"And the personal aspects of marriage?" Father McCleary presses. "The intimacy, children?—”
There’s a heavy silence. My cheeks feel like they’re burning. I want to disappear into the floor and never emerge.
“The marriage will be consummated,” Sean says finally. “And the Council has made it clear they’d like a Connelly heir out of this union.”
“Children.” Father McCleary nods. “They are a blessing, and very much to be desired. How soon do you hope to conceive? And how will you raise your children? I understand you live in Dublin, Mr. Flannery. Will you ask Maeve to relocate, or remain here in Boston at her family home? How many children do you hope to have?”
“Father, I haven’t thought about—” I start to say, but once again, Sean speaks, his voice flat and hard.
“I’ve been told to make sure an heir is conceived as soon as possible. The children will be raised however Maeve wants. If the first one is a girl, we keep trying until there’s a boy. Those are my orders.” He pauses. “I was told to stay here in Boston with her. If those orders change, we’ll deal with it then.”
Father McCleary’s mouth is a thin line. “You seem to be a man who follows orders very clearly, Mr. Flannery. Man’s orders, that is. What about God’s?”
“Well,” Sean begins, his mouth twitching. “He hasn’t spoken to me recently, but Connor McBride did, so I’ll be following those instructions until I hear otherwise.”
A small, sharp laugh bursts from me. I can’t help it. It’s the first humor I’ve ever heard from Sean, and it’s so startling that I can’t stop the sound from coming out. I look over at him, alarmed, searching for some humor in his cold face, but there’s none. He’s not looking at me at all.
Father McCleary pauses. “Are you a man of faith, Mr. Flannery?”
“I’m a man who believes in what I can control and see,” Sean says flatly. “I don’t worry about what’s beyond that. It’s out of my hands.”
“I see.” The priest makes another note in his book, and I twist my fingers together again, feeling smaller by the minute. This feels less like a counseling session and more like FatherMcCleary is interrogating Sean, but what else could it be, really? It’s not as if this marriage is a traditional one by any means.
“And do you intend to be faithful to Miss Connelly?” Father McCleary asks. I can’t help but look at Sean. A wife shouldn’t want her husband to be adulterous, but all I can think is that if he has other outlets, he might leave me alone except when necessary. Just the thought of having to sleep with him at all is terrifying, but the idea of being subject to all his potential desires, things that I don’t even know about or fully understand…
“Yes,” Sean says flatly, and I want to slide down in my chair.
“And what about finances? You’re inheriting quite the fortune, Mr. Flannery?—”
“I’ll manage it as instructed.”
I swallow hard. Soon, this terrifying man will control everything. My life, my house, my money—all things I’ve never had any say over anyway, but forhimto be the one in charge now… I feel faintly dizzy, sitting here taking this all in as it becomes more real by the minute.
Father McCleary looks between us, his expression deeply troubled. "I've married many couples in my years as a priest. Some were love matches, some were arrangements. But I've never seen two people look more miserable about the prospect of marriage than you two."
"Then maybe you should refuse to marry us," Sean says, something challenging in his voice.
"Maybe I should," Father McCleary agrees. "But I suspect that would only make things worse for Maeve. At least this way, I can ensure the vows are said properly. Before God, if not before witnesses who care."
Sean shrugs. “Whatever you say, Father.”
He spends the next hour asking us more questions we can barely answer. About our values, our faith, our understandingof marriage as a sacrament. Sean answers in short, clipped sentences, and I answer in whispers. It's the most excruciating hour of my life. By the end of it, I can tell that Father McCleary is no more assured that this marriage is a good idea. But I can also tell that he’s picked up on the fact that it’s going to happen one way or another. I know he’s protecting me by going along with it, despite his feelings on the matter, and I appreciate it more than I can say aloud in front of Sean.
When it's finally over, and we're dismissed, Sean is out the door before I can even gather my coat. I watch him stride across the parking lot to a black Range Rover, as brusquely as if he can’t wait to be gone. He doesn't look back.
Father McCleary touches my shoulder gently. "Maeve, if you need help?—"
"I don't," I say, because what help could he offer? He can’t make it so that I have the things I need to start a life on my own. He can’t keep the Council from coming after me. "Thank you, Father. I'll see you at the ceremony."
I walk out to the waiting SUV, sliding into the back as the door is opened for me. Through the window, I can see Sean's Range Rover still in the parking lot. He's on his phone, his expression hard.
He looks angry. At what? At me? At the situation? At being trapped in a marriage he clearly doesn't want?
After a moment, he ends the call and drives away without a glance in my direction. And as my own car starts to roll out of the parking lot, I feel my stomach sink down to my toes.
I can’t imagine any possible way that this is going to turn out for the better. I’m trapped, with no way out, in an arrangement with a man who clearly hates me.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
