Chasing Eliza (27 page)

“
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.