Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  “It hurts me, too, Nathaniel—”

  “I’ve been a fool.” His voice rose. “A fool to fall in love with a woman who makes rejecting suitors a daily habit.”

  She stared at him, his hurtful words burrowing deep. “I’ve always been honest with you. How dare you think I’ve been heartless.”

  Nathaniel’s countenance fell. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” He sank into a chair. “All of my plans have been dashed.”

  Seeing him crestfallen, Eliza’s throat swelled. She crossed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve no doubt you’ll find someone who will return your love. Give yourself the freedom to search for it.”

  He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes bloodshot. “Perhaps thou are right. I gave up everything for thee. Love shouldn’t have to be that way, should it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’ve seen reason and will no longer fall prey to foolish dreams.” He stood.

  Eliza watched as Nathaniel picked up his coat and hat and strode out of the room, out of the house, and out of her life.

  * * *

  It had been weeks since Eliza’s return to New York, but she remained restless. The nightmares continued, although the voice had been silent. The daily tasks of shopping with her mother and writing thank-you notes for the welcome home visits she had received seemed pointless. And furthermore, she had no desire to attend social gatherings or parties—especially if it meant encountering Jonathan Porter without any privacy.

  But she was afraid to go to his home and confess her feelings. So she waited and wondered if he’d contact her. He must know she was back in New York and wasn’t engaged to Nathaniel… Jon had probably taken precautions to avoid her, and she didn’t blame him. After all, he didn’t know how she felt. She kept his last letter hidden in her jewelry box. No one would ever see his words, though she doubted he meant them anymore.

  Yet the words of his letter had given her the courage to return to New York and help her family face the business problems. There had been a complete split between Beesley and her father, but her father had secured a large investor making the rebuilding of the business possible.

  She knew Nathaniel would have no trouble finding a young woman who would find happiness in his sun-kissed hair and bright blue eyes—a happiness she could never envision for herself.

  During the daylight hours she listened to her mother prattle about who was doing what. But it was during the darkest moments of the night when her nightmares returned.

  Each night she dreamt about Helena, and each morning she woke to her voice repeating, “I’m in the lighthouse.”

  Soon, Eliza’s mother noticed the circles under her eyes.

  “Are you ill?” Her mother placed a cool hand on Eliza’s forehead. “Maybe you should rest today.”

  Eliza found herself agreeing, and as days passed, she spent more and more time secluded in her room. Even Gina had stopped visiting very often.

  * * *

  Spring arrived, and Eliza confined herself to her room, pleading a persistent headache. As brilliant greens emerged outside her window, a dark curtain had fallen over her heart.

  One mid-April night, Eliza awoke from her sleep. She stared into the darkness—trying to remember her dream—then realized there hadn’t been one.

  “Are you finally gone?” she whispered.

  “Go to the lighthouse.”

  A jolt passed through Eliza’s body. The voice was not giving up.

  She knew that she had to go look in the lighthouse—if not for Helena’s sake, then for her own. She lit the candle by her bedside and rose. Packing took very little time, and writing a note to her parents even less. She hoped that they would not come after her, at least before she had a chance to discover the truth about the lighthouse. She needed to do whatever it took to get rid of the voice once and for all.

  * * *

  Stepping off the train at the Maybrook station, Eliza squinted into the bright sun. Nothing had changed about the sleepy town, and few people gave her a second glance. She hired a buckboard and horse, and loaded her single bag into the back. As she drove along the familiar rutted road, memories of Maeve flooded through her, and she found herself smiling.

  Shortly after turning onto Main Street, she arrived at the constable’s office. She knocked at the door, and after a moment, it opened.

  “Good morrow, Miss,” the constable said, surprise registering on his face. “Come in.”

  Eliza followed him into the inner office and helped herself to a chair. “I’ve come to speak with Gus.”

  The constable blanched. “Whatever for?”

  She hesitated, eyeing the constable carefully. “I believe he knows where Helena Talbot’s body is buried.”

