by Fish, Aileen
“Please be patient with me. The year prior, Beck’s cousin, Josiah de Wolfe, built his home on the land. Of course, he and his family insisted the land was theirs and Walter must tear down his structure. Your father and Josiah’s father both became involved, as did their lawyers. At last, the original deed was uncovered revealing the land has been in the hands of the de Wolfes for centuries.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear her father had gone to keep the land, yet it made no sense that he’d stop her marriage because of the outcome. “Again I must ask, how does this involve Beck and me?”
“Your father received word about the deed two days before your wedding. You know he lashed out at anyone who defied him. He had no way to injure the de Wolfes, but Beck was close enough for some small satisfaction.”
Beck had been raised by his uncle due to the death of his parents when he was young. His cousins were like brothers, his aunt and uncle like parents. They would have felt Beck’s sorrow when the wedding plans were abandoned.
“Unbelievable. No, not so. Father would do exactly like that in the heat of the moment. And since it was Walter’s home, he will carry the grudge to his death.”
Eliza had some sympathy for her brother, having his home taken from him. Discovering the confusion in title didn’t make the loss any easier, surely. How he could still blame the de Wolfes for owning the property wasn’t something she could understand. Using his frustration and anger to keep her and Beck apart wasn’t forgivable.
“Beck will want to hear this. I’ll tell him for you. This confirms our suspicions Walter will still interfere, so you’re right. We need to marry right away.” For a moment, Eliza smiled and tried to add some levity to their heavy mood. “Do you suppose it’s proper for a lady to propose to a gentleman in a situation such as this?”
Mama patted her cheek. “You’re not proposing, you’re nudging him to follow through. It’s something you’ll do often as a wife.”
While Mama went to her bedchamber to rest, Eliza sent word to Beck that she must speak to him and he came immediately. As she explained the events, his hands clenched and his face grew red.
“I’ll make him pay for this. How could he do this to his own sister? To his mother—banishing her from her own home?” Beck paced the drawing room at Hartshorne House and forked his fingers through his hair. “No, he doesn’t deserve the chance to explain himself, to apologize. You’re better off without him in your life, and anything I do would stir up trouble we don’t need.”
“Thank you,” Eliza said. She’d been worried what Beck might do. A duel wasn’t beyond what she feared.
“I will purchase a license right away and we may marry in the morning. Try not to worry. We’ll travel to Beckhampton just as soon as the bishop says the words, and your brother won’t be able to do anything to ruin our lives again.”
As soon as Beck left, Eliza ran upstairs to pack. She hadn’t shopped yet, so she only had a few gowns. Mama was asleep, and Eliza didn’t want to disturb her. Susan insisted on folding the gowns properly to reduce wrinkling, and put her shoes in muslin bags to not soil her garments. If Eliza had her way, it would have all been dumped in her bag to be dealt with later.
Marjorie was away for a few hours visiting a friend, so Eliza had no one to share her excitement with. She was bursting with joy and wanted to squeal her delight. Mama wouldn’t object to being wakened, but she needed her rest. They would leave tomorrow on another long trip, and Eliza worried her mother wasn’t strong enough to travel yet.
When her bag was packed, Eliza studied the most recent Le Bon Ton in search of ideas for the new wardrobe she’d acquire once she arrived home in Beckhampton.
Home.
That word had been meaningless for much too long. Once she had her wardrobe in place, she would decorate the house to her liking. Hers and Becks, of course. He’d be included in all of her decisions, although she doubted he’d have an opinion. Who knew how long it had been since the wallpapers had been changed or furniture reupholstered. It could easily be the same way it was when his parents died more than twenty years ago.
Her musings were interrupted by a footman. “His grace sent word for you to come to the church, my lady.”
Why hadn’t he come for her himself? It didn’t matter, for Eliza wasn’t going to waste time sending the messenger back for an answer. Sending the footman for her hat and gloves, she went to wait in the entry hall. A young footman wearing Beckhampton livery waited there. He said nothing, bowing in respect.
