Eliza nodded decisively. “Now, if you can show me where the breakfast room is, I am a little hungry.” She felt inordinately pleased to have cleared that particular hurdle without too much embarrassment and followed the maid from the room.
Within moments she found herself entering the luxuriously furnished breakfast room. In the centre of the large room stood a long, highly polished table set with the finest crystal and silverware that positively gleamed in the early morning sunshine.
At the far end, two beautiful ladies sat deep in conversation as they ate toast and fruit.
“You must be Eliza.” The tall, dark haired lady with a large rounded tummy stood and smiled warmly at her, beckoning her closer. “Dominic told me last night you were here. I’m Isobel, Dominic’s wife and this is Amelia.”
She stood back and motioned to an auburn haired woman sitting next to her.
Within moments Eliza found herself seated beside them, eating breakfast supplied by an efficient footman while patiently answering the steady flow of questions.
Time passed quickly and when the plush dining chairs became uncomfortable, they moved from the breakfast room into an equally elegant sitting room. Decorated in hues of yellow and cream, the room was clearly a lady’s room.
Once seated Isobel summoned a tray of tea leaving Eliza with barely the time to draw breath before the questions flowed again. After her initial hesitation, Eliza could detect no censure or disgust at any of her answers so decided not to spare them. Clearly they were curious and didn’t like the fact that their expectant status meant they couldn’t be directly involved. Eliza felt a little sorry for them and readily detailed the conflict in the inn, along with Peter’s determination to get to Derby Gaol without delay. Although in deference to their condition, spared them details of the bloodshed and bodies they had left behind.
By the time the questions ran dry, the butler appeared in the doorway to announce luncheon. Eliza looked at the man in surprise. She had already eaten more at breakfast than she had eaten in several days and was still full. With a sigh she followed the ladies from the room towards the front of the house and the dining room, wondering if she would be as fat as a barrel by the end of the week. She crossed the huge expanse of marbled hallway and glanced curiously out of the front windows.
“Wait.” Her heart thumped heavily in her chest as she moved closer to the window to get a better look at the approaching riders.
In her heart she knew who it was.
Exhilaration warred with abject fear as she counted heads. Down the long length of the driveway it was impossible to tell who was riding, but Dominic, Sebastian, Edward and Peter had ridden out. Unless someone was lagging behind quite badly, there were only three riders returning.
She frowned as she studied the horse Edward was leading. Had Peter decided to stay in Derby? She studied the riders closely and identified Edward riding slightly ahead of the group. His broad shoulders and the slight tilt of his head were so achingly familiar to her that she knew she would have been able to identify him whether it was day or night. Dominic and Peter were riding close behind.
“Are they back?” Amelia queried, moving her ample girth to stand beside Eliza.
“It looks like Sebastian isn’t with them.” Isobel murmured from her position on the other side of Eliza.
“Do they have Jemima with them?” Eliza asked, craning her neck to see better, as the riders moved apart temporarily to reveal Sebastian driving a cart closely behind them.
“What’s that?” Amelia scowled at the cart.
Eliza felt sick as she moved slowly out of the room to stand in the hallway. It seemed an age before the clinking of the bridles and the soft snicker of horses drew loud enough to announce the imminent arrival of the men. She was vaguely aware of Izzy and Amelia moving to stand on either side of her and Izzy clasping her hand tightly as they waited.
She felt as though she was viewing things down a tunnel as she watched the door slowly swing inwards, a solemn looking Edward standing in the opening.
Immediately she knew.
Without a word from him, she knew what he was about to say. His face was stark as he stared remorsefully at her. He gaze was locked on her as he walked steadily forwards, closely followed by Dominic and Peter.
“I’m sorry Eliza.” Edward murmured softly, dreading having to impart the devastating news.
Eliza stared at him, horror welling within her as she stared past him, out of the open doorway towards the cart Sebastian had drawn to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps. She took a few steps forward and drew to a stop as Edward’s arm swept supportively around her preventing her from going further.
Her stunned gaze flicked first to Dominic, who upon entering had moved to hug his wife, and Peter whose devastation was clear for all to see.
Wide eyes turned back to Edward as his next words fell like stones rippling the thick layer of grief that shrouded her.
“We tried everything possible, but were just too late to save her.”
“When? When did she-?” Eliza whispered; her choked voice barely audible.
“This morning.”
Eliza sucked in a breath and closed her eyes as she thought of her own morning enjoying the delights of the new dress, and the sumptuous breakfast she had eaten while forming friendships with the ladies.
Meanwhile her sister, the only family member she had left, was being hung by the neck in a horrifying, lingering death before a baying crowd who had paid for the pleasure of watching her die.
Bile lurched into her throat and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick all over the hallway floor.
“We were too late.” She whispered, doing nothing to swipe the tears away from her drawn face. “Oh God Edward, we were too late.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” Edward murmured, trying to ease her into the study only for Eliza to dig her heels in, refusing to budge from the cold marble floor.
“Where is she going?” She didn’t need to see the contents to understand the need for the cart.
