Page 41 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)

Chapter 41

Matlock

A supernatural hush had fallen over the estate. The earl’s jubilant triumph at discovering his brother alive was no greater than his biting distress over Richard’s condition. A telegram was sent post-haste to London to secure the services of a top surgeon, and every maid and footman flew about their duties with breathless urgency. Through it all, Richard slept in a feverish and drugged misery that the doctor pronounced to be “restorative.”

The earl, Darcy, and Elizabeth formed a revolving body of attendants those first hours after Richard’s arrival. Never were less than two of them hovering over his bed, and more frequently all three. It was not until the countess returned the following afternoon that Elizabeth could be prevailed upon to retire for a few hours. She leaned heavily on Lady Matlock’s shoulder as that good lady nearly bore her from the room, looking back with lingering regret in every step. Before the door closed, she caught Darcy’s eye, then finally turned away.

Darcy leaned forward, staring at the still figure on the bed while Reginald sagged in his chair, kneading his head in his hands. “I mean to have an answer for this,” the earl grumbled. “I will have that general’s stars, I will!”

“Have you wondered,” Darcy asked, “why he was travelling in secret? There must have been some reason. I would not be so hasty to contact the Army, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“What, you think Richard a deserter? Impossible,” Reginald scoffed. “He was born saluting king and country.”

“I would never accuse him of that, but does it not make you wonder? Is it possible he was on a secret mission?”

“To Scotland? Darcy, you need sleep as badly as I do.”

“You should go, then,” Darcy sighed tiredly. “I will sit with him.”

Reginald stubbornly made a fist and propped his jaw against it as he gazed at his brother. “Darcy, about Elizabeth...”

“Don’t. You can say nothing I have not already lectured myself with a dozen times over.”

“I had no intentions of stating the obvious. What I meant to say was for Richard’s sake. It might be better if he did not hear of your engagement to his wife. Not... not yet.”

“You think the telling will become easier with delay and concealment?” Darcy demanded bitterly. “The outcome is guaranteed, regardless.”

“I mean he is in no shape for a shock of that nature.” Reginald nodded towards the bed while jerking a thumb down the hall. “I have hopes that she will be just the medicine he needs. Sweet, caring girl like that, strong enough to stare down his demons and stick to his side? You would not threaten that too early, I hope.”

“I cannot threaten it at all! What shall I say? ‘Welcome back, we thought you were dead, so I moved in on your widow? Sorry about that, no hard feelings’?”

“Stop it, Darcy,” the earl snapped. “I understand your dilemma, but she belongs to him, and he needs her!”

Darcy hissed and raised from his seat. “Yes, he does. He’ll hear no grief from me over it.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get some sleep before my addled brain induces me to say something I cannot take back.” He paused at the door. “Send me word if he should wake.”

E lizabeth managed at least six hours of sleep, if the mantel clock was to be believed. She choked down a hasty breakfast and, finding no one poised to prevent her, hurried back to Richard’s room.

When she opened the door, she found not the earl or William— mercifully not William —but Georgiana sitting by the bed. The young woman lifted her head with a soft look of welcome and scooted over to make another seat.

“I did not know you were here,” Elizabeth whispered.

“You were in no mood to know much of anything last night,” Georgiana replied lightly. “I came with Lady Matlock.”

Elizabeth stared at the bed—Richard’s breath rising steadily in his chest, his complexion less pallid today—and reached instinctively for Georgiana’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“It was nothing. Richard is my favourite cousin, after all. And my other guardian, did you know that? My father wanted me to have someone with a sword to protect me.”

“I mean it,” Elizabeth replied in a firmer voice, ignoring Georgiana’s attempt at levity. “Jane is gone, off on her Happily Ever After. Even Billy is gone. I—oh, how I could use a friend just now! If I cannot have my sister, I am glad, awfully glad, to have you.”

Georgiana regarded her in silence and tightened her grip. “I never thought I would call you this, Elizabeth, but I would like to think of you as a sister, even though...” She broke off, then swallowed and nodded.

“We are back where we started,” Elizabeth replied with forced cheer. “Still family, yes?”

Georgiana nodded. “Yes, something of that kind. I do not know how to say these things, I suppose, but is there anything I can do?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No... yes.” She turned to stare intently at the girl. “Please, think well of me. I am so afraid of myself—what I might do or say in an unguarded moment. Please know that my spirit longs to remain faithful and true—I just no longer know to what, or how that should look.”

