She was thinking fast now, realisations piling up in her mind. All these years, she’d thought he’d accepted her rejection when he’d really just been biding his time. She needed to get out of the tunnel. A new twist of fear turned in her stomach at the thought. Was Sophie safe? Should she have ever left her? Had this been an attempt to lure her away?
‘Don’t be stubborn, Eliza,’ he admonished, the back of his hand skimming her face, his gaze dropping to her mouth. ‘Marry me and all will be forgiven. You can walk out of here and into a new life. In time you will see that I am right, that it is for the best. This is not worth dying for.’ His hips pressed into hers. She felt the hardness of his sex. Dear lord, this horror aroused him. ‘Marry me and live.’
For a while. A cold chill came over her despite the heat of the depths. He would kill her first. A dead wife was so much more easily managed, her assets more easily acquired. The true danger came to her for the first time. Detford would not let her leave alive. ‘We would be happy together, Eliza, if you would just allow it, if you would just allow me to show you.’ He was fumbling with her skirts, his mouth slanted over hers, seeking a kiss.
She turned her face away, thrashing about. Detford pressed her to the wall, holding her captive between the rock and his body. His mouth came at her again and this time she couldn’t avoid it. But she could fight him. She bit down hard on his lip. Detford cried out in surprised pain, losing his focus. Eliza shoved at him, hard, pushing past him, and began to run, scrabbling over rocky terrain in a dark landscape. She wasn’t fast enough or far enough. She went down with a thud, something sharp in the darkness cutting her lip, scratching her cheek as Detford tackled her from behind. She screamed. Detford swore, the blow came and her world went even darker.
* * *
It was still dark when she found consciousness again. Her head throbbed, the waves throbbed. Then panic pulsed. The mine! She was in the mine! And she was alone in the dark, deep under the earth. Through the pain, she forced herself to think. How long had she been down here? Did it matter? Knowing the answer to that question seemed like a luxury. Light would be more useful than knowing the time. But neither luxuries were forthcoming. Did she dare call out? Would anyone hear? Or rather, would the right people hear? Someone who wasn’t Detford or Brenley?
Eliza struggled to her feet, but only made it to her hands and knees. Whatever Detford had hit her with had left her dizzy and queasy. A sharp-edged rock, maybe? The butt of his pistol? She never should have come down here with him. She should never have trusted him. What a fool she had been! Her first clue should have been his insistence on secrecy, on waiting until everyone had left before they’d made an appearance in the shaft. She hadn’t understood he simply hadn’t wanted witnesses while he carried out his crime.
She crawled forward on all fours. She couldn’t risk standing up, couldn’t risk passing out again. Progress was slow and dangerous. She didn’t know where she was going, or what she would find. Mines had all sorts of crevices and cracks one might fall into, or twisting turns one might accidentally take. People could be lost down here in this dark world and never recovered.
She would not think about that now. She would think positively. She would think about Sophie and how much her daughter needed her to get home. Sophie must be worried sick. Eliza calmed herself. She would not panic. She would think about Eaton and how grateful she was for everything he’d done. She’d never felt about any man the way she felt about him; here was a man to be relied on, to be trusted, who cared for the well-being of others, a man who loved her daughter, who loved her. A man she loved. A man she loved enough to give him up, yet she had not told him so. She had not said the words. She’d been too stubborn, too determined to be independent, to see that loving him didn’t make her weak, didn’t make her dependent. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
To her left, gravel fell away beneath her hand. She reached out and felt only air. She stifled a scream. She was on a ledge. Horror rose. To her left there was nothing but darkness and emptiness. She’d taken a wrong turn. There’d been no ledge on the way down. Eliza picked up a pebble and tossed it, hoping to hear it clatter on other rock. Perhaps the ledge was really a slope, which was only somewhat reassuring. But she could not hear it land. How far did the ledge extend? Did it curve or go in a straight line? She didn’t know. She couldn’t see. Did she dare go on and hope the ledge didn’t end? That it curved back towards the safety of two walls?
Eliza assessed her options. If she was wrong, she could pitch off the end into nothingness. If she stayed where she was, crews would return in the morning, she could call out and hope they would find her, hear her over the throb of the waves and noise of the tools.
