by C. J. Archer
“Do not blame yourself. You’ve been going through some difficult times.”
“I am seeing things clearly now, however,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I have some things I want to say to you. Firstly, I don’t love you and I don’t want to marry you.”
She wiped her nose. “Oh.” She should be devastated by that revelation, but she wasn’t. What she felt for James wasn’t the sort of love between a husband and wife. She knew that now. Knew how that sort of love was supposed to feel.
“Secondly, there’s something you need to know about Rafe.”
“Something else? Something aside from the fact he’s an…” She couldn’t say it. It was too awful.
“Assassin,” he finished. “I found that difficult to swallow too when I heard. But it makes sense.”
“Makes sense? How can it make sense? Your brother cannot go about taking lives. No one can. It’s wrong.”
“Is it? Lizzy, it’s possible that the people he killed were villains themselves.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I’d wager it’s true. I know my brother and he is not a bad person. In fact, he’s the best of people. He’s everything you think I am. Caring, thoughtful, and utterly selfless.”
“With a violent streak the size of England.”
James said nothing for a long time. He stared off into the distance to where Freddie sat on the packed earth and played cards with the two small men from James’s cell. James seemed to stare right through them. “Do you remember my father?” he asked.
Odd question. “Yes.”
“Do you remember how he used to make me redo my stitching time and again until it was perfect?”
“My father used to do that too.”
“But do you remember how he would tell me I was hopeless if I failed? Or that I was letting him down when the stitches weren’t straight or were too big? When I was twelve and old enough to be an apprentice, he told me no master tailor would take me on. I was too lazy, too greedy, too slow, too careless.”
“Oh, James, I didn’t know.” Why was he digging such awful memories up now? His father was long gone and good riddance it seemed. Lizzy truly had no idea what he’d been like. She thought he’d been a good neighbor, father, and husband.
“I had calluses on my fingers by the time I was thirteen. They split and bled all over the fabric once. He made me clean it but it took all night and I was exhausted the next day and couldn’t perform my duties. Rafe did all my chores, but I still had to do the mending. I did a terrible job. My eyes stung and my fingers hurt and I just couldn’t do it right. Father called me all sorts of things. I believed him. I thought he was right and that I was useless. Rafe tried to tell me otherwise. He tried telling Father I needed to rest, but Father turned on him and told him he too was lazy, just like his father had been. I thought Rafe would hit him. He was big enough by then, a grown man almost. But he didn’t. He just walked away.”
He gave a short, brittle laugh. “Rafe is the least lazy person I know.”
Lizzy nodded, her heart lodged in her throat.
“After that, Father set about destroying Rafe. There was something in the defiant way that Rafe didn’t hit him that irked Father. It was like he wanted to goad Rafe into losing that iron self-control. He told the most awful things about Rafe—at church, the taverns, to our friends. Ask your parents, they probably heard most of it. How Rafe was angry all the time, called our mother awful names, or how he used to hit me. None of it was true. Poor Mother could do nothing. She tried to talk to Father, but it was too late. By then he hated Rafe to the point where that hatred consumed him. Father could think of nothing else except ruining his prospects, his life. His campaign of lies worked. Rafe could not find work, but he never showed that it bothered him. Not one complaint passed his lips. It annoyed Father immensely.”
“But why? Why did he hate Rafe so much?”
James shrugged. “Mother loved Rafe’s father. She spoke of him often, and always with glowing words. Apparently Rafe was like his father in looks and manner, and I suppose my father wanted to punish the son from the union out of jealousy or spite.”
“So what changed?” she asked.
“My father is what changed. He tried a different tack, beginning with Mother. He had always been miserly, never giving her enough for the marketing so that she had to make hearty meals with very little, and never making new clothes for her even with the off-cuts from his commissions. But then he started calling her names too. He said she was weak and ugly, a pathetic wife. He told her she’d raised two useless sons and that she’d killed her first husband out of boredom.” He drew in a deep breath. “It worked. Rafe stood up to him. He told Father to stop, but Father kept going.” James frowned and tears filled his eyes. “He just kept on. And Rafe was powerless to stop him. I could see him seething with barely contained fury. It must have cost him a great deal to control his anger.
“Until one day Mother found the courage to tell Father to stop. She was ill by then, her heart weak. Father ordered her to be silent but she wouldn’t. It was like a dam had burst and she was letting out years of frustration and anger on him. So Father pushed her. She fell back and…died.” He sniffed and wiped his nose. “I saw it. Rafe did too. He ran after Father, chased him into the street. I didn’t see what happened next, I remained with Mother, but I saw Rafe return. There was blood all over him and he was…blank. It was like watching someone else walk through the house, not my brother. I shouted at him but I don’t think he heard. He simply went to his room, packed some things, and left.” James stopped talking and sat without moving. He simply stared straight ahead.
Lizzy touched his hand and finally he turned to her. His fingers curled around hers and he blinked.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“Father made me promise not to tell a soul. I was so afraid of him, I didn’t dare break that promise. Not even for Rafe. By the time Father died, I was so ashamed of my own weakness that I…I said nothing. I’m sorry for that now. Rafe deserved better from me.”
