by Sally Laity
She felt Micah’s and Anabelle’s eyes center on her. Eliza had told Ana before arranging this outing that she had no desire to begin keeping regular company with young men. Charles, it was true, had been the ultimate gentleman, and she really didn’t want to encourage him. But neither did she wish to offend him. “Well, I—”
A shadow fell across their table as someone approached. “Why, Eliza!” a deep voice exclaimed. “What a surprise.”
As her gaze swung up to that very familiar face, she felt all the color drain from her own. “W–Weston!” All but choking on the name, she sprang to her feet, toppling her chair in her haste. All thought vanished but one: escape.
fourteen
“Eliza! Wait!” Glaring at the intruder, who’d at least had the grace to step backward a pace, Micah jumped up and ran after her, barely acknowledging the astonished looks that passed between his fiancОe and Charles Sprocket as he left them behind. He’d seen Eliza upset over her aunt’s health, but never had he witnessed her turn white with shock and alarm as she’d done in this instance.
Nearing the door, he spied her warm cloak still hanging where they’d left their outerwear upon entering the restaurant. He plucked it from the hook on his way past and dashed out into the street.
Light snowflakes which had been floating and swirling on the night wind during the concert were now beginning to collect on the ground in a coating so thin it was almost transparent. But thankfully it was enough to indicate which direction Eliza had gone. In the flickering glow of the gaslights, he followed the small footprints around the next corner.
The sound of labored panting came from a darkened doorway of the second building, where he could see Eliza huddled in misery, pressing her hands to her cheeks, as if attempting to cool them.
She was turned slightly away, and at the sound of his footsteps, she let out a petrified scream. “Go away! Leave me alone!”
“Hey, it’s all right,” he crooned, stooping to draw her to her feet. “It’s me. Micah.”
She glanced beyond him, her eyes wide with fear. “D–don’t make me go back there,” she said between great gulps of air. “I don’t want to face him.”
“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
Compliant as a child, she allowed him to wrap her cloak about her shivering form. Then she began to cry.
Forgetting all but his concern for her, he pulled her close, cradling the back of her head as he rocked her in his arms. “Shh. You’re safe now. No one’s going to cause you harm. Come on, we’ll see you home.” Gently easing her away, he tucked her icy hand in the crook of his elbow and led her back to where they’d parked the buggy.
Anabelle and Charles exited the establishment as he was handing the still-distraught Eliza up into the upholstered backseat. He smiled with relief. “Sit with her, would you, Ana?” he asked quietly. “See what you can do.”
She nodded, and when he helped her board, Anabelle took the spot next to Eliza, while the two men took the front seat. Draping an arm about Eliza, Ana hugged her close.
❧
Until he had burst into her life again, Eliza had actually believed she was over the hurt and humiliation of being jilted by Weston Elliot. But the truth was that, for the most part, she had only suppressed her sadness and heartache. The few tears she’d cried in Aunt Phoebe’s presence made her feel self-conscious, so she’d gathered the fragmented feelings together and pretended all was well. Yet running into her former betrothed here in New York was the last thing in the world she had ever expected.
Jostling homeward in Micah’s buggy, Eliza felt her control gradually returning in the oppressive silence. But she knew her behavior in the Wooden Shoe had to have embarrassed her friends. Charles she cared little about, but what must Micah or Anabelle think of her? How would she ever hold her head up before them again?
Even as she pondered that heavy thought, she felt Ana give her an empathetic pat. Eliza raised her head and met her friend’s concerned gaze. “I’m so very sorry. . . .” Her voice caught on a leftover sob. “I didn’t mean to—”
Anabelle gave her an understanding smile. “Please; you mustn’t apologize, Eliza. Whoever that cad was that he could upset you so, it most certainly is no fault of yours.”
“But I spoiled the whole evening, and you must—”
“Pshaw! As I recall it, we were having the grandest of times up until that last moment. I’m just thankful you weren’t alone.”
So am I, Eliza vehemently agreed. So am I.
As it happened, Charles’s house was the first they came to on the drive home. Upon reaching it, he hopped out. “Thanks, old man,” he said with a smart salute to Micah and a reserved tip of the head toward Eliza and Anabelle. “Good evening, ladies. I rather enjoyed the concert. I trust you’re feeling better, Eliza.”
She nodded, but couldn’t think of a suitable response. It was highly unlikely Charles Sprocket would ever venture within shouting distance of her again, she was certain of that. She just didn’t care one way or the other right now.
When Micah at last pulled up before Harper House, he and Ana both alighted and helped Eliza down, then each took an arm to escort her up the walk.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “But I can manage the rest of the way on my own. Truly.”
“You’re sure?” Anabelle prompted.
“Yes, perfectly. I’m fine. . .or will be, in time.”
Ana continued to regard her. “Shall we postpone our shopping trip for a day or two?” she finally asked.
“No. Not at all. I’ll be ready tomorrow at one, just as we planned. I promise.” She added as much of a smile as she could manufacture.
“Well, watch your step,” Micah urged. “The snow can be slick if you’re not careful.”
“I will; thank you.” Eliza wanted to utter another heartfelt apology, but the kindness in their expressions would have been her undoing. She settled for something much simpler. “Good evening.”