  The constable’s face was a mask of stone. “Gus is not here.”

  “Has he been moved to a different jail? Where can I find him?”

  Averting his eyes, the constable spoke quietly. “He was released last month. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  Eliza gripped the edge of her seat, half-rising. “How could you release a murderer?”

  The constable held up his hand, his eyes hard. “It’s cruel to imprison a slow wit, and he never confessed to the crime.”

  Sinking back into her chair, Eliza let out a small cry. “He confessed his father’s murder of Helena to me. Gus wanted to avenge his father, and he tried to kill me. Isn’t that enough to hold him?” Her head began to spin, or was it the room? Before she knew it, she had pitched forward, and all went dark.

  * * *

  When she awoke, the first thing she saw was the constable’s ruddy face staring at her. “Canst thou stand, Miss?”

  Eliza grimaced and rose to her elbows.

  “Easy,” the constable said.

  She let the constable help her to her feet.

  “I’ll bring thee some water,” he offered.

  Eliza nodded, her head aching from the fall. She ran her fingers along her forehead and discovered a growing bump. The constable brought a cup, and she gingerly took a couple of sips.

  “Where art thou staying?”

  Eliza looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a consideration from the constable. “I don’t know.”

  “Ruth has been ill and hasn’t been seen in town much, but Goodwife Temple has a room she lets out,” he said.

  “That sounds fine,” Eliza said.

  “She lives above the bakery. Wouldst thou like me to walk with thee?”

  Eliza shook her head and handed back the cup. “I think I’ll be all right. I’ve hired a buckboard.” She rose to go. “Thank you all the same.”

  As she rode along Main Street, Eliza marveled at how everything looked as it had the year before—yet different, too. The people hurried along the boardwalk, their clothing ever conservative, their gazes respectfully lowered. She stopped in front of the bakery and entered the warm shop. Shelves were lined with freshly baked goods. The smell reminded her of Aunt Maeve’s home.

  A stooped man stood behind the counter, dressed in a clean white apron. His watery gray eyes surveyed her with surprising steadiness.

  “I’m looking for Goodwife Temple,” she told him.

  The man nodded and rang a bell. Soon a woman appeared from the back room, looking as aged as the man behind the counter. “Yes?”

  “My name is Eliza Robinson. The constable said I could find a room for the night here.”

  Goodwife Temple appraised her then nodded. “I’ll show thee the way.”

  Eliza followed the woman’s slow step up the back stairs. Two rooms were at the top of the landing, one occupied with personal belongings, the other bare except for a washbasin and bed.

  The goodwife motioned her to follow. “This will be thy room. Master Temple and I are next door if thou needest anything.”

  Eliza crossed to the window and looked out across the street. “Have you lived above the bakery long?”

  “Many years now. Afte
r Mistress Talbot passed, we bought the place and turned the downstairs into a bakery.”

  Eliza spun around and stared at the elderly lady. “Mistress Talbot?” So this was where Helena grew up. This might be her bedroom.

  “Aye.” The woman looked at her with curiosity. “We didn’t need all of the room and didn’t want any space to fall into idleness.”

  Eliza sank onto the bed, lost in thought. Downstairs was where Helena had probably first noticed Jonathan Senior watching her. The walls looked recently whitewashed and the floor polished. She traced the quilt beneath her and wondered if this was the same bed Helena had grieved for her lost lover. Goodwife Temple left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

  Chapter Thirty

  The absolute silence woke her.

  Stillness surrounded her like the soft quilts Aunt Maeve used to stitch. Eliza closed her eyes and tried to imagine Maeve’s home. The sturdy clapboards formed a square, and the second story sat upon the first like a well-designed birthday cake. Then the walls changed and stretched upward, narrowing toward the top.

  The lighthouse.

  Eliza sat up in bed. Helena is in the lighthouse. Eliza thought back to the last conversation she’d had with Gus. What had he said about where they hid the body? He hadn’t said.

  If Helena’s body was somewhere in the lighthouse, then it hadn’t been buried.