“We’re going to move her to one of the back rooms. She can stay there until we can arrange the funeral. The maids will prepare her.” Dominic picked up her cold hands, his jaw clenched with all of the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I am so very sorry Eliza.” He murmured softly, feeling his own chest tighten with guilt and remorse.
Peter disappeared out of the front door, sweeping past Sebastian and Edward without a glance.
“Why don’t you go and sit in the study with Izzy and Amelia while we move her.” Dominic murmured, waiting only until the ladies moved forward to support Eliza before following the men out of the house.
Eliza ignored the prodding of Amelia and Isobel and remained where she was. Her eyes were fixed on the cart as Jemima’s body was slid on the board on which she lay into the waiting hands of the four men assembled on either side.
Sobs tore from Eliza’s throat as the body of her sister was carried solemnly past her into the house. Grief unlike any she had ever known swept battered her senses and buckled her knees. With a low moan of disbelief she crumpled onto the cold marble and began to rock.
The pain was so physical, it was overwhelming. If she could have run away from it she would have, only she knew that there was no escape from the haze of horrified disbelief that had taken hold. It would remain with her for the rest of her life.
She was oblivious to all attempts to help her stand and move to the study, the thick fog of grief broken only when Edward swept her unconditionally into his arms. Without hesitation he carried her up the long sweeping staircase to the solitude and quiet of her room, placing her onto the bed as though she was made of delicate porcelain before lying beside her and gathering into his arms.
“I’m so sorry.” He murmured, over and over again as she gave in to the pain. She stopped sobbing only briefly and disappeared behind the retiring screen to lose the contents of her stomach. When she didn’t immediately reappear, Edward followed her
and found her staring blankly at the wall, tears pouring silently down her face.
Gently guiding her back towards the bed, he tucked her beneath the covers and simply held her while she battled with the confusing mass of emotions.
Eventually her tears subsided and she slipped into an exhausted doze.
Edward stared blindly out of the window and tried to block out the stark events that had taken place earlier that day.
What happened would remain with him – with all of them - for the rest of his life, and he knew Peter would never recover.
He was eternally grateful Eliza hadn’t gone to the Gaol with them and seen Jemima in her final hours before she was led to the gallows. Or the horrifying moment when Peter had made one final, desperate attempt to prevent her death – and failed.
He wondered if the friendship between Dominic and Peter would ever be the same again, and doubted it. He couldn’t see how any friendship could survive what Dominic had felt the need to do. What they had all felt they had to do.
The events of the morning had far reaching consequences for everyone, not least the woman who now lay dead on the make-shift table in one of the coldest rooms of the house.
They had agreed not to inform Eliza that Jemima had been placed in one of the unused storage rooms at the back of the kitchens. Nobody had the callousness to leave her in the darkness of the cellar having spent the final hours of her life in the dank, fetid and unlit condemned cell. She would remain in the unfurnished room while they found someone to prepare her for the funeral and arrange for the ground to be broken in preparation for her funeral.
Peter had tried to insist on burying her at Willowbrook, but Sebastian had argued that they were all still at considerable risk from Scraggan. They couldn’t run the risk of anything happening that would prevent Jemima’s arrival at a suitable place of rest. It was better for everyone, including Eliza, to get the burial over with as soon as possible.
It was the mention of Eliza that had broken Peter out of his stubborn refusal to give way and he had lapsed into disgruntled silence that had remained throughout the rest of their long journey back to Havistock.
Edward had returned on leaden feet, dreading the inevitable moment when he had to impart the devastating news. It had been as bad as he had envisaged. Her soft keening cry of pain still echoed hauntingly in his ears. His hands had been full with helping the others carry Jemima through the house and it had been an indeterminable age before he had been able to give her the comfort she so desperately needed.
Now he had, he felt so frustratingly helpless at his lack of ability to ease her pain that he wanted to hit something. His thirst for vengeance against Scraggan and his son Rogan, was about equal to Peter’s and wild horses wouldn’t prevent him leaving to bring the lawless criminal down.
Nobody had been unmoved by the performance Jemima had put on for Peter’s benefit, or her calm acceptance of her fate that couldn’t be prevented. He had no doubt that every man there would have been proud to be related to such a remarkable woman. He could only hope that they could bring her justice, and eventually clear her name. Failure to do so would undoubtedly mean failure for the family and that was unconscionable.
Drawing Eliza closer against him, Edward closed his eyes and fell into a troubled sleep, determined more than ever to protect the woman in his arms for the rest of his life.
If only she would let him.
Eliza awoke later that day. In the first few seconds of consciousness returning she was aware of the Edward’s wonderfully comforting embrace and relished the sheer joy of being able to lie with him, before the cold, stark reality of Jemima’s death slammed down on her with brutal force.
“Eliza?” Edward’s soft voice rumbled in her ear.
Suddenly Eliza was so very glad he was there and shuffled around until she was facing him. Her sad eyes met and held his in silent query.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was filled with remorse as he stared solemnly down at her.
“It’s not your fault.” She whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her trembling hand rose to trail the sharp curve of his jaw, the thick patch of morning bristles digging sharply into her sensitive fingertips.