The thought of spending a dark night in the mine carried a horror of its own. Eliza felt for the rock wall to her right and huddled against it, hugging her knees tight to her chest. It would be a long night either way. Morning was likely a long way off. She’d left home at five. It had been seven when they’d entered the mine. She would be missed by now. She was hours late. Would Sophie or Miss Gilchrist sound the alarm? Would anyone answer? Her one hope was Eaton, but she’d refused him in no uncertain terms. Would he come or had he washed his hands of her?
* * *
Eaton was alone in the yard of the mine. He wheeled his horse in a circle, letting the animal breathe as he took in the deserted property. He’d ridden as hard and as fast as he’d dared in the dark to reach Wheal Karrek, only to find it deserted. What had he expected? It was well after working hours. Then he saw it, a covert flash of light in the office window, hidden away quickly. Someone was up there and they didn’t want to be seen. Likely, they’d already heard him ride in. He couldn’t assume he’d escaped detection.
Eaton swung off and headed up the steps. With luck, the person in the office was Eliza. But he didn’t feel that lucky. He reached for his pistol. Eliza would not have dithered at the office, knowing Sophie was waiting. That left Detford. Eaton didn’t like what that implied. If Detford was alone, that worried him a great deal.
Eaton barged through the office door, deciding to use brawn and surprise as his best weapons. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded. He let the door bang off the wall for effect. Detford looked up from the desk startled, frightened. He had the ledgers out, but that was the least of Eaton’s concerns.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Detford rose, putting the desk between them.
‘You left the house with Eliza hours ago,’ Eaton growled, advancing on Detford. Detford might have the desk between them, but Eaton had the door behind him. Detford would have to get through him first to reach it. Detford wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
‘What have you done with her?’
‘Does it matter? It’s far too late.’ Detford eyed him, trying to concoct a plan and failing.
Eaton cocked the pistol and drew out his other one. He fired the first at Detford’s feet. Detford swore. ‘You could have hit me!’
‘The next one will. Consider that your warning,’ Eaton ground out. ‘I don’t know how much Brenley is paying you to do his dirty work, but it cannot be enough to die for. It’s probably not even enough to be wounded for.’ With a pistol he didn’t need to jump the desk, Detford was just now realising that. Eaton grinned as Detford paled. ‘Now, let’s try the question again. Where’s Eliza?’ He could see Detford weighing his options. But a man like Detford only ever arrived at one conclusion.
‘She’s in the mine. I didn’t kill her,’ Detford offered as a belated defence. ‘I just left her there.’
Eaton’s blood began to surge. He should shoot the bastard now. Detford had taken the coward’s way out. He’d left Eliza in the dark, hoping she’d do the job for him. She just might. Eliza was too stubborn. She’d kick and claw her way right onto a ledge, or over a drop-off, and be lost for good. Eaton waved the pistol. ‘You first, Detford. Lead the way and know that I’ll shoot at the first sign of any trouble.’
He nodded towards the lantern by the door. ‘You carry the lantern.’ He wanted one hand free in case Detford tried anything.
The mine was an eerie place to be after hours, the lantern throwing shadows against rock walls. Eaton fought back a bout of panic when he thought of Eliza without even the comfort of a lamp. They reached the tunnel and Eaton stopped. ‘This is where you brought her? This is where you fought with her? Shine that lantern down there,’ Eaton directed, his eye catching something dark on the ground. He bent down and tested it with his fingers, careful not to take his eye or pistol off Detford. The man was sweating and not just from the heat of the lower levels. He held his fingers up to the light and cursed. ‘This is blood, Detford. What did you do?’
He steadied himself against the rage. Detford had harmed her. She was down here, hurt and lost. ‘Let’s retrace our steps, shall we?’ Eaton ground out, shoving Detford before him. At each junction he paused and called out, ‘Eliza!’ But the only sound that came back was his voice. At the third junction he heard it, a faint answer. It was wide, a fork in the shaft, really. It would be easy in the dark to turn left instead of staying on the main path.
‘Eliza!’ Eaton called again, pushing Detford forward.
