The Damaged Bride

Chapter 10

~Marcus' memory~

“Well my boy,” Douglas had said, a smile that Marcus guessed was meant to be genial, but came across as menacing on the older man’s face. “I’ve come to take a look at my new property.”

“Your property?” Marcus balked. “What in the hell do you mean?”

“Well,” Douglas replied, pulling out a small account book. “As you know, I’m sure, at the time of his death your father was deeply in debt to me.

“According to my little book here,” he continued, licking his thumb and flipping through the pages, “I am owed quite a sum.”

“How much?” Marcus asked, steeling himself for the blow.

“At last count, taking in interest,” Douglas said, obviously taking great joy in his undertaking. “It comes to six-hundred pounds, eight shillings and nine pence.”

Marcus had felt his heart stop at the amount. He couldn’t even afford to pay a tenth of it. His mind raced trying desperately to think of any way he could find that kind of money.

“My boy,” Douglas said, interrupting his thoughts. “I have taken into account the value of this house, and the tenants and cattle and all totaled when it is all seized you will still owe me two-hundred pounds, three shillings and sixpence.”

“I have nothing that even comes close to that,” Marcus said, slumping back into his chair.

“Well then,” Douglas replied, rubbing his hands together. “I will have to contact the magistrate and proceed with the seizure of your land and property and you will most likely be indentured to me for the remaining sum… possibly four to five years.”

As the old man stood to leave, Marcus was able to shake himself out of his self-imposed trance.

“Wait,” he’d said, reaching his hand towards the departing man’s back. “There must be some agreement we can come to. Perhaps a percentage of my harvests for the next ten to fifteen years.”

“I’m sorry, my boy,” O’Flagnery said, turning slowly back to face Marcus. “That just will not do. I do happen to have a proposal that might, mind you might, cover your debt to me.”

“What is it?” Marcus asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear what the odious man in front of him had to say.

“Perhaps we can discuss it over some port,” Douglas said, gesturing towards a side table. “My throat seems to be a little dry.”

With trembling hands Marcus retrieved the bottle, poured a tankard full and offered it to Douglas. How he wished he could simply throw the wine into the old man’s face, but he knew he must control his pride and temper, if Douglas chose he could just take everything and everyone he held dear and make himself a slave in the process.

“Ah,” the old man said, smacking his lips together after downing a large gulp. “Not bad. Not as good as the port we make at O’Flagnery Hall, but not bad.”

“What is it you want to propose?” Marcus asked, barely keeping a tremor of anger out of his voice.

“As you know my boy,” Douglas said, staring into his cup. “I am well within my rights to take over this lodge and the land belonging to it, but I am an old man and it would take a lot of time and effort to catalog it and everything in it. Then of course there are the tenants that would have to be put out and replaced with ones of my choosing.”

“Replace the tenants, why?” Marcus interrupted.

“Because they are loyal to the O’Connor clan not the O’Flagnery’s,” Douglas yelled, slamming his hand on the arm of his chair.

“They are good people,” Marcus pled. “If you turned them out they would die of starvation and exposure. You cannot do that to them.”

“I can do what I like,” the old man barked.

“Yes,” Marcus breathed, knowing what Douglas said was true. “But there must be something I can do. I know you have always wanted this land, it has always been twice as productive as your own, but do not take it out on the people whose families have worked it for generations.”

“Yes, your land is better,” Douglas acknowledged. “But what mine lacks in quality we make up for in quantity, which is why I am richer and hold more power in this county.”

When Marcus did not immediately reply, Douglas continued.

“I have no sons of my own, as you know,” he said staring into his cup, “and my worthless daughter only saw fit to bare one child, a girl, before she died. The girl is seventeen years of age and in need of a husband, and I am in need of great-grandsons to leave my considerable property to.”

He paused here to sip his port and, no doubt, to allow Marcus to come to the realization of what he was proposing.

“I will allow you to marry my granddaughter, and in exchange you will fill her belly with children, boys, to be my heirs,” Douglas said, speaking as if he were trading cattle. “For that, I will forgive all debt owed by your father, so long as the bairn is born before the end of the first year of your marriage.”

Douglas finished, emptying his cup in a final swallow.

Without asking, he stood and moved to refill it before returning to his seat across from Marcus.

“If there is no child,” Douglas said, his back to Marcus, “I will summon the magistrate and pull this lodge down around your ears. Then I will salt the earth so that nothing will grow on it for a hundred years.”

“What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” Marcus asked, hopeful at the thought.

“Bridgette will do as she is told,” Douglas said, not looking up from his drink. “Unlike your father, who let you grow up with this intolerable pride and arrogance, she knows her place.”

And with that, the deal had been made. Within a week Marcus had his new wife.