“No.” She steeled herself, using the last of her faltering strength to force the
words out. “Marriage is the only way to stop it. Christopher didn't do this to me.
Father did. I've only known Christopher for two weeks.”
“I see,” the bishop replied, understanding dawning on his friendly, wrinkled
face, “and those scars are much older, aren't they?”
“Some are ten years old,” she elaborated, straining to move her numb lips.
“I'm sorry for all you've had to endure,” he murmured, gentle and sincere.
“Thank you.” Her eyelid began twitching, so she closed her eyes.
“Do you need me to summon anyone to treat your injuries?” the bishop
asked, his voice not quite steady.
Katerina shook her head. “They're not as bad as they look,” she replied. “I don't need anything but sleep and to marry Christopher tomorrow.”
“Very well. Rest my dear.” He turned to leave the room.
Once more Katerina spoke softly, voicing the question that had been
lingering in the back of her mind since Christopher proposed this mad plan. “Is it
wrong of me to ask this of him?”
The bishop turned and regarded her without speaking for a long moment.
Though his expression remained grim, something of hope seemed to flare in his
blue eyes. “It's good of you to think of it. He's your only hope though.”
Raw despair clenched her heart. “I know. I wish I had something to offer in
return.”
“You will someday when you're better.” He patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“Will my heart ever heal?” she asked in a weak, faltering voice.
“If you want it to, if you pray and try with all your might to trust, to let go of
the past, you can grieve for a season, and then begin to improve. I've seen it.” He
seemed to consider for a moment. “Have you ever been loved?” he asked at last.
“Before my mother's death, she loved me.” For a moment, Katerina could
have sworn that warm, soothing arms wrapped around her.
“Then there's hope,” the bishop said with a sad smile. “Remember her love.
It will show you the way.”
That makes sense, but I'll have to consider it later. I'm at the end of mystrength. “Yes.”
“And it really wasn't Mr. Bennett who hurt you?” he asked again.
“No. It really wasn't,” she choked out.
“All right. You rest then. I need to talk to him and to my nephew. I think, in
the morning, you'll be free of this danger for good.”
“Thank you.” Glad she no longer needed to remain conscious, Katerina
finally passed out.
The Right Reverend William Cary wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and
left her to rest, following his nephew and Christopher to the kitchen. There, he
found James slurping a bowl of soup at the rough-hewn table. Christopher