“Do not be hard on yourself. I’m sure he understands. And you’re not weak, James. You were a child and your father was a beast.”
“Perhaps.” He lifted one shoulder. “Do you see now that the violent streak you’ve seen in Rafe takes a lot of provocation to surface? And it’s not random.” He placed his other hand on top of hers. “But it does exist, I won’t deny it. The question is, can you accept that flaw and love him anyway?”
Her mouth felt dry, her throat tight and achy. She swallowed but it didn’t help. “I was there. I saw Rafe hit your father from my window. Afterward, Rafe looked straight at me.” She shook her head. “But he didn’t see me. As you said, it was like he wasn’t really there.”
“Is that why you were afraid of him at first? I thought you were acting odd.”
She nodded. “I’d almost forgotten about it, but when he returned, it all came back to me. The blood, your father’s cries for mercy, my terror. I was so afraid of being near Rafe. But then a strange thing happened. When I was in disguise, I could be myself around him. I wasn’t afraid anymore. Before long I realized I didn’t need the disguise either. I think it was after I visited you here that my fear finally vanished. I was so angry with him for not telling me that I got mad and just…forgot to be afraid.”
He smiled. “And then?”
“And then…I fell in love with him.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “That’s what terrifies me now. I cannot fear the man I love. I should not.”
James held her chin gently. “Listen to me. Rafe will never hurt you or me or…” He waved a hand at Freddie. “Or even him. He’s not like that. He attacked Briggs because he’d been goading him for some time and hurting me too. Rafe killed Barker because he was going to kill you.”
“And the others? The ones he killed for his job?”
“You’ll have to ask him about those. I’m sure what he will tell you will ease your
mind.”
Her heart swelled like it had just been released from tight bindings. She needed to breathe and cry and laugh all at once, but it came out a strangled sob. She loved Rafe. And he loved her.
“Go and find out what those reasons are,” James said. “Then put those two clever heads together and find a way to set you both free.”
She hugged him fiercely and blinked through her tears. “Thank you, James. I adore you.”
She ran across the courtyard, down the corridor to the cell she shared with the rest of Lord Hawkesbury’s Players and Rafe. But it was empty.
“Where is he?” she asked a passing guard. “Where’s Rafe Fletcher from this cell?”
“Gone,” he said without stopping. “Taken to Newgate just now. That’s where the murderers go.”
CHAPTER 18
Lizzy sat on her pallet on the cell floor, too numb to rejoin the others in the yard. Too numb to cry or think beyond the fact that Rafe was gone and didn’t know that she still loved him. She didn’t stir until Antony burst in, an enormous smile on his face.
“We’re free!” he said. “Lizzy, get up, we can go.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
The rest of the troupe crowded in around him, all beaming, even Roger. Antony pulled her to her feet. “The warden came to us in the yard just now. The queen has shown mercy and released us,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get out of this filthy hole.”
The queen? Mercy? Why? “Blake,” she said on a breath. “Bless him.”
“And Lord Hawkesbury himself,” Henry said. “The warden told us that both of them petitioned the queen relentlessly on our behalf.”
“That and the fact the queen adores me,” Antony said, doing a twirl and flipping his hair back to finish off the little dance. “How could she chop off this head? She once said I had the face of an angel.”
“A fallen one,” Freddie said but he too was grinning madly. Lizzy was the only one not smiling.
“What of Rafe?” she asked. “Has he been released too?”
“Forget about him,” Roger said. “We’re to perform for Her Majesty! She commands it in this personal letter to me.” He flapped a piece of paper in front of her nose.
“It’s a condition of our release,” Edward said. “We’ll perform a new play for a select audience at the palace. It’ll be written by Min, of course, but Her Majesty has suggested what it should be about.”
Roger left the cell, beckoning them to follow by waving the letter in the air. “She wants it to feature a fairy queen of great beauty and wit who delivers her kingdom from many evils, is much loved by her advisors and subjects, and becomes immortal at the end.”
“Sounds as dull as dog shit to me,” Freddie said.
“And what would a baseborn idiot like you know?” Roger called back over his shoulder.
Lizzy shut out their quibbling as she brought up the rear of the troupe alongside Antony. He wasn’t smiling anymore but watching her with a troubled expression. They passed James out in the yard. He gave her a sad smile.
“I’m so glad you’re going home,” he said.
“Rafe,” she murmured.
“I know.”
She hugged him and he held her for a long time. “I’ll bring news and provisions soon,” she whispered, wiping away her tears.
The soft glow of dusk had all but been swallowed by the night by the time her parents folded her into their arms in the familiar surroundings of their parlor. Blake was there too, looking weary and unhappy. A terrible foreboding engulfed her.
“He’s not free,” he said before she could ask.
Her heart plunged and she sank onto a chair before her weakened legs gave way. “I have to visit him! I need to speak to him.”
“Visitors aren’t allowed in Newgate after dark.”
“Why wasn’t he freed when I was?”
Blake and her father exchanged worried glances. “You were not mentioned by name in the witness’s account, but Fletcher was,” Blake said. “It stands, despite Barker’s death.”