Her friends waited until she reached the door before driv-ing off. Eliza waved and went inside. Finding the house quiet, she extinguished the downstairs lamps her aunt had left on for her, then trudged upstairs to give vent to the remainder of her anguish in private.
❧
Awakening with the first streaks of dawn, Eliza snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets and quilts and once again thanked the Lord for getting her through the long night. Along with having emptied her soul of the last remnants of her tears, she had poured her heart out as well, ridding her being of the bitterness she’d been clinging to regarding Weston Elliot. It had taken that one glimpse of the man for her to realize the love she once felt for him was dead. He no longer had the power to hurt her.
With that final acceptance, a joyous peace flowed through her, filling all the secret corners inside. And now, by the grace of God, she knew she could face whatever lay ahead, be it the solitary life she’d found here with Aunt Phoebe or some other road of His choosing. All that mattered was that she be a vessel God could use to glorify His Son.
Gathering daylight had begun to creep between the folds of the window curtains, and Eliza pushed the covers aside so she could get up. She crossed to the washstand for the pitcher and basin and went downstairs for warm water.
Her aunt, always an early riser, was just coming from the kitchen with her own supply of water for her toilette.
“Good morning,” they said in unison, then shared a smile as they parted company, each to prepare for the day.
When Eliza came down half an hour later, she found a breakfast of Aunt Phoebe’s crepes and maple syrup waiting for her, a wonderful start for a busy morning.
By the time one o’clock arrived, and with it, Anabelle, Eliza was eager to go shopping.
“You’re looking surprisingly well,” her friend remarked as she stood waiting for Eliza to don her wrap.
Aunt Phoebe turned to Eliza, unspoken questions in her eyes.
“Not to worry, Auntie,” she said, slipping into her coat and gloves. “I crossed paths last evening with an old memory, but I’m over it now. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, we have lots to do. Come on, Ana.”
But once outside, Anabelle was not so easily put off. “You’re quite certain that everything is well, Eliza? After your distress of last eve, I felt compelled to pray for you when I got home.”
Eliza stepped near enough to hug her. “Which is likely one of the reasons why I’ve come to terms with it, dear friend. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” Reaching the coach, she accepted the driver’s help in boarding and gave him a grateful nod.
“Micah, too, was quite troubled over the whole affair,” Anabelle went on, taking the seat opposite her as Graham flicked the lap robe over their legs. “I’ve scarcely seen him in such a black mood.”
Eliza couldn’t suppress a guilty sigh. “I feel rather awful that he had to come to my aid, yet I appreciated the fact that he did. Weston’s sudden appearance caught me off guard. I’d thought that part of my life was past. I’ll apologize to Micah next time I see him for his having dashed from your side like that just to rescue me.”
“It’s not necessary, really.” Anabelle averted her attention to the passing buildings, and for a length of time, neither of them spoke.
Eliza finally broke the silence. “Weston Elliot, the man who approached me at the restaurant, was once my fiancО.”
Her companion’s green eyes turned to Eliza.
“Yes,” Eliza continued before she used up her nerve. “Shortly before our wedding was to take place, he ran off with my best friend.” There. It was out. She’d actually said the words.
Anabelle’s jaw dropped open. “You can’t be serious. Why, no wonder it was a shock to see him again out of the blue.”
With a nod of agreement, Eliza went on to confide the whole sordid affair. “So, as you might imagine,” she said in conclusion, “I’ve been quite bitter at both of them for some time.”
“And with good reason. Such nerve.” Ana wagged her bonneted head.
“What’s even more strange, however, is that I received word from my mother recently telling me that Melanie had returned home alone. She would speak to no one, but shut herself up in her old room. I didn’t know what to make of it.”
“Nor would I.”
“In any event, last night I finally prostrated myself before God and turned over my misery and bitterness to Him. I didn’t want to hold onto it for one more hour of my life. And He not only quite graciously took my burdens upon Himself like He promised, but He then filled me with the most incredible peace. I feel I can face anything now with Him beside me.”
“Thank you, Eliza, for telling me all of this. I understand quite a lot of things now.”
The carriage came to a halt in front of Macy’s department store, and Graham again assisted the girls. “I’ll be back for you in two hours, miss, to see if you’ve finished or need to be taken elsewhere.”
“That will be fine. Thank you.” Smiling, Anabelle reached for Eliza’s hand, and the two of them hurried toward the entrance.
Eliza had been inside some elegant stores in her life, but none compared to this one for the fashionably attired patrons bustling about or the variety of merchandise available on every floor. Her gaze lost itself in festive displays reminding her of the approaching holiday season, but she was quick to remind herself that Christmas was not the primary reason for this shopping excursion.
By the time the allotted two hours drew to a close, they both had their arms filled with packages. “We couldn’t possibly have forgotten anything, could we?” Eliza asked hopefully.
“Not that I can think of,” Ana replied. “If it weren’t for the fact that we must wait for delivery of the mattress, we could have the room set up for occupancy by this evening. But in the unlikely event we’ve overlooked something else that’s crucial, we’ll just schedule another shopping venture. I haven’t had this much fun in ever so long.”
