by Aileen Fish
“I was a terrible husband. I traveled for months on end. And when she conceived Trudy, I stupidly believed it was every woman’s duty to be a mother. To make matters worse, I failed to believe Trudy was even mine.”
Elizabeth was shocked. “Of course, she’s yours.”
A small smiled touched his lips and his eyes met hers. “Would it surprise you to hear me say, I wouldn’t care if she weren’t? These past couple of weeks.” His head moved back and forth. “They’ve shown me that what I shared with Anne was nothing that it could have been. Should have been.”
“I’m thrilled to hear it.” Elizabeth smiled. But again, Miss Jolson’s dark words colored the moment. “What...what happened to...to Anne?”
~*~
Putting voice to the past was perhaps the most difficult thing John had been forced to do since burying his wife. But he owed Elizabeth the truth. With a deep breath, he forced the words past his closed throat. “The moment Daniel said those fateful words he was shot.” He rubbed his thigh. “The next thing I knew I’d been hit too. I rolled down the hill in my friend’s exact path.”
A warm hand covered his. But he couldn’t stop now that he’d begun.
“I played dead and they stepped over me. But I developed an infection and was sent home. I only remember bits and pieces through that period.” He hated the pity on her sweet face, but he forged on. “Anne didn’t handle people who were out of sorts well. At one point I woke and she was raging at me. Telling me I had no idea what she’d been through. That Trudy cried all the time.”
“She was a child.” She whispered, and her anguish touched him.
“I didn’t understand what she was saying. Not at first, I was confused. Her rages swung from Daniel’s death to Trudy’s unreasonable behavior. And when the doctors confirmed my injury as permanent.” Permanent. He’d never admitted it aloud before. But with Elizabeth...things would be all right. He inhaled deeply. “Well, one morning I woke late and found her. She’d taken a knife to her wrists.” He pierced her with a hard look. “How did you find my gun? Do you realize how dangerous that was?”
She blinked, stunned by his sudden change of topic.
He took her by the arms and shook her. “Answer me.”
“I...I wanted to prepare myself in case th-they were still th-there.”
“God, Elizabeth.” The thought of something happening to her, paralyzed him. “What were you thinking, taking my pistol like that?”
She appeared surprised by his question. “I was thinking of Trudy. She needs me.”
“You.” His whisper was soft in the quiet chamber. He wanted to devour her. Show her, with no holds barred, that she belonged to him. At the same time, treasure her. Treat her as the gift God saw fit to have blessed him with. He leaned in and her breath feathered his lips. He drew closer. “You...are a miracle,” he said against her lips, crushing her against him.
The time for words had passed.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth snuggled deeper within the covers. She’d had the most luxurious dream. John kissing her senseless, telling her to rest, that he’d be home for din—her eyes flew open, shot to the pillow next to her. Butterflies tickled her stomach. Not a dream. The imprint of his head was still visible. She stretched her aching body, hardly believing she may have stumbled into a true marriage with a man she’d find hard pressed not to fall in love with if she wasn’t already. Not that he’d declared any vows of love, but he’d held her through the night. Let her sob over Papa.
She glanced around and spotted the dark silhouette of his figure standing before the windows, looking out. “John?”
He moved quietly and was immediately by her side. “Good morning, my love.” A tender kiss rested at her temple.
“You didn’t sleep well?” She hated her shaking voice. But his lips curving against her forehead dispelled some of her tension. Reassuring her that she was most certainly living her dream.
“I did. It was the most glorious night I’ve had in years. And all due—” He touched her nose with a forefinger and smiled. “—to you.”
But there was something else. She could tell. She wanted to ask, but feared breaking this fragile thread of...of, she didn’t know what. “What is it?” she whispered. “Did I fail you in some way?”
He spoke quickly. “No. Of course not. But...” After a slight hesitation, he said, “I have a confession, Elizabeth. I went back to your father’s house before meeting with Zachariah yesterday.” Regret tinged his tone. “I was curious as to what someone may have been looking for.”
