Honeymoon from Hell IV

by R. L. Mathewson

  Two of the most precious moments of her life were gone forever and there was nothing that she could do about it except stand there and let them go.

  *-*-*-*

  “Son of a bitch,” he moaned miserably, closing his eyes as he willed the damn cramping to stop sending shooting pain throughout his stomach when he saw the look on his wife’s face when she reached down to run her fingers over the silver case that she carried everywhere only to end up curling her fingers into a fist and releasing a small whimper when she realized that the portrait case that matched his own was gone.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen, he couldn’t allow her to lose something that brought her peace and made her smile every time she brushed her fingers over the smooth metal case that their families had commissioned as a belated wedding gift for them. It was the one thing in the world that she cherished and couldn’t seem to go five minutes without touching. It was something that he found sweet and endearing and he’d be damned if he was going to lose seeing that every day.

  “Shit,” he groaned, pressing his hand tightly to his stomach as he rolled over and forced his trembling legs to work as he clumsily pushed himself up onto his feet and stumbled past Elizabeth, who stood there looking absolutely devastated.

  “Robert?” she asked, her voice breaking as she absently reached up with a shaky hand and wiped away the tears rolling down her face, trying to pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking and making him more determined than ever to do this.

  “I’m fine,” he ground out, pressing his hand firmly against his stomach and threatening to feed it only chicken broth for the rest of his life if it didn’t calm down long enough so that he could go hunt that coach down and get the small portrait of the boys that Elizabeth loved so much back for his wife.

  With his free hand, he absently reached into the matching metal case that he carried everywhere with him, needing the comfort that it normally gave him when he thought he was too tired or sore to keep going. The metal case held everything dear to him in this world and he’d be damned if he gave that up without a fight. Desperation and fear that they would lose the precious trinkets forever, he gritted his teeth, pressed his hand against his stomach harder and-

  Promptly passed out.

  Chapter 6

  Several hours, a twisted ankle, sprained wrist, countless number of bruises and abrasions and an incredibly sore back later…

  “If he makes it through the night send someone to get me in the morning,” the pudgy man that had been passed out in the corner of the tavern when they’d arrived earlier, said with a slur as he reached for the mug of ale that he’d demanded as payment before he would give her his professional opinion.

  The three shots of whiskey that she had to buy only covered dragging poor Robert up the stairs, dumping him on the ratty old mattress after making sure that he wasn’t already dead so that they wouldn’t have to waste their time or risk throwing out their backs for a corpse. Then again, that was only after she had to swear up and down that Robert wasn’t contagious, which of course she did as soon as she’d managed to stumble into town, chased off a group of boys who were ransacking through their things since the coach driver and the passengers had apparently decided to dump their belongings in the middle of the busy yard where several coaches, and at least one or two horses, had trampled their things into the mud and… other things that she really didn’t want to think about, along with word that they were carrying the plague.

  After the warm welcome that they’d received, which involved threats to get the law if they didn’t keep going and a few rocks being thrown in their direction, she’d had about as much nonsense as she could take. So, once she’d rationally explained that Robert had food poisoning and that neither one of them were a danger to the town and had accidentally bloodied the lip of the constable, who’d foolishly grabbed her by the arm and tried to force her out of town, she’d grabbed their things, salvaged what she could and managed to find enough money to pay for a room for the night and booze to make up for splitting the constable’s lip and of course the town’s doctor’s fee, they’d been shown to a room, Robert had been examined by the man who smelled like he slept with the pigs and had been declared to be alive.

  For the moment at least, but he didn’t hold out much hope that Robert would survive the night.

  Well, that was the town drunk’s opinion and since Robert’s color was looking better, he’d stopped trembling and was now curled up on his side, lightly snoring and snuggling with a stained, lumpy pillow, probably thinking it was her and sighing with satisfaction and mumbling about her biscuits and jam, which of course led her to believe that he was going to be just fine.

  She wasn’t exactly sure that she could say the same about herself…

  The dress that she was wearing was ruined and the dresses that she’d packed probably were too, except the two dresses the boys had managed to run off with those along with her other pair of walking shoes, her best pair of stockings and of course her purse. Most of Robert’s things had been ruined, but he still had one complete suit, one of the small sketchpads that he liked to carry with him so that he could draw designs before he forgot them, walking shoes, a couple of pencil stubs and the money that he always kept hidden in a secret compartment of his bag for emergencies.

  Everything else was gone, her purse, his money clip and most importantly, the miniature portraits their parents had commissioned of the boys and of them. One of the boys or maybe even one of the men having one too many drinks downstairs in the tavern had taken them, probably hoping to get something for the silver cases. She could care less about the cases. They could have them just as long as they gave her back the portraits and the locks of hair that they’d taken from the boys.

  Well, that and the man currently mumbling about apple turnovers as he hugged the old pillow tighter. At least he was fine for the moment, she told herself, deciding that was enough for right now. She’d focus on taking care of him and making him feel better and then…then she’d try to find a way to pay to have two more miniatures made. It wouldn’t be cheap, but she’d find a way to have them done.