With her hat and gloves in hand, Eliza followed the man outside where a carriage awaited. She noticed the lack of crest on the side of the vehicle but thought Beck might not have wanted to draw attention to Eliza until they were married.
Alone in the carriage, Eliza watched the buildings pass, her excitement growing with each block. Then the carriage turned to take the road out of London. “This isn’t the way to Westminster Cathedral,” she said aloud. Then she said it louder, pounding on the wall of the carriage.
“This is the wrong way! Where are you taking me?” Could Beck have gone to St. George’s or one of the other churches? He’d need to see the bishop, though, to purchase their license.
There must be an explanation. Everything would be explained as soon as she saw Beck.
Everything would be fine.
Chapter Seven
With the license safe in his coat pocket, Beck trotted up the steps and knocked on Hart’s door, perhaps a little too loudly in his excitement. “Hello, Billings,” he said to the butler when he opened the door. “Please tell Lady Eliza I’m here.”
Beck walked past him without waiting for an invitation. Then he noticed the butler still had the door open. “Billings? Is anything amiss?”
“I’m not certain, your grace. I understood Lady Eliza to be with you.”
“With me, no. Did she and Marjorie go out? Or Lady Dalcliffe?”
“If you’ll wait in the drawing room, I shall let her grace know you are here.”
Beck wasn’t surprised to hear Eliza had gone out. Most likely, she wanted a special hat to wear, or a bouquet of her favorite flower. Peonies. In her excitement, she probably wanted an entire new wardrobe. He would have the finest seamstress hired to make as many gowns as she wished, once they were safe at home.
Marjorie bustled into the room. “Beck? I thought Eliza was with you.”
“Then she told you? Of course she did. I went to purchase a license so we may be married right away.”
“Yes. And then you sent a servant to bring Eliza to the cathedral.”
He had to force air into his lungs against the tightness of his chest. “No. I did nothing of the sort. What are you talking about?”
“It’s as I said. I came home from morning calls to find Eliza had gone to meet you. One of the servants said you’d sent your carriage for her.”
“Why did he think that? He must have seen the carriage and noticed it wasn’t mine.”
“I doubt the footman gave it another thought. He has no reason to be suspicious.”
He had plenty of reasons, but he’d likely not been warned what to look for. Walter must have discovered where Eliza was. “Did her mother go with her?”
“No, Susan, the maid I assigned her, said that she left by herself. What is it? What do you think happened?” Marjorie stepped closer, grasping his arm. “Is she safe?”
“I suspect her brother. Who else would claim to be me, knowing she wouldn’t question the individual?”
“I don’t understand why he would come for her after all this time. I realize you and Hart wanted Eliza’s return kept quiet, but surely you didn’t think—”
“I wouldn’t put anything past the man. He’s like his father. There’s no sanity in his actions. Is Hart here?”
“No, but he should be home shortly.”
While Beck needed to leave immediately, he needed a plan of some sort, and some idea where to search for Eliza. “Send a servant to Dalcliffe’s town house. When Hart comes
home, tell him I’ve gone after Eliza. I assume her brother is taking her home. Hart can find me on the road.”
“I’ll send word to him now. He might catch you before you’ve ridden out of Town.” She squeezed his arm. “Be careful, Beck. Don’t do anything foolish.”
“Foolish.” He laughed angrily. “Nothing I do to see Eliza safe could be foolish. Tell Lady Dalcliffe I’ll have her home soon.”
Beck was only a few miles outside London when Hart caught up to him. He must have driven his horse as hard as the animal could run. They’d have to stop sooner to rest their horses than Beck had planned.
Dalcliffe’s carriage would travel more slowly than Beck and Hart could, and he’d be required to stop more often. The carriage hadn’t left too long before Beck had, so he should find her soon.
