The Bartered Bride. Cheryl Reavis
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understood then. If Frederich had no sons, then who would be his closest male heir after Eli? Frederich might leave a portion of his land to his inept, non-farmer nephew, but he wouldn’t leave the rest of it in the care of his daughters—no man here did if there was any other alternative. His daughters’ uncles might be another matter. Avery would be right there waiting, and if not him, then William—which would be the same thing. William was too timid to go against whatever Avery wanted, even if it were to take over an inherited Graeber farm.
But she didn’t understand Frederich. He was rich enough to send to Germany for a bride if none of the women here appealed to him. The German men and his sister Beata would have surely pointed out how foolish he was being. The young Holt couldn’t breed—nothing but females and dropped litters. And the old one? Why do you want a thirty-year-old wife when you’ve got no sons? they’d ask him.
Why?
She had no accord with Frederich Graeber. She had hardly spoken a dozen words to him in all the time he and Ann had been married. He’d never made her feel welcome at the Graeber house, never seemed to notice Beata’s rudeness to her and Ann both. It couldn’t be because she was aunt to Mary Louise and Lise, she thought. Frederich Graeber didn’t care in the least for his female children. Or if he did, not enough to marry a woman “past her prime.”
Except that she wasn’t past her prime, and before long everyone would know it. She had had no monthly bleeding since November; a horrible and unpredictable nausea had taken its place. She couldn’t control it, and she’d been frantic that Avery would notice. Clearly, he hadn’t.
Oh, God, she thought. What am I going to do?
The back door abruptly opened—her younger brother William bringing the cold March wind in with him. She saw immediately that Avery had been telling the truth about him at least. William knew all about her proposed marriage, because he studiously avoided her eyes. He, too, went to the pie safe in a quest for food.
“Is Eli still out there?” Avery asked him.
“He went home,” William said, looking again at the bare shelf in the pie safe as if he expected something to just magically appear. He was big for his age, taller than Avery, and he was always hungry.
“You got the horses settled?”
“Eli did it—”
“Damn it, boy, you get back out there and make sure those animals are put up right. Eli doesn’t know a damn thing about horses—”
“He does, too,” William interrupted in a rare contradiction of one of Avery’s pronouncements. “It’s farming he don’t know nothing about. He can take care of a horse good.” He glanced at Caroline, but he wouldn’t hold her gaze. He stood awkwardly for a moment. “I…reckon Frederich’s got in the habit of marrying Holt women,” he offered, still avoiding her eyes.
Why am I arguing with Avery about this? she thought.
It was only out of her habit that she sought to defy him. She had no choice about whether a marriage to Frederich Graeber took place, and neither did Avery. It was too late for a deception, even if she’d wanted one, too late for anything but the relentless unraveling of the truth. She was nearly four months pregnant, and no matter how badly she wanted it the secret could not be kept much longer.
“—he don’t think much of Kader Gerhardt,” William was saying.
“What?” she said, startled by the German schoolmaster’s name. Kader Gerhardt was the one man here she had truly respected. He was refined and educated, and she had thought him to be honorable as well. She had earnestly believed that he was somehow different from the rest of the men here. And she had loved him. She had even dared to think that her feelings might be returned, and she had never once perceived what he was really about—when she of all people should have. How could she have Avery for a brother and not have known?
My fault, she thought again. Mine.
There was something in her, something she had said or done that had made him think she wanted—
“—the nieces,” William said for the second time over his shoulder. And he was still looking for something to eat. He made do with a cold biscuit he found in a pan on the kitchen table. “Maybe Frederich wants you so you can teach them. You got enough schooling to do it as good as Kader Gerhardt. Frederich don’t think much of Kader. I heard him tell John Steigermann Kader Gerhardt wasn’t fit to teach German children.”
“William, you haven’t heard a damn thing,” Avery said. “Since when can you talk German?”
“I can’t talk it—but I know what I hear sometimes. You got to if you’re going to live around here, Avery. You should know that.”
“You watch that mouth, boy,” Avery said, choosing to take offense.
“None of this matters!” Caroline suddenly cried. This inane discussion had gone on long enough. There was nothing to be done now except to stop the marriage. “I won’t marry Frederich Graeber, and you can tell him, Avery, or I will.”
“It’s done, Caroline! Weren’t you listening? There’s no backing out now!”
She stepped away from the churn and moved to the pegs by the back door, taking down her wool shawl and flinging it over her shoulders.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“You know where I’m going, Avery!”
“Do you think you can just trot yourself over to the Graebers and tell Frederich the wedding is off?” he said incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Well, the hell you are. What reason are you going to give him? You’re not stupid enough to think you can find somebody with more money and more land than he’s got, I hope? I don’t see anybody else standing in line for the privilege of marrying you, Caroline!”
She sidestepped him, but he blocked the doorway, grabbing her when she tried to get through. His fingers dug into her shoulders; his eyes held hers. She knew the exact moment he realized that there had to be some reason for her determination. Given his own history, his mind did not have to make a great leap to decide what that reason might be.
“What have you been doing?” he said, giving her a shake. “Who have you been sneaking around with?” He roughly turned her around and put his hands on her belly. “By God, you’re already carrying, aren’t you? Aren’t you! Whose is it!”
“What?” she said, because everything was moving too fast and she was terribly afraid now.
He slapped her hard.
“You’re not paying attention, little sister. It’s not what. It’s who. Whose is it!”
“Avery, don’t!” William cried, bouncing from one foot to the other, but not daring to intervene. “Avery!”
“You stay out of this, William!”
“Don’t, Avery—what are you hurting her for?”
“Did you hear that, Caroline?” Avery said, grabbing her by the arm and jerking her around to face him. When she tried to get away, her shawl came off in his hand. He slung it aside and grabbed her arm again, squeezing hard. “William wants to know what I’m hurting you for? Tell him!”
“Avery, please!” she cried, because he was hurting her.
“Avery, please? Who else have you been saying please to?”
“I won’t tell you,” she said, forcing herself to stay on her feet, trying not to cry. She had thought herself prepared for the day Avery would know about her condition, but she wasn’t prepared for the look in his eyes now or for his bellow of rage.
He hit her with his fist, and he would have hit her again if William hadn’t