My tongue swept across my dry lips. The change in Mr. Young’s smile and the way his eyes turned darker as a result of my actions were not lost on me. A strange feeling pulled from my lower stomach and caused me to sway on my feet. Ayana was by my side with her arm there to steady me.
“Miss Quinn, are you okay?”
With my eyes still fixed on Mr. Young, I swallowed hard before replying, “I am fine.” Focusing my attention on Mr. Hathorne, I asked, “How it is you are aware that I have left a dinner party?”
“There is no time for that, my dear. For what I am about to tell you is going to change your entire life and possible lead you into danger.”
“Danger?” I gasped.
“James, are you sure now is the time to—”
“I’ve stood back for seventeen years and kept my silence, Jonathon. I cannot keep my silence any longer. My daughter is in danger.”
My head pulled back in surprise. “Daughter, Mr. Hathorne? But you have only two sons.”
Taking a step closer to me, his face softened. “No, my dear. I have a daughter. A beautiful daughter and she is standing in this very room.”
Part 2 – Quinn
My parasol provided a much-needed relief from the blazing sun. I did not think I had ever experienced such heat before in the whole of my seventeen years. The citizens of Salem were nearly melting in the heat, and my mother’s only concern was if I was wearing proper undergarments. I adored my mother so, but at times we disagreed on a variety of things. Like today. It was too hot for a camisole, and she insisted that was even more of a reason to wear one.
She was my best friend and oftentimes felt like the only parent I had. Yet there were moments when she seemed to be a mi
llion miles away.
Standing next to me, my mother listened while her closest friend, Mrs. Gertrude Shaw, gossiped. The scuttlebutt was about a new family that had moved from Boston to Salem. The Young family.
I rolled my eyes at Mrs. Shaw’s insistence in noting that the Youngs were a very wealthy family from Boston, yet they had purchased a fairly modest home in Salem. There were whispers of the family hiding from something or someone due to the hasty move from Boston.
It was hearsay, as far as I was concerned. Yesterday evening, I had spoken with the very handsome Jonathon Young. My stomach had dipped each time he smiled at me. I would dare to say my breath even caught for a moment when he first spoke directly to me. But only a moment. I had no time to ponder such things. It would be foolish to even dare dream of that kind of happiness. Not now. Not with the information that had been thrust upon me last night.
Inhaling a deep breath, I pushed all thoughts of Jonathon Young out of my mind. I had more concerning things to worry about.
The truth.
“Quinn, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not acting like yourself.”
Lifting my eyes, I attempted to smile at my mother. It was hard to act normal knowing she had lied to me all these years. Kept a secret so damning, it would surely ruin both of us were it ever to be exposed. Everything had begun to make sense last night while I lay in my bed, lost in my newfound knowledge. The way my father had treated me all my life. The disappointment in his eyes when he gazed upon me. I hadn’t noticed the distance when I was younger, but the older I got, the more it had become clear. Especially the last few months. My own father despised me. Now I knew why.
I was not his child.
Not of his own flesh and blood.
It was apparent after I looked more closely at Mr. Hathorne. Our eyes were the same deep blue. Our hair the same shade. I even carried his mother’s name of Elizabeth. A request he had made to my mother that she obliged, for it turns out James Hathorne and my mother were more than lovers. They were soul mates, bound by a love so strong they would continue to meet in secret over the years so that James could learn all about his daughter. Neither of them ever falling out of love with one another, yet tied to arranged marriages that had been thought to bring great wealth to both families. Because of the pain brought upon so many, I vowed I would never allow myself to be forced into a loveless marriage. Not if it meant living a secret life the way my mother had. Pregnant by her lover before she was even married to the man I’d called my father for seventeen years.
Staring into her eyes, I searched for answers, silently begging her to tell me the truth.
“Do you carry secrets, Mother?”