Georgiana sniffed and lifted her chin. She said nothing, but her eyes glittered in response.

They sat some while after this in silence. Occasionally, Richard would moan in his sleep, tossing his head from one side to the other. After an hour of irregular outbursts, Elizabeth noticed that his right eyelid was beginning to flutter, his hands to clench and unclench in the bedding. She nudged Georgiana, who was sitting a little taller now and watching Richard with the same interest.

“I’ll get someone,” Georgiana murmured.

Elizabeth moved to the bed and reached to touch his forehead... but hesitated. This scarred and suffering warrior was her own—the man who tried to save her in another life, the man to whom she had pledged herself. But he was not William .

She sucked in a bracing breath and bit her lip. Richard deserved every tenderness she had to offer, regardless of... anything. She scolded herself, commanding her quaking fingers that felt like betrayal, and laid her palm over his brow.

His fever was markedly lower. He stirred at her touch, flinching away and muttering, “No... stay... the camp! Go on, Giles...”

Elizabeth drew back her hand just as the door opened softly to admit an entire audience. The earl hastened to the bedside; the countess rushing to look over his shoulder. William and Georgiana trailed behind; their expressions tight.

“He is waking,” the earl declared. He took his brother’s hand and grinned in triumph when the fingers clasped his in reply. “Richard—Richard, can you hear me?”

Richard’s head jerked away. “No... get to cover... look sharp, Giles!”

“Richard, it is I, Reginald. You are home—safe at Matlock. Rest easy, man. Do you hear me?”

His breathing changed. Laboured gasps became ragged pants, and he jerked his hand away, then snatched and brushed at his wrist as though trying to free it from some binding.

“Richard!” The earl bent at the waist, nearly shouting, then he pulled back suddenly. “Elizabeth, perhaps your voice would be better.”

She shook her head, feeling William’s gaze on her, the nearness of his hand as he instinctively reached out. “No, my lord, I am sure—”

“Nonsense! What soldier does not dream of his girl at home? Come, it would do him good to hear you.”

She baulked, tried to conceive an excuse, and it was William who stepped up in her place.

“Leave her be, Reginald.” He dropped to a knee then and uttered a few soft words. “Richard, listen to my voice. You are safe—everyone is safe. I will take your hand now. Have no fear, it is only me. There... that is good.”

He kept up a soothing string of chatter, never demanding, simply reassuring. His words seemed to have a calming effect. Richard’s frantic thrashing stilled to rigid defiance, then, gradually, to weary acceptance.

“Squeeze my hand, Richard,” Darcy continued. “Yes, feel, it is me. Breathe slowly.”

Elizabeth felt Georgiana’s fingers slip into her own, and she clasped them fervently. Every breast in the room fell still as something seemed to shift in the figure on the bed.

“Look,” whispered the earl.

Richard’s right eye squeezed, then opened. He blinked for several seconds, rolling his gaze about the corners of his vision. Cracked lips parted. “D... Darcy?”

“Yes,” he encouraged. “We are all here. Reginald is just beside me.”

Richard’s teeth flashed, and he groaned. “Darcy, what the devil...”

“Now, just lie back,” Reginald admonished cheerfully from over William’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. You can tell us all when you have recovered your strength.”

Richard shook his head and lurched, trying to raise himself. “Bloody fools,” he was muttering.

The earl fairly pushed Darcy out of his way and hung over his brother. “Come, Richard, you cannot even sit up. You have been insensible for days! Lie back like a good chap. All is perfectly well. See—you are even in your old room. Our mother is two doors away, dressing to come to you, and your wife has been constantly at your bedside.”

“Mother...” Richard quieted somewhat.

“Yes, yes, she is coming. Better still, Elizabeth is already here. Surely, you have been eager to see her!”

“Elizabeth?” Richard rasped. “Elizabeth who?”

“Why... Elizabeth Fitzwilliam, man. Your wife!”

Richard’s eyelid fluttered, and his fists twisted in the blankets. Then, in a voice as confused as it was indignant, he demanded, “What wife?”

“D arcy, you had better damn well have an explanation for this!” The earl slammed back the chair of his desk and flung himself into it with a vengeance.

“I do, and that is why we must speak privately.”