‘We are not going down there,’ Detford protested. ‘It falls off into nothing.’
‘I can shoot you here, then,’ Eaton offered. If Eliza was down there, they were going even if it were the bowels of hell.
‘You won’t shoot. It might destabilise the roof.’
‘Would you like to bet on that? You’ll still be dead and the roof looks well timbered to me.’ There was no way he was leaving Detford behind to wreak any kind of mischief while he located Eliza.
Eaton called instructions, hungry for the first sight of her, ‘Eliza, wait for the light. Don’t move until you can see.’ He swung the lantern, his hunger for the sight of her turning to clammy horror when light hit the pathway. It was as Detford had claimed, narrow and dangerous, falling away entirely on the left. It was a miracle she was still out there. Then he saw her, pressed against the rock wall, and his heart leapt. ‘We’re almost there, Eliza,’ he called out. ‘Can you move towards us?’ The path looked unstable to his eye, as if too much weight would send it collapsing. He didn’t want to risk the three of them out there.
Eliza began to move, crawling slowly, each inch taking an eternity. She was being careful, Eaton realised. She knew the path wasn’t reliable. Eaton kept talking, kept her focused on moving forward. She was nearly there, just a few feet to go when Detford turned on him, swinging the lantern at his face. Eaton jumped back, the lantern missing him, but Detford’s motion caused the lantern to go out, thrusting all three of them into darkness. Eaton heard Eliza scream. Where was Detford? The darkness was the great equaliser. He didn’t dare shoot for fear of missing Detford or hitting Eliza or starting a rockslide in the dark.
Eliza screamed again and gravel rolled. He could hear the sounds of scuffling. Detford had her. If he wasn’t careful, they would both plunge to their deaths. Eaton fumbled for a match, desperate to relight the lantern. The wick flared and he raised his pistol without hesitation but there was no shot that didn’t risk Eliza. Detford held her against him like a shield with one arm, his own pistol raised with the other. ‘Put your gun away, Lynford. You will get us all killed,’ Detford drawled. ‘I’ll throw her off the ledge.’
‘You throw her off the ledge and you’ll be dead before she hits the bottom. ‘Where’s the victory in that for you? All your hard work for nothing. Best to come up to the ground and take your chances at a trial,’ Eaton reasoned. But Detford was beyond logic.
Detford’s eyes narrowed. ‘You say that because I am the only one with a decent shot.’ And he took it without warning. The pistol report echoed throughout the cavern. Eaton felt the bullet take him in the left shoulder. He went to his knees. Eliza screamed as a rumble began in the depths of the mine. She was struggling, trying to reach him. The rumbling was getting louder. The ground began to shake. The path beneath Detford’s and Eliza’s feet was disintegrating, increments of shale sliding away. Detford couldn’t hold her and maintain his balance at the same time. On his knees, Eaton levelled his own pistol, his left shoulder burning. If he could hold steady long enough, he’d have a clean shot and he could free Eliza. ‘Eliza, stay down!’ He called his warning and fired. Detford crumbled, clutching his arm, his pain consuming him entirely.
‘Eliza, honey, come to me now!’ Eaton held out his good hand, his eyes riveted on Eliza, lending her the strength of his gaze. The path was dissolving fast. Another shudder of the mine threw Eliza to her knees. She crawled towards him one lunge at a time and then he had her hand. He closed his grip around it as the ground beneath her gave out. She screamed, suspended in air with only the strength of his arm as an anchor. The rumbling was all around them, rocks falling everywhere. Detford was trapped on the other side, desperate and bleeding as his footing grew smaller, the path falling away beneath him. ‘Help me, man!’ Detford cried as the last piece of solid ground fell from beneath his feet, but Eaton could do nothing to help the other man as Detford’s grip failed him and he fell into the abyss.
‘Eliza, hold on! Look at me! Keep your eyes on me. Give me your other hand!’ Dear lord, let him have the strength. Let his wounded shoulder hold. All he wanted was to get Eliza out of the mine, to see her safe. What happened to him didn’t matter. Eliza would be free. That would be enough.