  She’d take in extra sewing, work down at the tavern, the bakery, she’d give up her pin money for sweets, make her dresses last a little longer, anything so that she could re-capture those precious moments before they were lost forever.

  But first…

  She sighed heavily as she looked at her husband who was now murmuring sweet nothings into his pillow as he snuggled it closer, and she would swear on this to her dying day, giggled in his sleep a few seconds before the color once again leeched from his face and he-

  Rolled over and proved that his stomach really was a bottomless pit.

  *-*-*-*

  “Oh…God…,” Robert groaned manfully as he rolled over and cracked one eye open to confirm that yes, yes he was in fact laying on a cold wood floor.

  Fully opening his eyes, he rolled over onto his back with a pained grunt and tried to figure out why he was sleeping on the floor instead of on a bed. He also wondered why he was starving, sore and felt like every inch of his body had been scrubbed raw. Then of course came the question of why he was naked with only a sheet wrapped around his waist and a very angry middle-aged woman standing over him with her arms crossed over her flat chest as she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, by his head.

  “Get out,” she snapped, that damn foot of her never ceasing in its tapping.

  And he would love nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but there were just a few things stopping him at the time, like…

  “Where’s my wife?” he asked pleasantly even as he shot her a look that told her exactly what would happen if something had happened to Elizabeth. He grabbed hold of the sheet covering his manhood to make sure that the rather angry looking didn’t get a clear shot at it as he stood up, absently looking around the small plain room that looked like it had recently been scrubbed cleaned. The room was still dingy, but at least now it smelled like fre
sh lemons and wax.

  “She’s downstairs working off the rest of your tab,” she said in a disapproving tone as she flicked one of her hands towards the corner where his suit waited for him.

  “What do you mean she’s working off my tab?” he snapped, grabbing his pants as he felt the old anger that he’d worked so hard to destory trying to make its way back to the surface, but he would never let resurface, not after Elizabeth came into his life and changed everything.

  Then again, if someone had hurt his wife…

  “She only had enough money to cover the cost of the doctor and the room for one night. She had to work off the rest,” the woman said firmly as she headed toward the door, pausing only long enough to send him a scathing look as though this were somehow all his fault and as much as he’d like to scream at the woman and tell her that it wasn’t, something told him that it was.

  *-*-*-*

  “They’re still waiting for their breakfast,” Miss Bridgett, the owner’s sister and someone that was probably going to give her nightmares for years, said with a contemptuous smile that pretty much said it all.

  She’d enjoyed every last minute of misery that she’d inflicted upon Elizabeth in the last seventy-two hours. Not that Elizabeth had ever believed that Miss Bridgett had offered to allow her to work off most of the bill out of the kindness of her heart, because she knew better. Well, that and the fact that Miss Bridgett got a creepy little smile of satisfaction on her face whenever she asked Elizabeth to do something. She seemed to take great satisfaction in finding something wrong with her work and ordering her to do it over again, but this time she had better do it right.

  “I’m bringing them out now,” she said, using that same smile that she used to use on her parents when she had to go along with something that she didn’t want to do just to keep everyone happy as she grabbed two plates overflowing with eggs, ham and biscuits and headed for the tavern where the same group of men that had stayed up drinking whiskey and ale all night and offered her a few coins to sit on their laps, were now nursing hangovers and demanding food.

  God, she was tired, but she was trying not to think about that right now, because she still had to go make sure that Robert was okay and try to get him to eat something. He was looking a lot better than he had the night before and she wanted him to keep looking that way, so she was doing every single demeaning chore thrown her way so that her husband could get more rest and she had a little more time to figure out who’d stolen the rest of their things and come up with a plan to get them back.

  “You need to hurry up and finish the dishes before you leave,” Miss Bridgett said, deciding to push it and see just how much free labor she could get out of her before Elizabeth finally had enough, woke Robert up and start the long walk back home while she tried not to cry over how tired she was.

  God, she was exhausted.

  She’d thought she understood the word before, thanks to the babies and the schedule she’d made for herself, but working for three days straight for a tyrant like Miss Bridgett had helped her redefine the definition of the word exhaustion. What she wouldn’t give for a nice exhausting day at home where she was at least guaranteed three meals and a few minutes of sleep here and there while she waited for one of her sons to start screaming, making his hunger known, and seriously terrifying her because she’d never seen children, babies really, grow that fast or eat that much before.

  Sometimes when she was able to fall asleep, she’d have nightmares about how they were going to keep up with the boys’ ferocious appetites. She used to worry about Robert’s appetite sending them to the poor house, but his appetite had nothing on the boys. It was terrifying and some days she wasn’t sure that they’d make it through the day without the boys breaking down the pantry door and eating everything they had in storage, but thankfully Robert was an excellent carpenter and had fortified the pantry door, ensuring that not even an army could break in there.

