Forbidden Fire Read Online Free Page B

the squire was dead and buried, and Marissa could not begin to understand what had happened.
    â€œMary—”
    â€œOh, how could he have done such a thing to me!”
    â€œMary, what in God’s name has he done!”
    And at last Mary began to talk, trying to explain the substance of her father’s will. Mary had not yet reached her majority. And so her father had arranged for a guardian, someone to control her fortune until she had reached her twenty-fifth birthday. Someone Mary did not even know, one of his American associates. And there was even more to it than that.
    â€œWhat?” Marissa demanded blankly, trying to assimilate everything Mary was saying.
    â€œHe betrothed me to this man!”
    â€œNo one can force you to wed this man, Mary.”
    Mary groaned anew, burying her face in her elbow where it lay upon the arm of the chair. “Marissa, if I do not wed him, he is free to control my money until my thirtieth birthday! He will be free to take over the house—everything!”
    â€œIt can’t be so!” Marissa assured her, and Mary looked to her with hope. “We’ll talk with your father’s solicitors and they’ll fix things for you.”
    â€œNo, they won’t! They’ll be loyal to my father. I don’t even know any of his solicitors. Father never involved me with business, and I never worried about it.”
    â€œWe’ll fix things.”
    â€œI can’t talk to his solicitors.”
    â€œI can. I’ll call them, and say that I am you!”
    Marissa did so, and she was heartily disturbed. Everything that Mary had told her was true. They were in a desperate situation.
    The squire had even arranged for a special marriage license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. No banns needed to be cried if Mary chose to marry her guardian. The deed could be done immediately so that the man need hardly stay away from his business in America.
    To Jimmy O’Brien’s credit, he swore that night that the money meant nothing to him, nothing at all. He loved Mary. His place was nothing but a hovel now, but he would work hard, so hard, and he would save the money to buy his own shop. He would live with Mary anywhere, and with their faith in their love, they would survive.
    The two held hands before the fire in the squire’s library and stared into the flames, bliss in their eyes. Marissa, with her own problems facing her, left the two of them alone.
    But by the next week, Mary had caught a fever. She was desperately ill, and Marissa spent all her time at her bedside, bargaining with God, pleading, promising that she would do anything to save her. Jimmy, too, sat by her bedside.
    Mary had not just rescued Marissa from the coal dust. She had been her friend. Marissa had never forgotten the bitterness of those years, or ceased to long for something better for the poor people there. She was afraid that she would carry some of the bitterness and hatred to her grave. But Mary had given her hope, and allowed her dreams to fly.
    There was little that Marissa would not do for her.
    Mary took a turn for the better. The doctor warned Marissa then that Mary was not strong, that she needed to take the gravest care. She must avoid chills, she must not work too hard.
    Jimmy and Marissa were desolate. Jimmy did love Mary, enough to give her up. There was no way for Mary to go and live in a hovel—whether love flourished or no.
    â€œI can’t have her, and I can’t give her up,” Jimmy said, his freckled face lean and haggard and anguished. “I can’t leave my Mary!”
    â€œI can get a new job, I can do something—” Marissa began.
    â€œAnd support us all?” Jimmy scoffed. “Ah, Marissa, you are spirit and strength and wonderful courage and beauty, and I love you as deeply as does Mary. But Marissa! You’ve your uncle to care for. There’s nothing left to be done. Aye, but there is! I shall wait for Mary