“But he was lying! How can they believe a dead man’s story?”
“I tried, Lizzy.” He shook his head and looked down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”
He left with a promise that he would do all he could for Rafe but Lizzy could hear the hopelessness in his voice. It made her feel ill. She couldn’t even stomach her mother’s hearty soup despite not eating well since going to prison.
Afterward, her mother cried as she helped wash the prison grime from Lizzy’s hair and skin, then she cried more as she listened to her daughter’s story. Lizzy told her parents everything that had transpired since her flight. Almost everything. She left out the part where she’d given herself to Rafe and the part where he’d beaten up the prisoner, but she did tell them he’d killed Barker.
“So you love him?” her mother asked in her blunt way. The tears had abated but she seemed to have aged in that short time. Exhaustion imprinted itself into every deepened wrinkle. “Rafe Fletcher, not James?”
“I do.”
“No,” her father said. “He’s no good. Best forget him, Lizzy.”
“I can’t, Papa. And he’s not bad. Not in the least.” She told them everything James had told her about Rafe’s past. When she finished, her father still frowned, but her mother’s face had softened. She even shed a tear.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see Pritchard for the man he truly was,” she said. “He wasn’t the most amiable neighbor, but he was polite enough. We had no reason to think he treated his wife and sons so ill.”
“It’s a sad business,” Croft said with a shake of his head. “But Lizzy, listen to me. Rafe Fletcher may not be as bad as we thought, but James Pritchard is, well, an ideal match for you.”
“Hush, John,” his wife said. “Love doesn’t choose.”
He gave her a blank look and shrugged. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.” She tucked a strand of Lizzy’s damp hair behind her ear. “If our daughter tells me she loves Rafe and he loves her then I know it’s true. She’s the most sensible of all our girls and knows the difference between love and infatuation.”
“Aye,” he said, nodding. “She is the sensible one. Very well then, I consent to the union.”
It was Lizzy’s turn to cry. She couldn’t stop the tears. She felt like her heart would crumble if she didn’t let them out. It was crumbling anyway. Rafe thought she didn’t love him. He was incarcerated in the miserable hell of Newgate thinking she was terrified of him. Did he still hope she would come to her senses?
Oh, Rafe, I’m sorry.
She hugged each of her parents in turn then wiped away her tears. Crying would not get Rafe released. “I need to ask something of you,” she said to her father. “I need to borrow some money to hire a lawyer.”
Her father stood, rubbed his hip, and limped out of the kitchen. He returned several minutes later with a bulging purse. He held it out for Lizzy but her mother took it.
“Are you sure hiring a lawyer is the best way to have Rafe released?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Lizzy said.
“A lawyer can do little for a man the Crown claims committed murder. Few would take on the case and they’d be unlikely to win anyway. The Crown—the queen—is always right. Always,” she said with a pointed raise of an eyebrow.
“Oh. Yes. I suppose so. Should we petition Her Majesty again? Perhaps Rafe’s friend Lord Oxley will have more success. But I don’t know when he’ll return. It may be too late.”
“My dear daughter. You’ve always been a good girl.”
“Ye-es.”
“I think it’s time you were a little less good. For the sake of your beloved.”
Croft groaned. “I’m going to pretend I’m not hearing this.”
“How is being less good going to get Rafe released?” Lizzy asked.
Her mother eyed her husband. “The only thing working against Rafe is Barker’s written account. I d
o believe those sorts of things are kept under lock and key. If you could get your hands on it, you could destroy it.”
“Wife! Has your mind curdled?” Croft sat heavily on the bench seat and threw up his hands. “Do you know what you’re suggesting?”
“I am suggesting our daughter save the man she loves. Now, you are either going to help her or not. The choice is yours.”
He folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. “I forbid Lizzy to do it.”
“Bah.”
He threw up his hands again. “Women! Why couldn’t I have had sons? Men are much less devious.”
“It is a man who got Rafe into this trouble in the first place,” she said reasonably.
“And you think our Lizzy is capable of doing such a thing? She’s never so much as stolen a pin in her life.”
“Of course she’s capable. Aren’t you, Lizzy? This is a little more important than a pin.”
Lizzy swallowed hard. Could she do it? Dare she? It was certainly an intriguing possibility. Without the document, Rafe could not be held accountable for the murder of Gripp, and the death of Barker would be attributed to self-defense, which carried no punishment.
“I still forbid it,” Croft grumbled. “I don’t want her to get into any more trouble.”
“Very well. Whatever you wish, husband.” She plopped the purse of money on the table. “Lizzy, take this and engage a lawyer. Then wait and hope and pray.” She poked the purse closer to Lizzy. “Take it.” She winked.
Lizzy stared at her mother, who winked again. She was right. Lizzy had to do something to save Rafe. There was no other way. A lawyer could do nothing, even if there was one willing to work for them. If Barker’s account was evidence enough to arrest Rafe, then it would be evidence enough to convict him. Legally, the court required no more. It was up to Lizzy to free him, and her alone. She would not drag any of her friends down with her if it all went wrong.
Later, as her mother sat on her bed with Lizzy, she said, “The crime was committed outside the city walls, I believe.”