She snorted, disgusted. But his body was tense and she cupped his jaw with her fingers. “Papa always claimed he held treasure from Francis Drake.”
His frank look of disbelief was aggravating.
Her hand fell away. “I’ve never seen anything, but when he drinks his stories become quite tall.”
“And you think these men killed him for...treasure?”
“If you heard how he went on. Peruvian gold and Spanish money. Bah, I never believed a word of it.”
John chuckled. “Darling, Drake was renowned pirate for capturing a Spanish ship near Lima filled with Peruvian gold and Spanish money. He also captured the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción.”
Elizabeth was confused. “The what?”
“It was another ship. Loaded with eighty pounds of gold. A gold crucifix and chests full of jewels, as the story goes.” He tapped her chin. “I suppose it’s not impossible for your father to have acquired a piece or two,” he said slowly. “But...”
“But what?”
“The condition of the house...well, it indicates he’d had much more than was...possible. Wasn’t it?”
Elizabeth pulled away and moved from the bed, restless and irritated. “How should I know?” she demanded. “He only spoke of such things when he was inebriated to the point of falling down drunk.”
~*~
John stood, not sure where her anger was coming from. He longed to reassure her, but wasn’t certain what he would be reassuring her from. He went to her, took her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Bless her pride. “I am not upset. It’s just.” She pulled away. Her shoulders rose then fell. “It’s just, it seemed, everything with Papa was a-a score.”
“A score?”
“He never did anything for sheer enjoyment. There was always an angle. Or, money to be had. And,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “I could never distinguish the truth from the lies. I’ve never believed a single one of his Francis Drake tales. If they were true, would we have lived in such squalor? We’ve never had anything of value. Perhaps a painting or two. And I doubt they were worth killing him over.” Her voice broke. “I truly don’t wish to go back there. Ever.”
He wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “You don’t have to. Not until you are ready. As it is, I managed to salvage a couple of those pictures. Some perishables from the kitchen. But I’m afraid there wasn’t much.”
A shudder ran through her body to his, and he tightened his hold.
“You’re safe here,” he told her.
Her slight nod had her disheveled hair tickling his nose. He felt her pull herself up. Brave girl. She stepped back and raised her chin. Tears glittered in her eyes, tempting him to grab her again. He resisted. He was meeting Nigel in—he glanced at the clock on her dressing table and groaned—twenty minutes.
“I detest leaving you like this, but I must run.” Spy activity did not work on a set schedule.
She nodded.
His heart swelled a little at her pride. Her courage. He dropped a lingering kiss on her forehead. And forcing himself away, he slipped quietly through the door into the darkened corridor.
~*~
Elizabeth sank down on a chair, shaking. How kind he’d been. Truly concerned. She hadn’t felt anyone’s concern since Mama’s death. Only her father’s indifference during his sobriety and ridicule when intoxicated. Perhaps John Williams didn’t love her yet, the unbi
dden word whispered in her ear. But she could make this marriage a workable one by being the best wife and stepmother possible. She had enough love for the both of them.
Quickly, washing up, Elizabeth donned her warmest wool dress. It was past time to take Trudy in hand. She hated admitting that Miss Jolson was right regarding her defiance. Trudy was intelligent and talented, and no schoolmistress was going to treat her less than she deserved..
After breakfast she would escort Trudy straight to the schoolhouse herself. Patting her hair into some semblance of order, Elizabeth stepped from her room.
The window at the end of the hall lent very little light as the morning was still gray and sunless. Just enough to illuminate a lump of white linens. Elizabeth peered closer. “Gertrude? What are you doing sitting on the floor?” She sat, knees drawn to her chest beneath her nightgown.
“My daddy was in there, wasn’t he?” Fury shook her small voice.
At a loss for words, Elizabeth hesitated.
“All night.”
“Well, yes,” she said slowly. Carefully. “We are married.”
