Page 18 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

eighteen

A FTER THE BALL, a day spent walking Hyde Park’s busy paths, shopping, and drinking tea in the teahouses had done nothing to cheer Elizabeth up.

She’d left home early that morning, barely eating her breakfast, and decided to stay away from home for as long as possible to think.

Her heart was torn in two. A part of her understood why a connection with Christopher was dangerous for her family. But another part didn’t listen to reason. The prejudice against Christopher was unfair. He was a better man than many others she knew.

Perhaps the best thing she could do was marry Pearce to have the opportunity to protect Christopher. With time, she might convince Pearce to help his brother out of whatever dubious situation he was in. Or maybe she was simply trying to convince herself she didn’t want to leave her house, face the world alone, and do whatever she pleased with all the dangers that decision would bring.

No, if anything, she was sure of one thing—she didn’t want to marry Pearce. And the more everyone pushed her towards him, the more she grew convinced that marrying him would be the biggest mistake of her life.

The only possible solution was to have an honest conversation with him and make him understand she didn’t want to become his duchess, courtship or not, diamond ring or not.

Dusk had fallen by the time she walked towards the carriage to go home. Her body was sore from the walk, and the beginning of a headache throbbed. She’d send a message to Pearce as soon as she arrived home, asking him to see her the very next day. Mother would have to accept her decision. Just thinking about breaking her almost engagement made her chest lighter.

The footman opened the door to the carriage for her, and she was about to climb in when a passing landau sprayed mud on her skirt.

“Botheration.” She frowned at the offending stain.

“Elizabeth.” Maude with her inseparable friend Irene stopped next to her on the pavement. She glanced at Elizabeth’s stained skirt. “Oh, mud.”

Elizabeth arched her brow, giving a curt nod as a quick greeting.

“Finally, you got what you deserved,” Irene said.

The mud?

The two ladies laughed.

“How does it feel?” Irene asked.

“I don’t understand.” Elizabeth shifted her gaze from one woman to the other.

“The moment when a rumour becomes a certainty is always a shock,” Maude said. “At least for the person at the centre of the gossip.”

Oh no. The blasted wedding again. She put a foot on the step to climb into the carriage. “The Duke of Grafton and I haven’t decided to get married.”

Maude nodded. “Oh, we know.”

“Have a lovely evening, Elizabeth.” Irene smiled, walking away with her friend.

The two ladies paused to glance over their shoulders at her before speeding up and leaving her puzzled.

She wondered what Maude meant. Not that she would complain if Pearce had finally started to tell everyone that their wedding wasn’t certain, but the lady’s tone hinted at something else.

A flutter of activity animated the entry hall when she arrived home. Maids and footmen rushed by, casting her sideways glances and barely pausing to greet her.

She didn’t have time to remove her coat before the butler approached her.

“Lady Elizabeth.” He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Your parents and His Grace, the Duke of Grafton, are waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Odd. “Thank you, Haughton.”

A maid took her coat but didn’t meet her gaze.

She might be imagining things, but she could swear the butler and the maid were scared. She entered the drawing room where the atmosphere was so tense the hairs on the back of her neck tickled her skin. If Pearce had come here to propose officially and announce their wedding, she’d take another walk.

He stood in front of the fireplace, an elbow propped on the mantelpiece. He shot her an incendiary glare that stole her breath. Father’s jaw was clenched so tightly she worried he would hurt himself, and Mother’s face was bloodless.

“What is it?” she asked no one in particular.

Father nodded at the footman to leave. He didn’t speak until the doors were shut. “His Grace needs to talk to you.”

She angled towards Pearce who looked like he didn’t want to see her at all. “Is something the matter?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked in all seriousness.

Mother shivered, folding her hands on her lap.

Elizabeth gazed around at a loss. “I don’t understand.”

“Please,” Father said. “No lies. He knows everything.”

“About what?”

“Where have you been?” Pearce walked over to her, his eyebrows forming a deep V.

“I went shopping and took a walk. Why, what happened?”

He gripped her chin in a firm hold. “You’re lying.”

A wave of outrage shocked her. She stepped out of his reach, feeling his fingers still on her chin.

“I’m not. How dare you?” She glanced at her parents for support, but they shook their heads. “Why would I lie?”

Pearce’s face had none of its usual beauty. “You were with your lover.”

She let out a quick chuckle at the ridiculous accusation. “Absurd. What lover? You don’t make any sense.”

“My half-brother!” he said with contempt.

Mother clamped a hand over her mouth. Father stared at Elizabeth as if she were a stranger.

She clenched her fists. “I don’t know what caused you to believe such a lie, but I’m not Christopher’s lover.”

“There is a trusted witness who saw you and Blackwood alone at the ball last night,” Father said, “in a rather intimate attitude, talking about your next meeting. A meeting that would have happened today. You told him you would have left the house with an excuse and been with him all day.”

