The Damaged Bride

Chapter 13

“Come,” Marcus called hearing a knock on his door.

“May I speak with you privately sir?” Moira asked, stepping into the room.

Nodding his consent, Marcus put down his quill and leaned back in his seat waiting for Moira to speak.

“What is it?” he asked her when she’d finally taken a seat.

“Sir,” she said angrily, sitting straight and formal in her seat. “I think you should know something very important.”

Marcus looked back at Moira, seeing the concern in her eyes.

“Yes?” Marcus said, gesturing for her to speak.

“Well, sir,” she said, not sure how to broach the subject that weighed heavily on her mind. “I think that we need to have a serious conversation about your wife. While Christine and I were putting her in a clean night dress, we found something very disturbing.”

“Disturbing?” Marcus asked, suddenly intrigued.

“Bridgette’s back is covered with scars, sir. From the look of them, some are several years old, but others look to be more recent.” Moira explained crossing herself. “Sweet Mother Mary and Joseph, I have never seen anything like it.”

“Do you think O’Flagnery did it to her?” Marcus asked.

“Who else could it have been?” Moira asked. “You saw what he did to her today.”

“Yes,” Marcus said rubbing his hand over his face, “I did.”

“Marcus,” Moira said, speaking to him like she’d done when he was a boy. “That poor girl has been through hell. It wasn’t just her back sir, every inch of her body is covered with bruises and scars. I think, despite what we may have believed, she is just as innocent as she appears.”

“Let me show you something,” Marcus said standing and retrieving a small box in the corner. When he returned he laid out all of the things Bridgette had given him the night before.

“Your dear mother’s things,” Moira gasped looking down at the assortment. “Where did you ever find them?”

“Bridgette gave them to me last night,” Marcus explained, sitting back down and looking as perplexed as Moira felt. “She said they were her wedding present to me.”

“Bridgette?” she asked, gingerly touching one of the rings. “Where did she get them from?”

“Apparently,” Marcus explained leaning forward, toying with one of the rings, “my father lost them to Douglass O’Flagnery gambling. Bridgette said her grandfather got him drunk and cheated him out of them, so she stole them back from him to return to me.”

“She told you that?” Moira asked looking up at him. “Is that why he came here today? To get them back?”

“Yes,” Marcus sighed, sitting back in his chair, still fingering the ring.

“And she refused to tell him she’d returned them to you despite the beating he gave her,” Moira stated, her admiration for her young mistress growing.

“I know,” Marcus replied, replacing the box. “I didn’t know what to think of her either after she gave me these. I honestly thought she was just as evil as Douglas, trying to manipulate me with them, but now I’m not so sure.”