“Privately? I want to hear from her own lips why my brother does not know the woman who claims to be his wife! Why were you so eager to drag me from the room—afraid of the truth, Darcy? Has she been a fraud, after all?”

“If she is,” Darcy spat, “why have I have had to relinquish her hand? She is telling the truth, but not the whole of it, and I will have you know it was at my encouragement, for better or worse, that she kept certain matters to herself.”

“Your encouragement? Your...” The earl snorted. “Just how many secrets have the two of you kept?”

“Only this. She is Richard’s wife, but the reason she became so was because it was dangerous for her to remain unwed. Richard married her to protect her from her own town, and then got on a train that very day. I doubt he ever expected to see her again, but he left her a way to reach us if she ever needed more help. And, as it happened, she did.”

Reginald pushed his fists into his desk and stood, leaning over it. “Why, Darcy? What was she running from? Poverty? A tarnished reputation? What?”

Darcy held his breath. “The law.”

Reginald narrowed his eyes. “What did she do?”

“Before I tell you—” Darcy held up a hand—“recall that Richard acted as he did for a reason. He felt it right to protect her—”

“ What did she do?”

“She... she was attacked, with brutal intent. She was still having nightmares about it for months...”

The earl clenched his teeth. “And what happened?”

Darcy shook his head. “She defended herself, and, ah... was accused of murder.”

Reginald sank into his seat. “Good Lord. You have brought a murderess into this house.”

“Hold there! First of all, it was Richard who married her and sent her to us for help.”

“And that is another thing! If all these things you say are true, how the devil does he have no recollection of her? A man does not get married and forget his wife!”

“He is barely conscious! Heaven knows what he himself has been through, but they parted not knowing if they would ever meet again. It is hardly surprising that other cares would have dominated his thoughts.”

Reginald jerked to his feet and stalked the room. “Assuming this is all true, what do we do now? We cannot very well carry on as if all is well.”

Darcy gritted his teeth and stared at the floor. “Why not?”

“Why not? Why not? Because she has blood on her hands!”

Darcy shot up in his cousin’s face. “So does your brother, but you do not condemn him! She did nothing you or I would not have done in her place. What would you prefer? That she had rolled over meekly, let the bastard have his way with her?”

“What I would prefer is not to have a woman of questionable merit in my house. Good heavens, Darcy, when were you planning to tell me? Never?”

“Precisely. The truth was good enough for Richard, and it is good enough for me. She did nothing wrong, Reginald.”

“You are not so na?ve as that! You said yourself the law was after her. Even if they cannot pursue her here, think of the complications! This is the last sort of trouble we need just now.”

“On the contrary,” Darcy seethed, “she is just what we need—what I needed to drink deeply from the well of life, and what Richard needs now. You said it yourself not twenty-four hours ago. Are you so quick to doubt? More than a strong and cheerful woman, she is the only one in this house who has an inkling of what he suffers.”

The earl scoffed. “I should think the very best London surgeons and his own mother would be comfort enough.”

“And you would be wrong. I have heard him tell of it before—the terrible remorse that comes over a man after the heat of battle. They do not speak of it, and he will never reveal it to someone who was not there, but mark my words; the man lying upstairs is not the same man who waved to you from that steamer last year.”

“No, he is not! He lost his bleeding eye and is riddled with scars I cannot begin to describe!”

“And not all those scars are visible. Look, Reginald, if he is to have any hope of mending his soul, it will start with the one who can understand his pain without the bother of words. You trusted her before—we all did. She is the same woman she was three days ago.”

“Three days ago, she was your fiancée, and quite enamoured of that fact. Everyone saw and heard it. Was it all a lie? She professed a love for you that would make any swain burn with envy, and I will even confess to a bit of jealousy myself. You tell me now that she will happily abandon you for a man she barely knew? Come, Darcy, if she is half the woman you claim she is, she would never do it.”

“She is twice the woman I claimed her to be,” Darcy growled. “Watch her—she will be as devoted to him as she ever was to me.”

“A battered soldier with one eye? You tell me she will honestly turn from you—handsome, wealthy, and in full possession of your faculties—to be content with nursing a man not even in his right mind? If she had married him for love, I could believe it, but with what you tell me, I do not think any woman capable of it. Better to send her away now than permit her to poison—”

“I will leave,” Darcy announced.

Reginald blinked. “What?”

