“Margaret,” she said flatly. “If you did not want us to meet, you would not have arranged his coming here. You show me one path, then chastise me for taking it. At least tell me what it is you want, so I can make an intelligent choice.”
“What I want,” she repeated thoughtfully, as if regretting her earlier outburst. “For now all I want is that you should meet, and let nature take it’s course.”
Again Mary felt hostility rising inside her. She wanted to love this woman, and help her if she could. But not as a puppet, and not in that way. “Nature’s course! Are you suggesting that I---”
“Easy, lass. I’m suggesting no such thing.” Her voice was cool and soothing. “Just get to know him. Do what you feel. Nay, child, that’s not what I mean. I think you’ll find he has a certain charm. You may even like him.”
Mary rested her chin on her fists, and let out a deep breath, bewildered. Of all the strange fates and traps: to be given a set of natural parents after feeling she had none, only to find that one was detestable, and the other wanted him dead.
But the son, her half-brother. . .here was a mystery. What was his guilt, or innocence, and what would he feel towards her? Whereas Michael had known all along that she was not his sister, Stephen would have no notion that she was.
Of one thing only was she certain: she had had enough of violence and hatred. She decided she would judge this man by himself alone. And if he turned out to be a friend, so much the better. Whatever the case, she would not take part in any scheme to hurt him. And perhaps..... As if divining the thought, the old woman broke in upon her reverie.
“Just remember this. You must not tell him that he is your brother, and you must not use my name.”
“But why?”
“Why? Because if his father learns of it he will kill us both.”