“Neither have I. Won’t Aunt Phoebe be amazed at all the practical and nice things we found for that room? I can’t wait to show her.”
Exiting the huge doors to the street outside, they spotted Graham waiting for them, and in no time at all, they were back at Harper House.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay longer today,” Anabelle confessed as she and her driver helped Eliza take all the purchases inside, “but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Perhaps between the two of us, we’ll be able to make some progress in the room.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Thanks ever so much for coming with me today. It was grand to have your help, Ana.”
As Eliza hung her wrap and watched the Dumonts’ coach pull away and turn homeward, she heard Aunt Phoebe’s step approaching her from behind.
“You have a visitor, dear. A tall gentleman, waiting for you in the sitting room. I was busy with customers when he first arrived, so I’m afraid I didn’t get his name.”
Instinctively, Eliza knew who it was. Her calmness amazed her, but she breathed a prayer for strength.
“Shall I make tea?”
“No, thank you, Auntie. I would appreciate it if you would come with me as I speak to him, however.”
Though puzzled, Aunt Phoebe gave a consenting nod and moved to her side. “As you wish.”
Eliza opened the French doors to the sitting room.
Weston got up immediately, dressed impeccably, as always. He’d grown a mustache, which somehow lengthened his face. “Eliza. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Weston.” She turned to her aunt. “Aunt Phoebe, this is Weston Elliot. I’m sure you’ve heard me mention his name.”
“Yes.” The older woman paled, yet remained nonplused as she glanced from the visitor to Eliza, then back again. “Mr. Elliot.”
“Madam.” He cleared his throat and sought Eliza’s face. “Might we speak in private?”
“I think not. Whatever you have to say to me, you may say in front of my aunt.” She motioned for the older woman to be seated, then took a chair near her. “Why have you come?”
A look of resignation crossed his chiseled features. Absently he toyed with the brim of his bowler, turning it around in his hands as his hazel eyes met hers.
“I hadn’t planned to, actually, but when I happened to see you last night, I—” He glanced between them as if ill at ease, and his demeanor turned stony. “Confound it all, Eliza. I must speak to you alone.”
Appalled that she had ever considered him handsome—or worse—compared him to a man as noble as Micah Richmond, Eliza hiked her chin. “I’m afraid that is not possible, Weston. You gave up that right some time ago. We have nothing further to discuss. I must ask you to leave now.”
He studied her, as if expecting her to waver—as well she might have, in time past. When she did not, he expelled a huff of breath. “I’ll go. For now. But not before I tell you what I came to say. I still love you, Eliza—”
Her incredulous gasp made no impression.
“And I shall be back. I want you to give us another chance.”
Eliza turned to her aunt, her brows arched high. “Can you believe the man’s gall, Auntie? Having cast me aside to dally with my bosom friend, he has now apparently done the same to Melanie, yet imagines I should take him back again, as if nothing untoward ever occurred between us.”
Rising with measured dignity, he pursed his lips.
Was that anger she detected in that guarded expression?
“But I was a fool,” came his placating explanation. “I see that now.”
Even knowing what it cost a man like him to make that admission, Eliza held her ground. “Well, so was I, Weston, the worst kind of fool. But I’ll not make that mistake again. It is over between us, now and forever. I h
ave no desire to rekindle the cold ashes of an old fire. And I do not wish ever to lay eyes upon you again in this lifetime.”
As she spoke, she watched a mutinous gleam rise in his eyes.
“I suggest you go back to your wife. Melanie could still be vulnerable to those questionable charms of yours.”
His mustache quirked to one side. “I have no wife. I never married Melanie.”
Eliza’s mouth gaped in shock. “Then you are without a doubt the most despicable man I’ve ever had the misfortune to know. Get out of my sight, Weston Elliot. And do not come back here again. Ever.”
A muscle worked in his jaw as he stared at her long and hard. But with little more than a flicker of a glance at her companion, he slapped his gloves against his palm, plunked his hat atop his obstinate head, and stalked away.
More than the bell rattled as the front door slammed shut behind him.
Eliza and her aunt sat stunned.
“Well,” the older woman finally said, giving Eliza’s knee an approving pat. “I assume that was the ‘memory’ you mentioned earlier.”
“One and the same.”
She chuckled. “I was never more proud of you, my dear. You showed the snake a lot of backbone.”
“It was a gift from the Lord. Last night.”
“Odd, though,” Aunt Phoebe remarked. “He reminded me vaguely of someone.”
Eliza laughed aloud. “I thought the same thing once, myself. But believe me, Auntie, I was entirely mistaken.”
With a nod of agreement, she looked directly into Eliza’s eyes. “And are you truly all right now?”
Smiling, she stood to help the dear woman to her feet. “I feel a bit like someone who just survived a battle, but it’s comforting to be on the side that won. Do you suppose a cup of tea might be in order now, for a celebration?”
“I do, indeed.”
But despite her brave show of force, Eliza couldn’t help feeling sad for the girl who’d once been her cherished friend and whose life now was ruined. Silently she asked the Lord to heal Melanie Brown and to restore her self-respect.
