Betrayer.. Part 6

Part 6

The hearth fire flickered low. Long shadows slipped across the floor. In her sleeping alcove, huddled under an old feather quilt, Jane turned her face to the wall.

How could Edward be so cruel? she asked herself for the thousandth time.

How could he lad me to believe that he card for me, that he LOVED me?

Jane pressed her face into the pillow to muffle her sobs. She had gone to bed early, hoping her parents wouldn't see how upset she was. Hours passed now. A pale half moon was high in the late night sky, and Jane was still wide awake, still tossing in her narrow bed, crying softly and thinking about Edward with anger and disbelief.

I trusted Edward, she thought. I believed everthing he said. I risked my reputation for him. And all the while he was engaged to another girl. Breathing hard, Jane rolled over and stared at the glowing embers in the fireplace across the room. Her secret meetings with Edward Fier rolled through her mind. She remembered his word, his touch, his kisses.

Edward always seemed truthworthy, she thought miserably. So honest and upright.

So good.

Susannah kicked off the quilt and pushed at the pillow, punching it with both hands.

I will never truth anyone again, she told herself bitterly. NEVER!

Across the commons, firelight blazed in the windows of Paul Fier's two story house. In the dining room Paul was standning at one end of the oak table, gripping the nack of a hand-carved chair.

Paul's son Edward glared at him defiantly from the other end of the table.

Paul was big and broaded shouldered, an imposing man who looked as if he culd wrestle a bull and win. He had straight black hair that fell below his ears and bushy black eyebrows over small dark eyes that seemed to be able to pierce through anything.

Paul's face was red and almost always set in a hard frown. He was so powerful in appearance his expression so angry, that most people in Wickham were afraid of him, which didn't displease him in the least.

Standing with his back to the fire, Paul unfastened the long row of brass buttons down the gront of his black doublet, his dark eyes studying Edward.

"I will not obey you, Father," Edward insistedd, his voice trembling. He had never defied his father. He knew it was wrong.

Paul stared across the table, his features set. He didn't reply.

"I cannot obey you, Father," Edward said when his father did not reply. "I will not marry Anne Ward." Edward gripped the back of the chair. He hoped his father could not see his trembling knees.

"You will marry this girl in the autumn," Paul said in his deep baritone. "I have arranged the marriage with her father."

He turned away from Edward no indicate that the discussion had ended. Picking up a poker he jabbed at the logs in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks flying up the brick chimney.

Edward swallowed hard.

Can I do this? he asked himself. Can I stand up to my father? Am I strong enough?