Storm at Marshbay by Clara Wimberly Page A

often confused and wandering. Doctor Leavy said it was from the medication he gave her for pain.
    I knew it was time to let her rest, but as I started to leave, she spoke again.
      “You are a grown woman now Isabella.  A beautiful young woman.”
    “Are you asking me to believe  its normal for people like the Fitzgeralds to invite someone like me to their ball?  They have no idea who I am. I can’t possibly be of any significance to them. 
    She  smiled. “Oh, they know who you are, have no doubt of that.”
    I sighed. “The dress is lovely and the idea of going to a party at the Fitzgerald home is intriguing. But how can I enjoy it? Going there, meeting people I’ve never seen before— I won’t know how to act. I don’t think I can do it.”
    “You must.” Her stern voice surprised me. “You must promise me.”
    I gave a reluctant nod.
    “Sit here beside me, my dear.”
    I sat on the bed and took both her hands in mine. Her skin felt warm and dry and the bones beneath seemed as small and delicate as a bird’s. As I looked into her eyes, faded now to a pale blue by age and illness, I felt an aching catch in my throat. The person my mother had once been barely existed any more. It was like looking into the eyes of a helpless child.
    “Listen to me, Isabella,” she said. “This could be the chance of a lifetime for you. Do you have any idea of the influence they hold in this community? Or what kind of life you could have living in that house?”
    I started to protest, but she stopped me, pulled her hands from mine and waved them in the air again. “I will hear no more arguments about it. This is what your father wanted. What I want. Whatever you have to do for a chance to live at Marshbay, you must do it. Do you understand?”
    I’d never seen my mother so intense. The medication she took almost hourly kept her emotions tamped down, at the same time keeping her worries and anxieties on a level where they would not, as the doctor put it, damage her fragile health any further. I could see what physical exertion it took for her to push through the effects of the medicine and say these things to me. So it was obvious how important this was to her. I knew she worried about my future and my well-being.
    It was for those reasons that, as curious as I was, I didn’t pursue the matter further.
     “All right, Mother, I will do as you ask.”
    “Anything— any suggestion they make to you as to your future welfare, you will agree. Do you promise me that?”
    “Mother…”
    “Please,” she said, squeezing my hand, “Indulge me.”
    I sighed, bent closer to her and pulled the covers up over her. “Yes, I promise. I will do what’s best for both of us. Don’t worry yourself about it any longer. Rest, now— you need to rest.”
    Relief spread over her face and she closed her eyes. When she quickly drifted off to sleep, I knew I’d made the right decision. But I couldn’t help worrying, wondering how I’d be able to bear the loneliness when she was gone.

Chapter One
     
    I gazed from the windows of the coach that carried me along the sandy road through the South Carolina marsh. Sunset bathed the tops of the palmettos in a warm array of amber light. A spring breeze blew in from the ocean, rustling the marsh grass and stirring rose mallow shrubs. How I loved it here, away from everything civilized.
    Yet I wore a beautiful white gown, my destination an elegant Marshbay ball, to me the epitome of civilization.  My transformation all happened so fast that I was fairly reeling.
    The wind carried the smell of the ocean’s salty tang into the carriage and I drew in a deep breath of it, smiling. What awaited me at Marshbay? My heart beat faster as we neared the house.
    I smoothed my hands down the skirt of my dress. Would the Fitzgeralds find me foolishly presumptuous in such an elegant gown? After all I was only the daughter of a shopkeeper— an unexceptional young woman, growing close to an age when I