in an unfamiliar hand. She wasn’t corresponding with anyone but Trey. When she opened it, all the glow faded from the evening. “This is from the Paxtons’ solicitor. They’re suing you for custody of Leah and naming me in the suit. They have a court date on December first. I can’t believe they have the gall to go through with it.” In the two weeks since her last encounter with Leah’s grandparents, Chelle had come to believe their threats had been idle.

  Martin took the letter, scanned it, flung it down on the table. “I can believe it, though I’ve been hoping they’d given up the idea. Of course, someone has told them I’ve been calling here. They have a real spite against you, Chelle.”

  “And because of me, you’re in danger of losing your daughter.” The thought stabbed her to the heart.

  “I told you before, I won’t be bullied, and I won’t have you blaming yourself for this. I’m as much to blame as you are. Damn.” Martin got to his feet, shoulders tight with anger. “I’d better be off home. I’ve been out most of the day, and Jessie will have picked up the mail this afternoon when she and the little one were in the village. There’ll be a solicitor’s letter for me, too, I’ll warrant. She’ll recognize Mr. Slater’s name, guess what it’s about and worry until I open it.” He shrugged into his coat. “I’ll see you soon, lass. Goodnight.”

  He strode out. Major’s hooves beat a tattoo on the cobbles. Chelle climbed the stairs and shut herself in her room.

  Martin had come so far since he’d taken Leah home. His daughter meant everything to him. He couldn’t lose her now.

  Chelle’s unfinished letter to Trey lay where she’d left it, on top of her writing case. She spread the letter on the nightstand and retrieved her pen and ink from the drawer.

  Of course, you have no idea who Martin is. He’s Mr. Rainnie, Leah’s father. I’ve gotten to know him very well.

  Another gust of wind rattled the window pane. Somehow, the lonesome sound made the distance between her and Trey feel endless. If only she could see him, tell him face to face about Martin. Trey had always read her so well. He’d likely have something to say that would help her make sense of her feelings.

  Or would he? After all, he’d never had much to say about Rory. She’d never even told Trey the whole truth about why she and Rory had broken up.

  Perhaps it was time she did.

  Trey, there’s something I want to tell you. We didn’t have a lot of time to talk before Dad and I left for England. There was so much to do, and I didn’t want to make things harder for you or Dad, but now I want you to know.

  I told you Rory and I broke up because he couldn’t accept our views on the war and the Confederacy. That was true, but there was more to it than that. The last time we spoke, I told him Dad wanted to go home. Rory said that he loved me and wanted to marry me and that he’d even spoken to his parents about it.

  They weren’t pleased, but they agreed to an engagement, to last until the war ended and Rory came home. I’m sure they only bent that far because they didn’t want to part with Rory on bad terms, and they thought that by the time the war was over he’d change his mind. I could go to England with Dad in the meantime, but after I returned to Georgia and Rory and I were married, neither Dad nor you would be welcome at Pinehaven, and I wasn’t to visit either of you. We’d have no contact except by letter, and I wasn’t to mention either of you to the McAfees.

  I don’t think any of this was Rory’s idea, and I don’t think he liked it, but he agreed to it. Perhaps he thought his parents would change their minds with time, but if so, I didn’t give him the chance to say so. I lost my temper and said he could tell his parents that I would always welcome my family in my home wherever that happened to be, and I wouldn’t dream of marrying a man who couldn’t welcome them, too.

  I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you to make it clear that I have no regrets, and because I’m wondering now if, over the past eight months, I’ve grown enough and learned enough to be able to tell if I’m really in love or not.

  If she had learned that much, it was because of Martin. Whatever the cost to herself, Chelle couldn’t repay him by costing him his daughter.

  * * *

  As he expected, Martin got home to find a letter from Mr. Slater waiting.

  Jessie was outraged when he told her what it contained. “That’s rich when you think of how they treated their own daughter,” she snapped. “I’m surprised at the magistrate for even agreeing to hear them.”

