Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

Matthew sat at the kitchen table, his unseeing eyes roaming over the same page again and again before he finally put the book aside. It was useless to try to distract himself when the only thing he could think about was the awkwardness between him and Elizabeth over the last two days.

He should have already begun his journey back to Ravenshire. He was well enough to travel without much pain, and he could finish his healing at his own home without imposing further upon the vicar and Elizabeth.

But he hated to leave with things so strained with the latter.

She left early today, leaving a note on the table stating she had errands to run and visits to conduct and wouldn’t be back until afternoon. A pot with lunch was keeping warm on the stove.

The house was strangely quiet without her. He’d been alone in the vicarage before, but not for this long. Even the vicar had gone for a visit to one of his patrons and wouldn’t be back until evening.

He rose from the table and grabbed a bowl, filling it with the stew Elizabeth had made. It was fragrant and thick, and he was certain it would be as delicious as everything else she made.

Not only was she a skilled cook, she also had a gift for making everyone she dealt with feel important and cared for—everyone except the vicar, apparently. He didn’t understand why the man was so cold towards his only child.

Had he always been indifferent and Elizabeth hadn’t realized? Had he changed after he was widowed? Whatever the reason, there was no excuse for him to take his daughter for granted. She was a gem, and her father was a fool for not realizing that.

A frantic pounding at the door startled him and he dropped his spoon into his bowl.

He hurried over and threw it open. A young woman, no more than nineteen or twenty, pushed through the doorway. When she faced him, he noted the bruise on one cheek and the fear in her eyes. She shrank from him a little.

A cold fury seethed within him. Someone had hit this woman.

“Do you need help?”

“Please, he’s so angry and I’m afraid! I didn’t know where to go.”

Sticking his head outside, he glanced both ways, seeing no one. “Did he follow you?”

“I don’t know! I ran as fast as I could without looking to see if he followed.”

He slammed the door shut, barring it with the plank that stood ready for that purpose.

What could he do to soothe this woman until Elizabeth returned? Grabbing the teapot from the table, he poured some into a cup and set it before her.

“From whom are you hiding?”

A guilty look crossed her face. “My husband. I know I’m supposed to obey him and that he has the right to treat me how he wishes. If I didn’t make him so angry, he wouldn’t hit me.”

“No,” he said shortly. “This is not your doing. A decent man doesn’t hit his wife, no matter the reason. It’s barbaric and inexcusable.”

She blinked at him. “Do you believe so?”

“Absolutely. I don’t care what the prevailing belief is, there’s no reason for brutality in a marriage. You did the right thing by coming here.”

He had no idea what Elizabeth would do when she returned, but he was sure she’d want to help this woman. In the meantime, he would try to calm her.

Matthew was about to offer her lunch when the door shook with a ferocious pounding. Her shoulders hunched near her ears and her eyes grew wide with fright.

“Agatha! Are you in there?” More pounding followed the question.

Her anguished eyes shot to his. “Please, please don’t let him in,” she whispered.

“I promise I won’t. Please come with me. I’m going out the back door and I’ll need you to bar it after I leave, then find a good hiding place.”

She nodded at him, her face still fearful but also determined. Despite the tension in his body, he smiled at her encouragingly before hurrying to the back entrance.

Elizabeth fanned herself with the post she’d picked up, trying to find some relief from the warm afternoon sun. She stayed away from the vicarage as long as she possibly could while ensuring she’d be home in time to make supper before Papa arrived back from his visit to Aberley House.

She hurried around the corner and stopped in her tracks. Matthew stood in the front garden with raised fists while another man circled him. She broke into a run before recognizing Horace Albright, local bully and drunkard, as the man taking a swing at the earl.

“Stop!”

At her cry, Matthew turned his head and was sucker-punched by Horace. With a fierce growl that made her shiver, Matthew whirled back around and, with a ferocious punch, dropped Horace to the ground.

When she arrived by his side, he huffed and panted, looking down with contempt at the man he’d knocked out. Lifting one hand, he wiped at the bloody corner of his mouth.

“You’re hurt!” Dropping her packages to the ground, she reached for her handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth, inspecting it for damage.

Her fingers moved over Matthew’s face, looking to see where else he might have been injured, before skimming over his chest.

He grabbed her hands and stilled them, and she looked into his eyes. A heat blazed there. She swallowed and took a step back.

Matthew dropped her hands. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” she huffed. “You were having a fistfight, mere weeks after nearly dying! What’s gotten into you?”

“He started it,” he answered, sounding like a sullen little boy.

She bit back a smile. “How so?”

“His wife came here a short while ago. He’d been beating her, and she fled here. I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do it again.”

An awful chill ran through her body. She knew Agatha was unhappy in her marriage, but the woman had never mentioned how bad things were. If she had, Elizabeth didn’t know how she could have helped, but she would have found a way somehow.

“Is she still here?”

Matthew nodded, remaining quiet.

Elizabeth approached the door and rapped softly. “Mrs. Albright? It’s me, Miss Stanley. It’s safe to unbar the door. Mr. Albright is…indisposed, and unable to enter.”

A few moments passed before the curtain moved aside and Agatha’s fearful face appeared. Then the bar was lifted, and the door opened.

Elizabeth approached with care and studied Agatha’s face, trying not to flinch at the ugly bruise turning her cheek purple.

As Agatha’s face crumpled into tears, she took the woman into her arms and held her, letting her weep.

Matthew latched and barred the door behind them as she rocked Agatha until her tears subsided and she could seat her at the kitchen table with a cup of hot tea and a bite to eat.

What could she do to help this poor woman?