The carriage had stopped at the first two inns where Beck inquired, but the third inn, in Steventon, had only had the stagecoach stop that day, no private conveyances. Beck couldn’t have passed them on the road without noticing, which meant they’d stopped elsewhere.
“Is there another inn in town?” he asked the innkeeper at the third inn.
“Yes. You’ll see it as you leave the village.”
Beck nodded his thanks and went outside where Hart waited. The horses were being watered and given some time to cool down, but Beck couldn’t wait. “They didn’t stop here. He suggests we try the inn down the road. Let’s go now while the horses rest.”
Walking loosened the stiffness in Beck’s thighs but did nothing for the tension throughout the rest of his body. His need to punch Dalcliffe was growing stronger by the minute. Beck’s main reason for having Hart with him was to prevent him from doing something stupid, something that would upset Eliza.
Although, with all he’d put her through, Eliza might care to land a blow or two herself. The idea almost made him smile.
“What’s so funny?” Hart asked.
His friend knew him well enough to notice the twitching of his lips. “I’m imagining Eliza’s first meeting with her brother.” Beck explained what he’d learned about why their wedding had been prevented.
They had to be close. The carriage couldn’t have been that far ahead of them. Dalcliffe was too sure of himself to take an alternate route home, but was he taking her to one of his smaller properties?
It didn’t matter how long it took, Beck would find Eliza this time. Nothing anyone said would convince him she didn’t want to marry him. He knew the truth. She loved him as much as he loved her.
Eliza paced the small room in the house where the carriage had taken her. As she’d come to suspect, Walter was waiting when she’d been brought inside.
He sat in one of the two chairs, a bottle of whiskey on the table beside him, a half-filled glass in his hand. It wasn’t his first glass since she’d arrived.
She wheeled on him, waving an arm to emphasize her anger. “How can you still be angry over what happened? It’s done. Father’s dead so you have the estate itself. You don’t need another house. If he hasn’t already, Peter will buy a property of his own. Mama doesn’t need her dower house, so there’s another that you control.”
“This isn’t about those other properties, it’s about one. That land was ours.” His drinking hadn’t affected his ability to speak. Yet.
“If it was yours, your solicitor would have proven it. The deed is the final word.”
“No, I have the final word. I might not be able to take my revenge against de Wolfe, the Border Wolfe or whatever they call him, but Beckhampton is the second-best solution.” Walter swallowed what was in his glass and poured another.
“Well, you had your revenge four years ago. Nothing you do now matters.”
“It matters to me. No de Wolfe will join our family.”
“I’m not marrying a de Wolfe, I’m marrying Beck. His mother might have been a de Wolfe, but Beck is a Preston.” Eliza questioned her logic in arguing with Walter. Completely sober, he was obstinate and unbending. The more he drank, the more recalcitrant he became.
“You’re not marrying either. I’ve arranged a wedding to Sir Paul Goodknight.”
“I hope you two will be very happy,” she replied, smirking.
“How droll. As I was saying, he’s purchased a license and is waiting for word when we reach Yorkshire.”
“Yorkshire? That will give Beck plenty of time to find me. You should write Sir Paul and inform him of the change in plans.” Eliza trusted Beck to rescue her this time. He would know she hadn’t left him and would be following not far behind. He could arrive at any moment. She sat in the other chair to wait.
Chapter Eight
When the innkeeper at the second Steventon inn hadn’t seen Eliza’s carriage either, Beck and Hart ordered a meal while they decided their next move.
“Somewhere between Hatfield and Steventon, Dalcliffe left the main road,” Beck said, thinking aloud.
“Why would he take the slow route home? He knows you’ll come after Eliza.”
“Why does he make any of the choices he does? I think it more likely they’re resting their horses somewhere other than an inn, where we’d be expected to look.”
“Do you plan to go door to door?”
“We don’t need to. It’s difficult to hide a carriage. Someone will have noticed one that is out of place.” Beck sat back to allow the innkeeper’s wife to set down their plates. “That looks delicious, Mrs.…?”