  “So am I when it comes to that, but who knows what the Paxtons told Mr. Slater. Anyway, we’ll find out at the hearing. Go on up to bed, Jessie. There’s naught to be gained by worrying. I’ll be going up soon myself.”

  When Jessie had gone upstairs, Martin poured himself a drink and settled in his chair by the hearth. He didn’t expect to sleep, and he didn’t. Through the window, he watched the sky over the byre flush pink with dawn, then went out to do the chores. He came in to breakfast and found Jessie none the wiser that he hadn’t gone to bed at all.

  Breakfast was barely cleared away when Hugh Paxton drove into the yard. Martin’s foul mood took an immediate turn for the worse. He swore under his breath, reached for his coat and slammed the door behind him. “Say what you came to say and be off, Hugh. You aren’t welcome here.”

  Hugh climbed down from the seat and stood his ground, though from his expression it wasn’t easy. “I take it you’ve received Mr. Slater’s letter. Now you know I meant what I said the last time I was here. I don’t want that McShannon girl raising Eleanor’s child.”

  Martin took a deep breath and clamped down on his anger. “I don’t believe you or Margaret really care a rap for Leah. This is all about Rochelle.”

  Hugh swallowed hard, but he didn’t back away. “We know you’ve been keeping company with her. Delia Putnam has been telling all over Carston how you and Miss McShannon behaved at the harvest dance. She’s not one of us, to begin with, and she’s a brazen little wh—”

  The furious rush of Martin’s pulse drowned out the rest of the word. He lashed out with both fists and felt them strike flesh, hard. Eleanor’s father landed in an unconscious heap on the cobbles.

  “Christ.” As Martin’s rage faded, shock took over.

  Jessie came running from the house, shivering without a coat. “Good Lord. What possessed you?” She knelt beside Hugh and chafed his wrist. “Don’t just stand there gaping, get him into the house and go for the doctor.”

  Martin carried Hugh inside to the sofa and left him to Jessie’s care. His ride to the village echoed the night Leah was ill, with many of the same thoughts racing through his mind. Please, God, I can’t lose her, too. He’d never be able to live with himself if this cost him his daughter.

  Doctor Halstead happened to be home. He took one look at Martin’s face and grabbed his medical bag. “What are her symptoms this time?”

  “It isn’t Leah. I just punched Hugh Paxton senseless.”

  The doctor completely lost his professional demeanor. “The devil you did. Wher
e is he? How bad is he?”

  “He’s at my place. He was unconscious when I left him. Jessie’s with him. Hurry, man.”

  Home again, Martin stopped on the doorstep to prepare himself for the worst. He couldn’t fathom his relief when he opened the door and saw Hugh awake, propped up on pillows, holding a bag of ice to his jaw. Doctor Halstead hurried in and began examining him while Martin waited at the table with Jessie.

  “He roused about five minutes after you left,” she whispered. “He’s sore and bruised, and in a rare temper with it, but that’s all if you ask me.”

  Doctor Halstead joined them a few minutes later. “You’re lucky, Martin. There doesn’t seem to be any serious damage done. You’ll be facing a simple assault charge instead of anything worse.”

  Assault charge? Of course. Hugh would have a much better chance of getting custody of his granddaughter with her father cooling his heels in jail. A sentence of one or two weeks was all it would take, and the facts guaranteed that.

  Leah sat by Jessie’s feet, playing quietly, a little subdued by the tension in the room. Martin picked his daughter up and held her close while he took a few deep, calming breaths, then he handed her to Jessie and crossed the room to the sofa. “Hugh, if Eleanor could see us now, she wouldn’t be pleased.”

  Hugh shifted the bag of ice on his face and raised his stone-gray eyes to Martin’s. “Don’t speak of my daughter to me. You’ve chosen to replace her with a creature that isn’t fit to wipe her boots.” He swung his feet to the floor and squared his shoulders. “When I leave here, I’m driving into the village to lay charges against you. Tell Mrs. Mason to get Leah ready. She’s coming home with me.”