  She was always so scared that she could never do enough to not only make up for the past, but to show Robert that he hadn’t made a mistake when he’d brought her with him. Even though American had come a long way since it had broken free from England and had become known throughout Europe as the land of opportunity, sometimes there was more opportunity for families if the women and children stayed behind while the men started lives for them here.

  Robert worked so hard to put food on their table and keep a roof over their head, she felt like she wasn’t pulling her fair share if she wasn’t putting in just as many hours as him and trying to find ways to earn her keep. She didn’t want to be another burden for him, especially after everything that she’d put him through when they were children. She just wanted to make him happy and she was terrified that she was never going to be able to do that.

  Maybe she should take the boys and return to England with James when it came time so that Robert could have a real chance at building them a future here without her getting in the way of his dreams. Leaving him would be the hardest thing that she’d ever done, but if staying away for a year or two gave him the chance that he needed to really establish himself here and make a life for them then maybe that’s what she should do.

  It was the right thing to do, she told herself, choking back the tears as she told herself that she was just tired and that her heart wasn’t breaking in two.

  She owed it to Robert to do this.

  She owed him a real chance.

  Chapter 7

  “Should I call the magistrate?” Mr. Bridgett asked, shooting a nervous glance between Robert and the large man that he had pressed up against the wall by his throat.

  “Yes,” Robert said as the son of a bitch that wasn’t walking out of this tavern without a beating, practically screamed, “No!”

  Mr. Bridgett sent the mean old crone that was apparently his sister a nervous glance only to find her looking down her nose at him with a haughty sniff, making it clear, at least to her brother, what she thought of the whole mess.

  “The bastard just attacked him for no reason!” the asshole’s buddy argued, but didn’t dare come any closer, Robert noted as he tightened his hold around the piece of shit’s neck and squeezed just enough to get his meaning across.

  Struggling to take his next breath, the asshole fumbled inside his coat and grabbed two-silver cases and hand them over to Robert without another word. He didn’t bother to ask about the money that had been with the cases, because he already knew that had been the first to go and probably the reason that this son of a bitch and his friends smelled like cheap ale and even cheaper perfume. They’d spent his hard-earned money living it up with booze and whores while his wife had worked her fingers to the bone to make sure that he was cared for.

  For that alone, Robert pulled back his fast and let it fly, breaking the asshole’s nose. He dropped like a sack of potatoes at Robert’s feet and although his friends appeared to want to help him, the way Robert simply stepped away and calmly placed the silver cases in his coat pocket said it all. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he wasn’t about to turn one down either, not after finding out how truly fucked up this honeymoon was turning out to be.

  “G-get out,” Mr. Bridgett all but whispered as he took a healthy step away from Robert until he had a small tavern table between them with his sister by his side.

  “Just as soon as you tell me where my wife is,” he drawled, giving the man’s sister a look that told her that she should count herself lucky that he didn’t hit women.

  “She’s in the back doing the dishes,” she said in a stern voice that obviously expected to be obeyed.

  Giving the brother a pitying look, Robert walked past them and headed towards the back hallway, and found his wife, perhaps one of the strongest woman that he’d ever met, sobbing quietly as she stood there sadly scrubbing a cracked plate clean.

  It was just….

  The saddest thing that he’d ever seen.

  She just looked so helpless and sweet standing there, silently sobbi
ng as she continued to try and wash the crack away, making him wonder just how long it had been since she’d slept. When her bottom lip quivered as a tiny little sliver broke free from the crack and hit the floor without a sound, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

  It was just so damn sad….and so damn cute…

  He knew that his wife’s near breakdown was serious and that he really shouldn’t really find anything cute about this, but damn if that little lip quiver didn’t have him biting back a smile and making him forget that he wanted to wring the neck of the inn keeper and his greedy sister.

  Almost.

  Sighs, another sliver fell to the ground, earning another lip quiver and a little sniffle that had him shaking his head and walking over to his wife, who was quietly sobbing over an old cracked plate. Shaking his head, wondering why he hadn’t put a stop to this sooner, he gently took the plate away from Elizabeth’s trembling hands and set it on the counter. He pulled her into his arms.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” he promised her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  Although she did nod in agreement as she grabbed onto his coat and buried her face against his chest, something told him that she had no clue what he’d just said. It was just another sign that he should have put an end to this sooner.

  Taking care of twin boys, cooking, cleaning, taking on sewing and other chores to help make extra money for them as well as taking care of the gardening was too much for any one person to handle. He’d pointed out that she was doing too much in the past, but every time he voiced his concern it was met with a stubborn glare as she took his words as a challenge to do more.

  He’d been too damn exhausted to argue with her and to be honest, he hadn’t wanted to fight with her. Things were going so well between them that he hated risking saying or doing anything that would destroy this beautiful truce between them. He liked having his minx in his life and would do whatever it took to keep her there, even keep his mouth shut when he knew that she was pushing herself too damn far.

  That all ended today.