“Mrs. Smythe, my lord.” She nearly preened at the compliment.
“Mrs. Smythe. You must be an observant person with all these guests coming and going. Did you see a fine carriage in the village today? Perhaps even in the last hour or two.”
“I didn’t, but my son commented on one. He wondered why it was going to Malgrave’s place. The old man died two months ago.”
That sounded exactly like what Beck was looking for. “Where is Malgrave’s place? My wife’s carriage has gotten lost and I’m anxious to find her.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Go back three streets and go right. It’s the last house on your right.”
“Thank you.” Beck tossed his napkin on the table and stood.
“But my lord, you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m certain I’ll regret not enjoying the delicious meal, but I must find my wife.” Beck threw some coins on the table—a generous amount for a simple meal—and followed Hart outside. “Go to the blacksmith and inquire about a carriage. Then come find me, if I don’t find you first.”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Hart said. “Remember, Eliza is with him.”
Beck didn’t acknowledge the comment. He was already running down the street.
He slowed when he neared the end of the street. He doubted Dalcliffe would have someone watching the road, but he’d be a fool if he didn’t take care just in case. He skirted the house looking for the carriage and found it in the field next door, the horses nowhere in sight. That was a plus. Dalcliffe couldn’t follow Beck and Eliza quickly.
Moving stealthily, Beck approached a window close to the front of the house. Curtains were drawn with a small space between them, but years of dust muddied his view inside. He wiped it with his sleeve.
A man sat with his back to the window, his face not visible from that angle. Then Beck noticed Eliza.
Sitting with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, she watched out a front window. That little act warmed him. She trusted him to find her.
Before he barged in, he needed to make certain who else was inside. Dalcliffe had a bottle beside him, so he would be easily brought down, but Beck had no idea what protection Eliza’s brother would have with him. Having seen what he was willing to do out of pride or retribution, caution was wise.
Seeing the other rooms of the single-story cottage were empty, Beck checked the small outbuilding. No one was there. Where had the driver gone? And the servant Marjorie had said took Eliza away. Beck needed to act quickly before anyone returned.
He returned to the window
and watched the brother and sister for a moment. Dalcliffe hadn’t moved. Eliza continued to watch the front of the house. Beck needed to get inside, grab Eliza and get outside before Dalcliffe could react.
There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to make that man think that slowly.
Beck looked around for a sturdy stick. He couldn’t use his gun with Eliza in the room. She might not forgive him for shooting her brother when she wasn’t there to witness it but seeing him shot would scar her forever.
A tree branch lay below a large oak in the yard. Beck picked it up and broke off the smaller branches, then hefted it to test the balance. Confident, he approached the rear door. Finding it open, he tiptoed inside the small kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Down a short hallway was the front room where Eliza and Dalcliffe were.
One slow, quiet step at a time, Beck approached the pair. Eliza glanced his way, her eyes widening when she saw him. He held a finger to his lips. She quickly turned away.
Dalcliffe hadn’t seen her reaction, so Beck moved silently along the wall to slip up from behind. He could see Eliza trembling, and prayed this next step went his way.
When Dalcliffe raised the glass to his lips, Beck swung.
Eliza screamed.
Dalcliffe fell to the floor with a groan but didn’t move. Eliza stood frozen, watching Beck, who checked if her brother was still breathing. “He’s alive. His men will find him soon enough, but we must leave, now.”
She nodded but didn’t move. Beck realized he had the stick in his arm and dropped it before going to Eliza and pulling her tightly in his arms. She clutched him and her shoulders began to shake.
Kissing the top of her head, Beck said, “Shh. You’re safe now. We can return to London before Dalcliffe figures out who hit him.”
While he doubted the man would sleep that long, Beck wanted to calm Eliza’s fears. Outside, a carriage approached. Praying it was Hart, he urged Eliza toward the door. “Hart is with me. Come. You’re safe now. We’ll be married by morning.”