  “No, she is not. Go and send the bailiff for me. That’s your right, but as long as I have legal custody of Leah, she isn’t leaving this house. Now be off. I’ve already said you aren’t welcome here.”

  Leah started whimpering at the sound of his raised voice. Once Hugh was gone, Martin scooped her into his arms. “Sssh, lassie, it’ll be all right. I swear. There now.” He bounced her gently, looking at Jessie over his daughter’s head. “I’ll sort out this mess somehow. Take good care of her, Jessie, for however long it takes.”

  * * *

  The aroma of simmering applesauce greeted Chelle as she stepped into the warmth of the Fultons’ cottage. Kendra shifted little Davy to one arm and gave the pot a stir. “Come in and get warm. Would you mind holding him while I get this off the stove?”

  Kendra looked a bit flustered today. Chelle took off her cloak and reached for the little boy, who immediately squealed in protest. Chelle gave him to his grandmother, who sat in the rocker by the window.

  Mrs. Fulton put down her knitting and settled Davy on her lap. “Come here, then, lad. Have you been to the store, Chelle?”

  “No. I thought I’d call here and get warm first.”

  Mrs. Fulton exchanged a look with her daughter. Was it just the stove’s heat, or was Kendra blushing?

  “You likely haven’t heard, then. I-I’m sorry. I—”

  Chelle’s stomach plummeted. “Don’t be sorry. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

  Kendra set the applesauce pot on the table and took a deep breath. “Well, I was at Bingham’s about an hour ago, and there were two Carston girls there. I didn’t know them, but one called the other Delia.

  “They were telling Mrs. Bingham that there was a fight at the Rainnie place this morning. Mr. Rainnie’s in jail for assaulting Hugh Paxton.

  “They had plenty to say about you as well. They said you and Mr. Rainnie disappeared together at the harvest dance, and that there’s talk going around about what happened at the Wilsons’ the night Mrs. Wilson died, that her husband is saying it should be looked into.

  “It’s all because of the Paxtons’ suit, of course, and I’m sure Mr. Rainnie was provoked, but…” Kendra’s voice died away in embarrassment. She knew about Chelle’s growing closeness with Martin and had teased her about him often enough.

  Chelle’s hands turned icy. If Martin had assaulted Mr. Paxton, he must have been goaded into it, and Mrs. Wilson’s death had been nothing but a natural tragedy, but the facts would be twisted to suit the Paxtons’ malice, as would Chelle’s few minutes alone with Martin at the dance.

  “That would be Delia Putnam, and the other girl was likely Win Fuller. I met them at the dance, and it wouldn’t break my heart if I never saw them again. They resented my dancing with Martin, and they showed it.” She got shakily to her feet. “I’d better forget the store and get home. I’m sure Jessie will be in to see us. I want to know what really happened with Mr. Paxton. If he was badly hurt—”

  “If he had been, likely those two cats would have said so.”

  Clinging to that hope, Chelle hurried back to the forge. She wasn’t surprised to find Jessie there with Leah, and the family looking shocked.

  “Jessie, I called at the Fultons’, and they told me Martin was in trouble. What happened?”

  Jessie confirmed what Kendra had said. “I don’t know what Hugh said, but Martin knocked him out cold.”

  Colin wore a grim smile. “For a lad who hasn’t used them much, Martin has a knack with his fists. Once he’s free, he should consider trying his luck in the prize ring.”

  Caroline glared at him. “Hush your foolishness, Colin. So Martin’s been arrested, then, Jessie?”

  “Aye. The bailiff came for him about half an hour ago. When you put this together with that fight at the pub, it’s likely the assault charge will stick.”