“We tried everything to get a stay of execution so we could try to get her pardoned.” He chose his words carefully.
He didn’t want her to ask too many questions about what happened that morning. Not only did he not want to lie to her, but he knew that despite their relatively short acquaintance Eliza was intuitive enough to pick up any hesitation in him and pester him until she knew everything.
They had all agreed that Eliza was never to learn of the exact events of the morning.
“You spoke to her?” Eliza whispered, watching Edward through tear-filled eyes.
“Briefly.” His eyes met and held hers. “She just asked me to look after you.”
“Where did Peter’s black eye come from?”
“Dominic knocked him out.” Edward replied cautiously. Already the questions had begun to tumble out of her, and he didn’t want her to ask too much. A thin veil of tension shimmered through him as he waited for her next bout of questions.
“Why?”
“Because Peter became extremely distressed when it became evident we couldn’t save her. We couldn’t do anything to stop her return to the cell. As she left Peter became really angry, so Dominic was left with no choice but to knock him out. He was unconscious for some time.” Long enough for them to leave the area for several hours.
“He came round when it was over.”
It was bad enough to learn of Jemima’s fate in the security of Havistock Hall; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Peter. To actually be so close yet not be able to do anything to prevent the execution of the one who held your heart must be devastating.
“Poor Peter.” She whispered, feeling sad for Peter’s loss as well as her own.
“It should never have happened. She should never have been killed like that.” Edward declared flatly. “We will get to the bottom of what happened, and we will get vengeance.”
Eliza shivered at his icy declaration and sat up, turning to stare at him as he lay propped up on the soft mound of pillows.
“Don’t you think there has been enough death and destruction?” She stared at him aghast, struggling to withhold the anger and disgust at his declaration. Anger at the cruel twist of fate that had taken the only relative she had left; fury at Scraggan for his evil and wicked ways; disgust at the judiciary system for not listening to reason and postponing the execution until they had all the facts.
“Peter feels the same way.” Edward argued, sensing her anger. Although he knew it was the wrong time to discuss it, he was relieved to see the spark of fire back into her eyes. The delicate pink hue on her cheeks was the first he had seen for several days, and it suited her far more than the pale, haunting look of fear and worry, and ultimately grief.
“If I know Peter, as soon as the fog of grief eases he will be heading out to search out Scraggan and won’t return until the man is hanging from the gallows himself.” Edward sat up and cupped Eliza’s chin in his fingers, his eyes hard and determined. “I will be going with him. Not only-.” He raised a hand to stem the protests he could see brewing in Eliza’s horrified eyes and continued. “Not only because Peter cannot face this alone, with only a rag-tag militia with him, but because I want vengeance too. For all of the misery and pain Scraggan has caused you. I want the spectre of this man removed from our lives once and for all, so we can put him behind us and get on with our future.”
“Edward, you have seen how many men there are. Scraggan has a veritable army at his disposal. At each inn we have been to, they have appeared. They have tracked us up and down the country relentlessly. Fought and challenged us on every occasion. Do you really think that a handpicked group of half a dozen men is going to thwart someone like Scraggan? It’s suicide.” Eliza knew her voice had risen to a near-shout but couldn’t stop the
swelling tide of anger that seemed to surge from nowhere. “I hate the man as much as you do and believe me, nobody will be as happy as I to see him swing from the gallows. But you need a bigger army than the one Dominic and Peter used before. They couldn’t catch him in Norfolk and he wasn’t half as powerful as he is now. What makes you think you can succeed now?”
Edward sat up and returned her frown. “We will succeed because this time we have a bloody good reason to need to see the man and his son swing from the gallows. No man is beyond the law, including Scraggan.”
A small part of him felt a shiver of satisfaction that was she was so concerned about his safety.
“You’re going to get yourself killed. Then what? Hasn’t there been enough death and destruction? What about Sebastian and Peter? What will they do if they lose their younger brother? What will I do? I cannot bury you too!” Eliza’s voice trembled at the image of Edward’s body being carried into the house rose sharply in her mind, and she shuddered against the tide of bile that threatened once more.
“I am not going to get killed. Eliza-.” Edward watched as Eliza jumped off the bed and slammed out of the room.
He wasn’t sure where she was going, but couldn’t run the risk that she would run blindly out of the house and into danger. Although there was numerous staff working at various locations around the house, they didn’t know where Scraggan was based and couldn’t run the risk that he was hiding on the immense grounds.
He briefly thought of Amelia’s abduction from the grounds of Tingdale Hall and how easy it had been for her captors to spirit her away without being challenged. It was enough to make him lunge from the bed and tear out of the room after her.
“Eliza?” Edward called, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the hallway. “Eliza?”
Dominic appeared in the Library doorway, a dark scowl on his face.
“Have you seen her?” Edward demanded, stalking past towards the rear of the house.
“No, when did she leave?”
“A couple of minutes ago - she was upset.” Edward snapped, pushing open doors to several rooms as he passed, making his way systematically to the rear of the house.
Chasing Eliza Page 19