“I will go—London, for now, and perhaps even to Boston with Georgiana. Without me as a distraction...”

The earl looked dazed, disbelieving. “Ridiculous. We need you here, Darcy. Richard needs you. Hell, I need you! You are a useful fellow when a man is up to his eyeballs in trouble. Come, you cannot flee to America now!”

“For her? And for Richard? Yes, I would, if only so she did not sense me looking on while...” Darcy swallowed and shook his head. “No, that is not true. I would do it for myself, so I did not have to watch the woman I love become a wife to a man I could never betray. I cannot do it, Reginald.”

“But...” The earl’s face had gone white to the lips, and he extended a hand. “You would not go right away.”

Darcy closed his eyes and turned away. “Not until I know Elizabeth will be well.”

Wyoming May 1900

T wo days after receiving Richard’s letter, Elizabeth dared to put her foot outside the house for the first time. The isolation and confinement of her circumstances were close to making her manic, but Uncle Gardiner had been firm on his restrictions.

“Please,” she begged him over breakfast, “it cannot be so bad now. Nothing has happened; no one has broken down our gates. I cannot very well stay in this house the rest of my life. Let me work in the storeroom if nothing else.”

Mr Gardiner wiped his mouth and shared a serious look with his wife. That good lady sighed and patted Elizabeth’s hand. “I am not certain it is the time yet, Lizzy. People are slow to forget these things.”

“But what else can we do that we have not done? I married the colonel to protect my image—though I wonder if anyone else suspects it was all a sham and he will never come back. But still, I have a letter from him—the rail master had to see it come through, and surely everyone knows about it. The sheriff has declared me innocent, and even the mayor has spoken in my defence. You have carried on business as usual at the general store, and no one has exactly shunned you.”

“Only because they need what I sell,” Mr Gardiner replied. “Your aunt was not invited to the last quilting bee, and John Lucas has ceased his attentions to Jane.”

“Attentions? He walked home from church with her once, and she never liked him anyway.”

Mrs Gardiner shook her head. “Patience, Lizzy. You are correct that matters are sure to return to normal, but too soon—”

“But I am not speaking of working in the front or walking boldly down the street with the other girls. I just need something to do, some purpose! Please, Aunt, all this waiting is more maddening than facing whatever I must face. Besides, do you not think it would be better if you all did not hide me away? It makes me look more guilty, not less, and then you bear the public shame that should be mine.”

Mr Gardiner chewed his lip and looked long at his wife.

“I will stay out of sight once I am in the storeroom. Only a minute on the street, and I will walk when no one is about,” Elizabeth pleaded.

Mrs Gardiner lifted a hand of resignation. “Oh, very well, Lizzy. Just for today, and we will see what happens.”

Elizabeth shot to her feet to kiss both aunt and uncle on the cheek. “Thank you! I’ll go dress.”

W orking did wonders for her spirits. A bit of sweat, some weary muscles, and her mind was soothed far better than it had been by pacing her room. Elizabeth hoisted the heavy sack of flour—the one Billy should have been carrying—and tossed it over her shoulder to take it to the loading dock.

“Lizzy?” Jane came through the swinging door from the front, a slip of paper in her hand. “Mrs Harris wants a sack of oats, and Mr Sutherland from the saloon sent an order for more salt.”

Elizabeth turned, balancing as best she could. “I’ll have Billy take it over.”

Jane gave her a look very much like the one Uncle Gardiner had given her earlier. “Just don’t lose your patience with him and do it yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Elizabeth answered with a jaunty salute. She turned back and finished carrying the flour to the back door, where Billy was—slowly—loading a wagon.

After that task was finished and Billy had ambled off with Mr Sutherland’s salt, Elizabeth decided to tidy up the loading dock. A bag of corn meal had split earlier, leaving a gritty, slippery mess that was only partially cleared. No one was around at present to see her, so she reached for a broom and set to work.

Fifteen minutes later, the cornmeal was all swept away, but as is so often the case, Elizabeth continued to find more to clean, more to do. Her mind wandered, back over the last few weeks and everything that had happened. That evening of dancing, all those rides to see her father, Colonel Fitzwilliam… Her lips pinched.

She could still not fathom that she had married the man. Not that she would regret coming to know him better—if she ever saw him again—but married! This odd arrangement was so far removed from what she expected of marriage that she did not even feel comfortable using the word. And what if he did come back? What if he wrote to her, asked her to come to him in England someday? Could she do it? Would she even want to?