  “Mr. Paxton will see to that, I’m sure.” Chelle fought the urge to throw something. Of course, Leah was the one with the least to say and the most to lose in all this. “I’m going to see Martin right now.”

  * * *

  The Mallonby lock-up stank of urine and stale beer. Once the door to the cramped corridor closed behind Matthew Grant, the village’s aging bailiff, the only light came from the small barred windows high on the walls of the jail’s two cells.

  Martin moved into the square patch of dusty sunlight falling on his bunk, grateful for its slight warmth. The November chill seeped right through the damp stone walls.

  The farm would be taken care of. Gerry would come back to look after things; he hadn’t found other work yet. Martin had sent a message to him when he’d come into the village with the bailiff.

  As for Chelle, he’d asked Jessie to take the news to the forge herself. There wasn’t much more he could do but wait for his hearing. That wouldn’t take place until the next magistrate’s court on the first of the month, a week away.

  He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and breathed a curse. This would hurt Chelle more than anyone else. He regretted that much more than planting his knuckles in Hugh’s face. If it weren’t for Chelle and Leah, he’d be glad he’d punched the sanctimonious old goat.

  Chelle. She’d put the music back in his life and the life back in his heart, but did she feel the same? He felt her passion with each kiss. She had fire in her, that was for sure and certain but he sensed uncertainty, too. Why wouldn’t a young, radiant lass like her think twice about taking on a widower with a child? With her light feet and that smile, Chelle deserved her share of dances and flirtations before she settled down. He didn’t doubt that she’d had the lads on a string at home.

  It would drive him crazy to sit here, helpless, and worry about Leah, so Martin called up an image in his mind of Chelle as she’d looked at the dance, with her smooth shoulders rising above the bodice of her blue gown, damp curls clinging to her forehead, her sapphire eyes glowing. Then he opened his eyes and saw her in the flesh, standing outside his cell with a blanket tucked under one arm, as if he’d conjured her there by magic. He hadn’t even heard Matthew let her in. “Chelle.”

  She pushed back the hood of her blue cloak and lit up the dingy corridor with her bright hair. “Jessie told us what happened. Are you all right?”

  Her concern made Martin feel like even more of a fool. He crossed the cell, took
the blanket from her and tossed it on the bunk, then reached through the bars to take her hands. “Me? I’m fine. Did Jessie have Leah with her? How did she seem?”

  Chelle laced her fingers between his and smiled, a soft, encouraging smile that worked wonders to ease the turmoil inside him. “You’re cold. Leah is fine. She hasn’t had time to miss you.”

  “I already miss her.” With an effort of will, Martin released Chelle’s hands. He wanted to hold her as much as he hated having her see him like this. “I’m surprised Matthew let you in here. He shouldn’t have.”

  “He had no choice. You’re allowed visitors.”

  “I’m glad to see you, lass, you know that, but you shouldn’t be here. Hugh doesn’t need any more ammunition against you.”

  She tilted her chin at him. “Don’t be silly. I’m already ruined in his eyes. So you really knocked Mr. Paxton out.”

  “Aye.” In spite of the whole mess, Martin couldn’t keep back a grin. “It was a real satisfaction.”

  “Oh, Martin.” Laughter and regret mingled in Chelle’s voice. “Dad says that when you get out of here, you should take up boxing. You don’t know your own strength.” The laughter faded. “When are you going to get out of here?”

  “My hearing will be next week, in the same session as the custody suit. I’ll probably get another week or two from the magistrate. I only hit Hugh once. He wasn’t seriously hurt.” Martin looked into Chelle’s eyes, wanting to reassure himself as well as her. “Whatever happens, I’m not going to lose Leah. If Hugh wins custody, it won’t be for long. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure of that.”

  Chelle wrapped her arms around herself under her cloak and looked away. “Martin, what did Hugh say to you? Was it something about me?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He took her chin in his hand and made her meet his gaze. “I’m as determined to keep you as I am to keep Leah. Make no mistake about that, lass.”