  “Now I understand,” she whispered into the gray light of dawn. “You want your body to be properly buried.”

  The sun had yet to rise, but Eliza couldn’t waste another moment. She rose and dressed quietly, trying not to disturb her slumbering hosts in the next room.

  Once outside, she saddled the hired horse Master Temple had tied behind the bakery for her. The mount stepped cautiously along Main Street, as if he knew it was prudent to be quiet. When they reached the end of the buildings on the road, Eliza urged the horse faster. Soon they were galloping along the way leading to Maeve’s property.

  Only when the lighthouse came into view did Eliza rein the horse in. She panted as hard as the animal. Heart beating wildly, she climbed down and tied the horse to a nearby tree then she let herself into the lighthouse.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness inside. She wished for a candle. She took a deep breath. “I’m here, Helena. What do I do now?”

  After waiting several moments in silence, Eliza felt foolish. Here she was, just before dawn, standing alone in a lighthouse, talking to herself. Not to mention she was still wearing her nightdress. Eliza turned and reached for the door. Then a shuffling sound above made her stop cold in her tracks.

  She groped for the door handle in the dark then she saw the knob, suddenly illuminated in an orange glow. A deep shiver ran through her entire body as she realized with horror that a candle had been lit behind her.

  “Thou hast returned,” a guttural voice said.

  Eliza turned, terror filling her. Two large eyes peered from the shadows, grotesquely illuminated by the flickering flame of the candle Gus held in front of him. She covered her mouth, stifling a scream.

  “Don’t be afraid, my dear,” a woman’s voice spoke behind him. “We’ve been expecting thee.”

  Eliza stared as a slight figure stepped from behind Gus.

  “Ruth?” Eliza managed to whisper. She was confused. “What are you doing here?”

  Chuckling, Ruth took the candle from Gus. Her thin gray hair hung in strands about her wrinkled face, and the nightgown she wore was crumpled and soiled. “We might ask the same question of thee.”

  Something cold and dark seeped into Eliza’s heart. Had Ruth been hiding Gus? Is that why no one had seen him in town?

  “I heard thou was in Maybrook. I knew it was only a matter of time before Helena led thee here.” Ruth moved closer, eyes glinting in the candlelight. “She speaks to me, too,” Ruth said, linking her arm through Gus’s.

  Eliza felt a sense of relief flood through her. Ruth wanted the same answers she did. But why would Ruth care for Gus now? Why would she harbor a criminal? “Then you know Helena wants a proper burial.”

  A laugh erupted from Ruth’s small frame. As the pitch rose, Gus joined in.

  Eliza looked from one to the other. “Am I mistaken, then?”

  When Ruth’s body stopped shaking, she said, “No, my dear. Thou are correct—almost. Helena doesn’t plead with me as she must you. She threatens me.”

  Cold shuddered through Eliza. “What about?”

  A smile spread on Ruth’s wrinkled face, looking grotesque in the candlelight. “She wants her revenge. She’s an angry spirit, but I think I know what will silence her.”

  Eliza’s breath caught, and she took a step back until her back touched the wall. Had Ruth already found the body and buried it? “She wants a proper burial,” she said again.

  Ruth barked out a laugh and shuffled forward, holding the candle higher and casting her face into a deeper shadow. “Helena doesn’t deserve a proper burial. She was evil. She tried to hurt my brother—”

  “My father,” Gus interrupted. “She tried to leave him and bring disgrace to his name.”

  Eliza stared at Ruth. “Gus Senior was your brother?” she whispered.

  The smile returned to Ruth’s face, and Eliza shuddered. Her mind spun as she remembered the words in the journal. Ruth wouldn’t have been happy if Helena had abandoned her brother.

  “A sister will do anything to protect her brother and nephew from being abandoned.” Ruth took a step forward.

  Of course… Dread filled Eliza’s stomach. “What did you do to Helena?”

  Ruth chuckled. The sound turned into an eerie high pitch. “We gave her what she deserved—it wasn’t right that she leave my brother. So I helped him get rid of her, as we will now do with thee.”