Her brow was knit over such ponderings, her mind entirely lost. When boots stomped up the steps behind her, she took them only for Billy returning from the saloon. A moment later, a stream of brown spittle landed at her feet. She stared, then slowly lifted her eyes.

“Well, if it ain’t the murderin’ trollop,” sneered the man.

Elizabeth’s fists tightened on her broom handle when she recognised Jerry, one of the hands who had worked under Jake Bryson. “Leave me be,” she rasped.

Jerry snorted and looked around to his fellows. “Hear that? The kitty can hiss. D’ya have any claws, kitty?”

Elizabeth raised her broom like a weapon, her eyes scanning the four men, and she slowly backed toward the door. “My uncle is inside, and the sheriff just across the street. Would you really trouble a woman in broad daylight?”

“Well, now, that all depends,” Jerry said. Moving quickly, he shot a cuff around her neck, while one of the other men snatched the broom from her hands. Jerry pulled her chin close to his. “Silas Bryson don’ like you, see. He’s going to watch you hang—you and that worthless pa of yours.”

Elizabeth shoved both fists against him and staggered back, then wiped the sweat from Jerry’s palm off her cheek with a snarl. “I’m not afraid of Bryson.”

“What about that pretty sister?” Jerry licked his lips. “I’ve seen her—Jake wanted the hellcat, but I always liked me a sweet blonde. Maybe she’d make Old Man Bryson happy, eh?”

Elizabeth kicked him in the kneecap. “Watch your filthy mouth, Jerry!” she shouted as he stumbled for his footing. An instant later, two men had her by the elbows as Jerry swore and tried to stand up straight. She fought, shaking her head back and forth and stomping on their toes whenever she could, but if they truly wished to restrain her, there would be nothing she could do.

Fortunately, they only meant to terrorise her, for one of them let his hands slip, and she pinwheeled against the other, who acted as if he would grope and kiss her. “Got your pistol today, Missy?” he sneered. “Come on, show me!”

Elizabeth spun away and ran for the door, but Jerry cut her off. She was panting now—whimpering, even—and she turned back. The only way into the safety of the storeroom that they had not blocked was the window, and she charged for it with every ounce of her strength. She picked up a block of wood and smashed it into the pane, beating it over and over until the window was entirely broken, and hoping at the very least to alert someone inside to her plight.

Glass showered all around. She shot a hasty look over her shoulder—the men were still close, crowding and taunting her. One started to reach for her waist to pull her away from the window, making her even more determined to climb through. She set her boot on a crate and reached up for the frame, but someone caught her skirts and tripped her. She fell, hands outstretched into the shards.

“I say!” Billy’s voice quavered over the jeering of the others. “Y-you there! Mr Gardiner, come quickly!”

Elizabeth pushed up to her hands and knees, shaking like a leaf. Never had Billy’s voice been so welcome! The alarm was all that was needed for the hands to pull back, but they did not seem overly fearful.

“Brave man,” one of them laughed at her cousin. “What do you think was goin’ on, Billy? We was just talkin’ to the lady.”

“G-go on, you! Sheriff Nelson!” Billy hung back until they had cleared off the loading dock, then his eyes widened. “Lizzy!” he gulped. “You’re bleeding!”

Elizabeth rolled to a sitting position, numbly staring at the angry gashes crossing her palms and forearms. Blood poured from everywhere—mostly superficial scratches, but in two or three places, a shard stuck deep into her skin.

“Lizzy! Good heavens!” Jane was at her side now, gasping and pale. Her sister’s hands fluttered uselessly, searching for something to do. “We need Aunt!” she cried. “Can you stand?”

Elizabeth instinctively tried to put out her hands to push her quaking body to her feet, then stopped herself. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

Dimly, she heard masculine voices exchanging heat and rancour—Uncle Gardiner was outside now, and from across the street marched the sheriff. At last, they ran off her tormentors, with threats of arrests if they did not disperse immediately. Elizabeth could only stare at her hands, at that bit of glass jutting out from the heel of her palm.

Jane and Billy were both at her sides now, dragging her up by her arms as Mrs Gardiner came to her. Elizabeth could hardly meet her aunt’s broken gaze.

“Take her inside,” Mrs Gardiner told the others. “I feared something like this.”