Trudy stood up and planted her hands at her hips. “I don’t want him staying with you. You’re trying to take him away from me.”
Elizabeth froze, surprised.
“I hate you. I hate you.” She spun around, ran for her room and slammed the door. “I wish you were dead.”
Elizabeth’s heart broke for her. “I couldn’t possibly take him from you,” she whispered. “Nor would I wish to.”
~*~
“They fell for it, John.” Nigel held out an envelope.
John snatched it up and tore it open and read through it quickly. Shaking his head, he leaned back. “Over 1,600 men captured. Incredible.”
Nigel nodded. “Which proves someone is getting the information. From here. From you.”
He was right. “But how? No one comes here except for you and Trudy.”
“You forgot to mention your wife.”
“Good heavens, Nigel. She came in yesterday for the first time since I made that crack about her marrying me.”
“And yet she married you, didn’t she?”
“I refuse to even contemplate such a ridiculous notion.” Most especially after last night. His hand squeezed into a fist. He forced it to his side because the urge to break Nigel’s prominent nose was a difficult one to resist.
Nigel’s expression turned hard. “We’ve been friends a long time, John. But understand, we cannot rule out anyone. I’ll return in a few days.” He slammed the door behind him.
One by one, John released his cramped fingers, dread in his gut like a ball of lead. He would locate the culprit. Nigel was an idiot.
~*~
Elizabeth sat next to a sullen, quiet Gertrude and flicked the reins to plod their lazy horse along. The sun shone through a haze of clouds for the first time in days, but at least it was visible. “Tru—Gertrude,” she amended. The child could cut the most terrifying looks. “I am not out to steal your father from you. As if that were even possible.” Exasperation spilled out. “Never mind. I have something equally important to speak with you about.”
“What?”
“Miss Jolson said you refuse to do your schoolwork.”
“She’s a liar.”
Elizabeth strived to remain calm though she tended to agree. “That is an inappropriate word.” Time. Time is what she and Trudy needed. Time to connect. Time to become friends. “What exactly did she mean then?”
Silence.
The schoolhouse came into view. Today’s time had just about completed. She pulled the horse to a stop and turned to this child that had somehow managed to lodge herself in Elizabeth’s heart. “I want to help.”
“I don’t want your help.” She tossed her book bag in a mound of snow then followed. “I’ll be going to Papa’s shop after school. We like to draw—together.”
Elizabeth let out a sigh. “That’s fine, Gertrude. I shall see you after that.”
“Then I shall go to the church. To pay my due.”
“You are finished paying your penitence to the church. I told you that already.”
But Trudy, in all her stubbornness, stomped the rest of her way to the schoolhouse, disappearing inside, never looking back.
It hurt. It hurt like a dagger to her throat. Elizabeth blinked back tears. How was she to get through to a child so determined to think the worst? She flicked the reins and headed home. Time.
~*~
Meal prepared, Elizabeth had a final task for Jillian before she sent her on her way. “Jillian, could you assist me with my dress? I-I wish to change for dinner.” She forced herself to ask, despite the heat in her cheeks, she knew was not the cause from the wood-burning stove. Elizabeth straightened, wiped her hands on her apron then untied it from her waist. A mouthwatering aroma filled the kitchen.
Jillian’s eyes cut to hers. “Oh my. This special dinner and dressing too.”
Elizabeth marched through the door and up the stairs. “I shall wear the navy—with a hoop.” Navy was almost black...
Jillian, on her heels halfway up the stairs, stopped. “Shall I abscond with Trudy as well?”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. A faint flush tainted her light brown skin.
“I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Williams didn’t sleep in his own room last night.”
Irritation was Elizabeth’s initial reaction but she bit it back. “We are married, Jillian.” How many others would she have to defend her position to? But Elizabeth could not contain her smile. “He is a wonderful husband.”
She smiled. “I’m so glad, Mrs. Williams.”