  Eliza gulped, and her hands automatically flew to her throat. She glanced wildly about the floor and along the walls for some kind of weapon, but there was nothing.

  “Helena will never have a proper burial, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy thy company. She’ll see that she can’t haunt us anymore, for she’ll know it will only bring more death.” Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she held the candle high in the air.

  Gus tapped the floorboards with his foot. “Under here is where thou’ll rest thy pretty head.” He sank to his knees and pressed his cheek to the floorboards. “It’s a secret,” he said, stroking the wooden planks beneath him. “I won’t tell…”

  “She’s under the floor?” Eliza asked, her voice thin.

  Gus raised his head, eyes smoldering. “Never tell—I said never tell.” He stood and began to move towards Eliza again.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll never tell.”

  Ruth held a pistol aimed at Eliza. “Revenge is always sweet, my dear.”

  Eliza shrank against the door, grasping for the latch. She turned and pulled with all her strength.

  “Move out of the way, Gus!” Ruth shouted.

  Eliza felt his greedy arms encircle her and squeeze. She gasped for air, and it was as if her lungs couldn’t get enough. Just as she felt she would faint, the door crashed open.

  A cloaked figure yanked Gus away by his hair. A shot from the pistol rang out, and Eliza screamed. Gus howled in pain and wriggled free from the figure, then staggered out of the lighthouse.

  The stranger turned to Ruth, who switched her aim from Eliza to his head. With one swift lunge, the man had the pistol wrested away from her. Ruth screamed and sank to the floor, sobbing.

  The stranger ran out of the lighthouse, in pursuit of Gus.

  Ruth was crying in hysterics on the floor. “My gun!” she called out. She struggled to her feet, desperate eyes focused on Eliza. “Thou hast ruined everything!”

  Eliza braced herself as Ruth dove against her. She fought off the old woman’s clawing hands and kicking feet. Then Eliza was able to deliver a strong blow to Ruth’s torso, which sent her sprawling backwards.

  For a moment, Ruth looked dazed, and then she crawled to the d
oor. Grabbing onto the handle, she pulled herself to a standing position. “I must save Gus,” she hissed. She stumbled out the door and ran in the direction of the ocean.

  Eliza wrapped her arms around her quivering body. Several minutes passed before she felt steady enough to leave the lighthouse. Against the brightening horizon, she saw a lone figure returning. Panic caught in her throat. Was it Gus? She ran to her horse then started to untie it with shaking fingers.

  “Wait!”

  Eliza froze. She knew that voice. “Jon?” she whispered in disbelief, letting the reins drop from her hands.

  Then she was in his arms.

  The trembling came first, then the sobs. He only held her tighter and stroked her hair, murmuring, “It’s over.”

  When she couldn’t cry any more, she raised her face and gazed at him. “Are you really here?”

  Jon touched her cheek, wiping tears from them. “I thought I was too late… when I saw the horse and the light inside… I could only hope you were all right.”

  “But how did you know?” Eliza asked.

  “Your father came to me for help when he found your note. Said you’d come to Maybrook, that you hadn’t been well… We came as soon as we could; your father went to alert the constable.” He paused, gazing at her long and hard. “And my mother told me you were in the lighthouse.”

  Tears filled Eliza’s eyes again. “Her body is beneath the floorboards.”

  Jon released his hold and took her hands, hanging his head for a moment. When he raised his eyes, they were moist. “We’ll have her properly buried so that she can rest in peace at last.”

  Eliza nodded numbly. Jon led her to a tree and spread his cloak on the ground, but Eliza pulled back.

  “They’ll return soon,” Eliza said, fear rising in her voice.

  “No… Gus jumped.”

  Eliza stared at him. “What?”

  “Gus ran straight for the cliff. Didn’t even slow down,” Jon said quietly. “Ruth is out calling for him. I can’t believe the woman who cared for me all those years could do such a thing…” He sank onto the cloak, staring in the distance.