first time, Isabella spoke.
âRuby is a harlotâs name,â she all but shrieked. âYou may think that your fortune lies between your legsââ
Murd silenced his daughter with the slight raise of his hand.
Ruby had heard enough.
âI have never been in this house before,â she said, rising from her chair. âAnd I will never be here again.â
âSit down,â Murd instructed. âYou will hear me now, or you will hear me later. But later will be too late for Edwinâs well-being. If he suffers, I trust you will remember that I brought you into my home today, and you acted in a manner that brought him harm.â
A shadowy veil was dropping round her. Ruby sat. Yet there was still spirit within her, and Murd understood that she would fight him.
He was accustomed to balancing chances and calculating odds in his mind by studying the faces of those who sat opposite him in negotiations. He was able to form conclusions quickly and arrive at cunning deductions. Now was the time to move to the marrow of his persuasion.
âDo you have genuine care for Edwin, or does nothing move you beyond your own selfish longings?â
âI have feelings for Edwin.â
Murd signaled with his eyes, and Isabella spoke again: âThere is no hope that you will ever call him your own. He is promised to me.â
âThat is absurd,â Ruby scoffed.
âIs it?â Murd asked. Then he handed Ruby a letter.
Dear Mr. Murd,
Thank you for welcoming me into your home and sharing your family and friends so graciously with me. I am most appreciative.
Sincerest wishes,
Edwin        Â
Ruby face coloured and she breathed quickly for a moment. She recognized Edwinâs hand from the inscription in the book that he had given to her.
The moment passed.
âWhat of it?â she said. âPerhaps Edwin was a guest in your home for dinner.â
But there was a kernel of doubt in her eyes.
âThen how do you explain this?â Murd asked, his last word sounding like the hiss of a snake.
He handed Ruby a second letter.
Dear Miss Murd,
Thank you for the pleasure of your company this past Saturday evening. You have brought the most beautiful music into my life. I envision a future with laughing children learning to read and write.
Very truly yours,
Edwin        Â
Ruby trembled. Murd saw the movement and knew its value. The hook had been baited and was lodged firmly in the mouth of the fish. All that remained was to skillfully reel the catch in.
âWhat does this mean?â Ruby asked, staring at the letter.
âYou may draw your own conclusions,â Murd said.
Now Isabella was speaking.
âYou poor deluded girl. Where is your arrogance now? You are a cloth for dirty hands, a piece of pollution picked up from the river to be made game with for an hour before being tossed back to its original place.â
Ruby was feeling a bit faint. âCould I have a glass of water, please?â
Isabellaâs face contorted into something more hateful than before.
âA glass of water. Bring a bucket and throw it over her head.â
Murd poured a glass of water from a decanter on his desk and handed it to Ruby. Her face was fully flush now, and he congratulated himself on how well calculated his moves had been in striking at her spirit. The worst that was within him had gained the upper hand. There was something unnatural in the calmness of his voice, spoken while her world was crumbling.
âMarriage is a civil contract,â Murd said. âPeople marry to better their worldly condition. It is an affair of house and furniture, of servants and stables, and the proper breeding of children. Society requires that a young man such as Edwin place himself in a better position by marriage. If Edwin were in a more primitive state, if he lived under a roof of leaves and kept cows and sheep instead of mastering the coal