“Poppycock. I didn’t plan to stay out for the whole day. It was a sudden decision.” She whipped her head towards her mother. “Mother, you saw me. You know that nothing happened.”

“So you did meet Christopher last night,” Pearce said.

“Yes, by chance, but nothing happened. Mother, please. Why did you tell Pearce I’m Christopher’s lover?”

Mother swallowed a couple of times. “I’m not the witness, and I don’t know who the witness is. Only His Grace knows. I had no choice but to confess to having seen you and that man alone in a corridor, but there was someone else watching the scene. Someone who was there before me.”

“Who?”

Pearce shook his head. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Yes, because that person is lying. Who is lying?”

“I won’t tell you. I know how Christopher behaves. I know who he is. He won’t hesitate to harm the witness for revenge. And the witness isn’t the point.” He raised his voice again. “The point is that you lied to me and used me because you’re in love with Christopher, because you want to elope with him, because you favour him over me.”

“This is nonsense. Last night was the first time I’d seen Christopher in years. I didn’t have any contact with him, as I don’t have any now.”

“The witness?—”

“The witness is lying!” she said. “Is it Rebecca?”

Annoyed scoffs filled the air, but aside from that, Pearce denied it or confirmed it. She didn’t want to marry him, but she wouldn’t be accused of something she didn’t do.

“You couldn’t have disgraced this family more.” Father rubbed his forehead. “You’ve always had the tendency to cheat and lie.”

Not that again! “If you’re talking about that stupid competition, you don’t know me.”

“Perhaps I don’t,” Father said. “But I was referring to the blizzard. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass you and because Blackwood was who knew where, but I know you didn’t find shelter in our hunting lodge. I discovered it when I met Lord Bletchley who thanked me profusely for the hospitality in a moment of need.”

Tarnation . Elizabeth licked her dry lips.

“You’re a liar,” Father said. “At first, I thought you were confused. I didn’t suspect the truth, but now I believe you were with Blackwood during the storm, likely in that cottage that belonged to his mother.”

“I wasn’t with Christopher.” She was aware to be a terrible liar, but if there was a single chance to protect Christopher, she would try.

Pearce shook his head. “Goodness, you slept with him, didn’t you?”

Yes, but not in the way he meant. “No.” Her voice didn’t sound steady.

Mother sniffled.

Father had more to say though. “You must tell the whole truth to His Grace, and maybe, if he feels so inclined, he’ll forgive you.”

“Oh, that’s so generous of him. Pity that I have nothing to confess.” Her throat burned from her effort to control her temper.

“Then you can leave this house.” Father straightened.

She took a step back. “You don’t mean that.”

Mother turned her head away from Elizabeth.

“Mother. You know I’m not Christopher’s mistress.”

“You’ve always been interested in him despite my repeated warnings,” Mother said without looking at her. “How could you?”

“I didn’t do anything. Nothing ever happened with Christopher. You all just hate him!”

She swept the room with her gaze, hoping to find a friendly face, but there was none. She was alone against three executioners.

Pearce turned around as well as if disgusted with her. “You should be grateful I’m giving you the chance to confess and redeem yourself. I believe that deep down, you didn’t want to be unfaithful. Perhaps Christopher forced you. Did he force you? Did he threaten you?”

Every pair of eyes fixed on her in a silent warning.

“If he forced you,” Mother said, “you have nothing to fear. Everyone would understand. He’s such a despicable man?—”

“He didn’t force me.” Her breathing came out in quick pants. She would never, ever blame Christopher for something he hadn’t done, only to save herself. “Christopher isn’t a despicable man. He’s kind and honourable.”

“Think carefully, Elizabeth.” Mother glowered. “We’re talking about our reputation.”

“For the last time,” she gritted out. “Nothing happened, and Christopher would never force me.”

Pearce scoffed. “If you spend some time on your own, without the comforts you’re used to enjoying, you’ll come around and tell me the truth to redeem yourself.”

Redeem herself? The more she thought about that, the more frustrated she became. “I’m telling you the truth now. You’re too focused on yourself to see it.”

“Elizabeth!” Mother said.

“Enough!” Father opened the door. “Out. A bag with a few of your things has already been prepared. Inside, you’ll find a small amount of money. Do what you want. Don’t come back unless you mean to tell us the truth and you’re ready to redeem yourself.”

Again that awful word.

“No.” The room tilted. She didn’t know if it was anger or exhaustion. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t deserve this punishment.”

“This is my house,” Father said, “and you will leave. I’m sparing you the humiliation of having George escort you out kicking and screaming.”

“Leave,” Mother said. “Before you disgrace us further.”