Elizabeth pushed her way into her room. “I have a question for you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Williams, I know Mr. Williams spent his night in here.”
“Jillian!” Elizabeth stepped out of her old dress and raised her hands for the corset Jillian had found.
“What—oh. That wasn’t your question...”
Flustered, Elizabeth waved out a hand. “No. I wished to ask you about your schooling.”
Her expression grew tight. Lips compressed, jaw tense.
She caught her expression in the mirror. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend. It’s just, well, you are so articulate.”
After a long pause, the tension eased from her shoulders. “My father. He is most particular.”
“Your father taught you? Samuel?”
She sniffed. “He is a taskmaster. Every night I am required to recite—” she stopped. “Why do you want to know?”
“It appears that Trudy is refusing to do her schoolwork. If Miss Jolson is to be believed.”
“But—but,” she sputtered, her surprise evident. “I don’t understand. She is...I’ve never known anyone so clever, despite her age.”
“Yes, I feel the same. And artistically, she is quite accomplished.”
“Breathe in,” Jillian said, tugging on the strings of her corset.
Elizabeth complied. “Do you think Samuel would consider tutoring Trudy in her studies? We would add to his compensation, of course.”
“Bah! He would do it for the principle of the thing. Oh, but—”
Elizabeth smiled. “Not to worry. Mr. Williams will make certain all is in order.”
She jerked the ties sharply. “You know, Mrs. Williams? I believe you will.”
Someone pounded at the door downstairs. Their eyes met.
“I’ll see to the door.”
“Thank you.”
Jillian darted from the room and Elizabeth straightened the frock on her shoulders. Of course it wasn’t the satin Mrs. Lincoln wore. Nothing quite so elaborate. But it lay off her shoulders in two layers of ruffles. Jillian slipped back in to button up the back. “It’s that Mrs. Babbage. I’ve put her in the parlor. If you ask me, she is too uppity for a preacher’s wife.”
“Jillian! You mustn’t speak ill of—”
Her small snort escaped, cutting Elizabeth off. She quickly finished up Elizabeth
’s dress. “I’ll arrange tea.”
Elizabeth smoothed her hand down the dark blue confection of her skirts. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
Bernadette’s visit was not wholly unexpected, Elizabeth thought, hesitating at the drawing room door. But the woman was overstepping her bounds. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth entered. “Mrs. Babbage, how nice of you to call.”
“Bernadette, please. Thank you for seeing me.” Her hands, clasped and twisted. She was most certainly distressed.
“Please, sit.” Elizabeth indicated a chair before the hearth.
She obliged.
“You are obviously upset. I can ease your mind—”
“That is it precisely, Elizabeth. Gertrude failed to appear this afternoon, as scheduled.”
“Do not fret, Mrs. Bab—Bernadette. I told Gertrude she must concentrate on school now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Mr. Babbage and I enjoyed her company immensely.”
“Never fear.” Elizabeth gave her a benign smile. “I’m certain she will visit on occasion. She thinks quite highly of you.” She doesn’t wish you dead.
“Elizabeth. I ran into the schoolmistress, Miss Jolson.”
The small hairs at Elizabeth’s nape rose, along with her temper.
“Miss Jolson mentioned she was missing some coins from her bag.” The look she gave Elizabeth could only be described as measured. “Gertrude was seen...” Her words fell off, her implications clear.
Her breath hitched. “She was caught?”
“Truly, giving you this news brings me no joy.”
Trudy would have to be punished. There was no way around the situation. “I shall speak with Miss Jolson tomorrow.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t. The woman told me in the strictest confidence.”
“But Trudy must be reprimanded.” This was horrid news. Horrid. “I-I suppose I could speak to Mr. Williams regarding her after school activity. Have her come straight home rather than spend time at her father’s shop.”
Bernadette shook her head, sympathy in her eyes. “Oh, but she relishes those visits. Do you think it wise to interfere in their relationship to that degree?”
