Elizabeth hadn’t the strength to stand anyway. Rourke and Anabelle were now in God’s hands. She sank into the chair farthest from Father’s desk.
He stood behind the other, unblinking gaze fixed on her. “Why?” When she didn’t answer, he clarified. “Why would you send away your maid?”
At least he had acknowledged that Anabelle no longer belonged to him. Nor did she belong to Elizabeth. “She is not mine.”
“Of course she’s yours. What is wrong with you, Lizzie? Have you lost your mind?”
The rebuke gave her strength. “On the contrary. I have found it.”
He scowled, crossed to the decanter of brandy, and poured a glass.
“Now is no time to drink spirits, Father.”
He whipped around. “Do you think to tell me what I can and cannot do?”
“I can’t tell you anything. Neither could Mother.”
He stiffened. “Leave your mother out of this. Tonight’s debacle is entirely about your willful defiance.” He downed the brandy in a single gulp. “Mr. Finch informed me that you insinuated you would get no inheritance. I told him it was another attempt on your part to dissuade him from marrying you.”
“I did not insinuate. I stated a fact.”
His face flushed red. “You lied.”
In the past, such an accusation would have sent her into a cowering panic. Tonight she felt only calm. “No, sir, I did not lie. I told the truth. I discussed the matter with Aunt Virginia and arranged to have the inheritance distributed to another more deserving person.”
“What?” His hand shook. “Do you know what you have done?”
“I know exactly what I have done. How could I take money for a dowry when my brother needs it? Aunt Virginia agreed. Late this afternoon she hired an attorney to draw up the paperwork.”
Father’s jaw literally dropped open, and all the fire went out of him. “Your brother?”
“Yes, Charlie.”
He dropped into the other chair, shoulders slumped, and rubbed his forehead. “You gave your inheritance to Charlie?”
She nodded. “Aunt Virginia will verify it.”
He blinked, once or twice at first and then more rapidly. His Adam’s apple bobbed above the loosened cravat. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” His voice came out ragged. “I thought you were defying me.”
“Most of the time I was. I could never marry Mr. Finch, not after he tried to take liberties with me.”
His head shot up, the old fire rekindled. “He did what?”
She almost regretted saying that. “He forced himself upon me.”
“How?”
“He attempted a kiss I neither wanted nor encouraged.”
“Oh.” Father waved a hand. “Is that all?”
“That is quite enough. It proves he does not love me, though I can’t imagine why he insisted on marrying a woman who despised him.”
“You would grow to love him.”
“Like Mother grew to love you?” she snapped.
“Precisely.”
She didn’t. The words were on the tip of Elizabeth’s tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them, for they were spiteful, hurting, and the diary had ended years ago. Rourke’s admonition came to mind again. Love does right even when it hurts.
“You know I love Rourke O’Malley.”
Father’s face twisted with distaste. “He is not good enough for you.”
“He loves me. He waited four years for me. He is a good and honest Christian man.”
“He is a barefoot Bahamian wrecker with no future.”
This argument was old. She knew every point. “Many wreckers came here from the Bahamas. Some have made a goodly fortune.”
“Not Mr. O’Malley. He still sails his father’s sloop.”
“The fastest ship in the fleet.”
“And the oldest. He will never earn enough to give you a life of comfort.”
She would not give up. “Love is comfort enough.”
“You will think differently when your hands are raw from cooking and cleaning all day, when the parade of babies has worn you out, and your husband is gone for months at a time. This is not the life you have been raised to lead. You don’t even know how to cook or clean.”
“I’ll learn.”
Father poked again and again until it hurt. “Will you learn to do without food and clothing and shoes? Will you die in childbirth because he can’t afford to hire a physician?”
“Yes, yes, I would do all that,” she cried, hating the bits of truth in what he said.
“Enough, Elizabeth. I will not see my only daughter throw her life away.”
“I’m not your only daughter.” The words struck with the force of a tidal wave.
He stiffened. “What did you say?”
Though her heart pounded and her breath grew short, she could not deny the truth now. “I know about Anabelle.”
His hand trembled until he fisted it. “What about your maid?”
She took a deep breath. “Anabelle is not my maid. She is my sister. My half sister.”
All the color drained from his face. “Whatever she told you, it’s a lie.”
Elizabeth felt eerily calm. “She didn’t have to tell me a thing. Mother spelled it out in her diary.”