Elizabeth was so enraged she couldn’t speak. Breathing was difficult, and a funny, pulsating dark spot filled her field of vision.

Desperation pushed her legs onwards, but Pearce held her back before she could cross the threshold.

“I respect your father. He was my father’s most trusted friend, and I don’t want to start a scandal that will destroy him and your siblings, but you’ll never see me again unless you’re ready to tell me the truth and beg for my forgiveness.”

“Good.” She marched out without glancing back at her parents.

If by ‘truth’ he meant her accusing Christopher of having forced her, then she didn’t have anything else to add.

A maid waited for her in the entry hall, standing next to a carpetbag. “Your bag, my lady. You’ll find five pounds in it.” She bobbed a quick curtsy before leaving.

Hot tears stung Elizabeth’s eyes, but she snatched the bag and walked out, wincing as the footman shut the door behind her. She strode along the pavement until the tears blurred her vision to the point she didn’t see anything.

Five pounds and a bag of clothes.

She had only to find a place to sleep that night. Tomorrow, she’d talk to her parents again and clear up the misunderstanding without accusing Christopher of forcing her.

After hailing a cab, she composed herself. Her parents had to see reason. She cared little about Pearce. His accusations hurt too deeply, but she would never beg him for forgiveness for something she hadn’t done. But she wanted to clear her name.

After that, she’d probably leave anyway because her parents’ lack of trust was unforgivable. She might spend some time in the country with her sister until she figured out what to do.

The cab stopped in front of Rebecca’s house. Elizabeth knocked on the door, aware it was night and she was unannounced. But Rebecca might be involved in this affair, and Elizabeth needed to talk to her.

A cold shiver crawled down her back as her anger-fuelled energy dwindled. She shifted her weight, her breath turning into mist.

“Keadew Residence.” A maid stared at her with concern.

“I’m Lady Elizabeth. I’d like to see Miss Norton.” She moved to enter, but the maid didn’t let her pass.

“Wait here.” The maid shut the door in her face.

The shock caused Elizabeth to remain still. It wasn’t the first time she’d visited Rebecca, not at this hour, but the servants knew who she was.

The door inched open again, and Rebecca appeared on the threshold, glancing behind her shoulder. “Why did you come here?”

“You know what happened.”

“Not really. I know enough to understand I shouldn’t talk to you.”

“How?”

“I met your mother when she was returning home while I was promenading with Maude and Irene. She was distraught. She didn’t tell us all the details, but she told us you were leaving London for a while because something sudden had occurred. We found it strange. But since you’re here with a carpetbag …” Rebecca gave her a slow once-over. “Well, I guess that what your mother meant to say is that you disgraced your family and your parents threw you out. And servants talk.” She started to shut the door. “Leave.”

Elizabeth blocked the door with a hand. “Was it you? Did you spread lies about me?”

“How dare you! You’re ready to blame anyone for something you did. You’re the only one at fault here.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Rebecca’s gaze was hard and cold. “I don’t know what you did, but it must be something horrible. Otherwise, your mother wouldn’t be so distraught. I have nothing to do with what happened to you, and I don’t want to get involved. In fact, I don’t even want to know what you did.”

“Rebecca—”

“You must leave. I don’t want anyone to see you here.”

“Yes, because gossip can be brutal. You know something about that. You told Pearce you saw me with a man at the ball the other night.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t even there!”

True. That made Elizabeth pause. Not even Maude and Irene had been there. Taken by frustration, she’d rushed to come here when, in fact, she didn’t have any evidence of Rebecca’s guilt. If the witness wasn’t Rebecca, then who?

“Leave.” Rebecca shut the door.

Confusion quickened Elizabeth’s pulse, but the shock froze her. She stood there, staring at the closed, shiny black door and feeling like a feather dragged this way and that, as the wind pleased. She was about to leave when the door opened once again.

She turned around, but it wasn’t Rebecca.

“My lady,” the maid whispered. “I’m sorry for what happened. Do you have a place to go?”

“No.”

The maid glanced behind her. “Nottingham Street, Whitechapel. There’s a cheap, safe boarding house. The landlady is a friend of mine. Tell her Nell sent you. She’ll find you a place to work as well if you ask her.”

“I only need a room for a night. Tomorrow, I’ll come back home.”

The woman’s eyebrows lowered. “My lady, go to Nottingham Street. That’s all I can do for you. But be careful in Whitechapel at night. Some say the Ripper is still out there, and the gang of the King is bloodthirsty and ruthless. The streets aren’t safe at night. I must go now.” She shut the door.

Elizabeth stood on the pavement for a long moment.

She didn’t need to find a job, did she? Her parents would take her back soon. The misunderstanding with Pearce would be cleared, and she’d sleep in her bedroom tomorrow night and then she’d plan what to do next.

Yes, that was what would happen.