father’s massive desk.
John Thomas took her right hand in both of his and said, “It’s Clayton Knight, sweetheart.”
“Clay?” Mary Ellen murmured, fear causing her heart to race. “Clay’s been hurt down at the mill? He’s been in an accident and he…No…no…Today’s Sunday. He wouldn’t be at the mill, he…” Confused, she fell silent, withdrew her hand from his.
Shaking his head in despair, John Thomas gently clasped Mary Ellen’s upper arms and told her, “No. Clay isn’t hurt, Mary Ellen. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Mary Ellen stared at him, totally baffled. “Gone where? Clay isn’t gone. He’s coming over in a little while and—”
“No. No, he’s not.” Her father drew her tenderly into his embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he said, stroking the crown of her blond head, “how can I tell you? What do I say to ease the blow?”
Terrified now, Mary Ellen clung to her protective father and said, “Papa, you’re not making sense. I don’t understand. Where is Clay? I must see Clay!”
“Shhhh,” her father murmured, “my baby, my child. You must start forgetting Clayton Knight as soon as—”
Mary Ellen’s head snapped up. She pulled away from him. “Forget Clay? You’re frightening me, Papa. What has happened? Tell me, please!”
John Thomas looked straight into his daughter’s dark, questioning eyes. “Dearest, I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, but—”
“Darling, you remember Clay came early last evening, before you and your mother came downstairs.” John Thomas drew a tortured breath. “He said he wanted…no needed…to have a talk with me. I assumed he meant to ask for your hand in marriage, so I—”
“He didn’t?” Mary Ellen interrupted anxiously.
John Thomas shook his head sadly. “No. I learned to my horror and total surprise that Knight has been…Oh, God, this is so hard…”
“What? Tell me!” Mary Ellen’s young face was flushed blood red now, and the pulse throbbed madly in her throat.
“Child, the boy we thought we knew so well is nothing at all like we supposed. Clayton Knight marched in last night and went straight to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a bourbon, downed it, and poured another. Then he said…he…he…I tell you Clayton Knight is a heartless cad who—”
“No…no…That’s not true…” Stunned, Mary Ellen protested adamantly, “That isn’t true!”
“It is true. Clayton Knight has—for years—coldly, cleverly used you, used us all.” His face dark with rage, he said, “That boy is an unprincipled, manipulative, obsessively ambitious swine who finally came to me last evening with a diabolical proposal!”
“Dear Lord, this can’t be happening! You’ve gone mad! You don’t know what you’re saying, you don’t, you don’t!”
“I do, darling. That callous bastard held up his whiskey glass as if he were proposing a toast to the future, then said to me, and I quote, ‘It’s time you and I level with each other, Preble. You don’t want me for a son-in-law and I’m not thrilled with the notion of having you for a father-in-law. Help me get what I really want.’ To which I said, ‘Good God, man, you mean Mary Ellen is not what you really want?’”
Her eyes as round as saucers, disbelief and hurt flashing from their dark depths, Mary Ellen gasped, “Clay doesn’t want me, Papa?”
Again John Thomas shook his head sadly. “That lowly seamstress’s son smiled smugly at me and said, ‘I’ve tolerated Mary for years. Get me an appointment to Annapolis and I’ll hand your precious daughter back to you.’”
“No…No…” Mary Ellen shook her head violently, choking on the lump forming in her throat, bright tears stinging her eyes. “No. Clay would never say that. He wouldn’t do that. I know he wouldn’t. He loves me.” Her voice lifted, was shrill. “Clay loves me!”
Her father again put his comforting arms around his
John Thomas took her right hand in both of his and said, “It’s Clayton Knight, sweetheart.”
“Clay?” Mary Ellen murmured, fear causing her heart to race. “Clay’s been hurt down at the mill? He’s been in an accident and he…No…no…Today’s Sunday. He wouldn’t be at the mill, he…” Confused, she fell silent, withdrew her hand from his.
Shaking his head in despair, John Thomas gently clasped Mary Ellen’s upper arms and told her, “No. Clay isn’t hurt, Mary Ellen. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Mary Ellen stared at him, totally baffled. “Gone where? Clay isn’t gone. He’s coming over in a little while and—”
“No. No, he’s not.” Her father drew her tenderly into his embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he said, stroking the crown of her blond head, “how can I tell you? What do I say to ease the blow?”
Terrified now, Mary Ellen clung to her protective father and said, “Papa, you’re not making sense. I don’t understand. Where is Clay? I must see Clay!”
“Shhhh,” her father murmured, “my baby, my child. You must start forgetting Clayton Knight as soon as—”
Mary Ellen’s head snapped up. She pulled away from him. “Forget Clay? You’re frightening me, Papa. What has happened? Tell me, please!”
John Thomas looked straight into his daughter’s dark, questioning eyes. “Dearest, I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, but—”
“Darling, you remember Clay came early last evening, before you and your mother came downstairs.” John Thomas drew a tortured breath. “He said he wanted…no needed…to have a talk with me. I assumed he meant to ask for your hand in marriage, so I—”
“He didn’t?” Mary Ellen interrupted anxiously.
John Thomas shook his head sadly. “No. I learned to my horror and total surprise that Knight has been…Oh, God, this is so hard…”
“What? Tell me!” Mary Ellen’s young face was flushed blood red now, and the pulse throbbed madly in her throat.
“Child, the boy we thought we knew so well is nothing at all like we supposed. Clayton Knight marched in last night and went straight to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a bourbon, downed it, and poured another. Then he said…he…he…I tell you Clayton Knight is a heartless cad who—”
“No…no…That’s not true…” Stunned, Mary Ellen protested adamantly, “That isn’t true!”
“It is true. Clayton Knight has—for years—coldly, cleverly used you, used us all.” His face dark with rage, he said, “That boy is an unprincipled, manipulative, obsessively ambitious swine who finally came to me last evening with a diabolical proposal!”
“Dear Lord, this can’t be happening! You’ve gone mad! You don’t know what you’re saying, you don’t, you don’t!”
“I do, darling. That callous bastard held up his whiskey glass as if he were proposing a toast to the future, then said to me, and I quote, ‘It’s time you and I level with each other, Preble. You don’t want me for a son-in-law and I’m not thrilled with the notion of having you for a father-in-law. Help me get what I really want.’ To which I said, ‘Good God, man, you mean Mary Ellen is not what you really want?’”
Her eyes as round as saucers, disbelief and hurt flashing from their dark depths, Mary Ellen gasped, “Clay doesn’t want me, Papa?”
Again John Thomas shook his head sadly. “That lowly seamstress’s son smiled smugly at me and said, ‘I’ve tolerated Mary for years. Get me an appointment to Annapolis and I’ll hand your precious daughter back to you.’”
“No…No…” Mary Ellen shook her head violently, choking on the lump forming in her throat, bright tears stinging her eyes. “No. Clay would never say that. He wouldn’t do that. I know he wouldn’t. He loves me.” Her voice lifted, was shrill. “Clay loves me!”
Her father again put his comforting arms around his
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