* * *
The tunnel was collapsing. One moment she was falling, the next Eaton’s hand had gripped hers, the only piece of stability in the chaos around her. A body passed her and she was screaming as Detford fell, his hands clawing vainly for purchase. For a moment he had a fistful of fabric and part of her skirt tore away, but Eaton’s arm held steady. How could it be enough? Already her fingers were slipping, sweaty and unsure. He was calling to her, his other arm bloody and slick as it reached down to her, his voice instructing her to look up, to give him her other hand. But to swing her body, to gain the momentum she needed, required courage. Any movement might cause her other hand to slip.
‘Come on, Eliza! I won’t let you fall!’ There was urgency in his voice. She had to act now or she might doom them both. She was counting on Eaton as she’d never counted on anyone before. She would only get one chance. She drew a breath and swung her other arm. Eaton’s strong grip closed about her wrist and he began to pull her up, hauling her against him, shielding her from the falling rocks with his body, ushering her to the sanctuary of the main shaft.
‘Are you all right?’ Eaton’s arms were tight about her. She was trembling, but there was no time. The cave-in would trap them if they didn’t move.
‘We have to go!’ But she stumbled, her efforts not able to match her words. She was hurt, sick, her head wound making it impossible to walk. She was going to die here. She hadn’t the strength left to get out. ‘Eaton, go. You can’t stay here with me.’ Already the corridor was a thunder of falling rocks.
‘Not without you.’ Eaton was grim. ‘You carry the lantern and I’ll carry you.’
‘But your arm...’
‘No arguing, Eliza. All I need is one good shoulder to sling you over.’ He swept her up and lumbered towards safety, strong enough for both of them.
Eaton staggered only at the last, collapsing as they emerged into the fresh evening air of the mine yard, surrounded by people and noise. Help had come. It was the only thought Eliza could register. She was dizzy and unsteady. Bude was there with Inigo and Cassian. Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders, someone else pressed a glass into her hand. She wanted none of it. ‘Help Eaton, he’s hurt. He’s been shot.’ She wanted to stand up, wanted to go to him, but she couldn’t. ‘Where’s Eaton? Is he all right?’ But no one would answer.
‘Shh...’
Someone—Inigo, perhaps?—soothed her.
‘We’ve got him. We’re taking him home. He’s unco
nscious. A doctor will be waiting.’
‘And Sophie? My daughter?’ Eliza fought the urge to want to sleep. So many people needed her.
‘She’s fine. She’s with my wife.’ Bude knelt before her, taking her hands. ‘We need to get you both home. I have my carriage.’
* * *
She was going to be all right. Eliza woke late in the afternoon the following day at Falmage Hill. Her head hurt, but she wasn’t dizzy. That was an improvement. Sophie was beside her. She reached for her hand and smiled at her daughter, but Sophie didn’t smile back. She went straight to the point. ‘Mama...’ her face began to crumple ‘...the doctor says Eaton might die.’
Eliza struggled to sit up, black spots swarming before her eyes from the effort. No, Eaton could not die. He would not die for her, or because of her. ‘Sophie, find me a dressing robe and find someone to help me. Get Cassian.’ She wouldn’t be able to manage the walk alone. She needed someone to lean on. ‘We must go to him. We’re his family.’
The doctor had not lied. Eaton was pale and unmoving in his bed. She’d never seen him so still, this man who was filled with energy. Cassian helped her into a chair. ‘He lost a lot of blood. An inch to the right and he would have died in the mine. The bullet was close to an artery,’ Cassian reported. ‘He developed a fever last night. He hasn’t woken since we brought him home.’ Cassian gave her a long look. ‘It is my opinion that he’ll wake for you, if you could find it in your heart to give him a reason.’
She heard the reproach in his tone. So he knew. Eaton must have told him she’d refused his offer. ‘I was mistaken in that decision,’ she whispered.
Cassian was tired and drawn from a long night spent at his friend’s bedside. ‘He is like a brother to me. I have known him since birth. Life has not always been fair to him, but he’s never let it stop him. He would give his all for those he loves. He proved that last night. I know of no better man.’
The Secrets of Lord Lynford Page 21
