by Mia Easton
"Oh?"
"You and I have had a meeting of minds," he said lovingly. "And hearts."
She smiled and nodded.
"But that doesn't excuse not asking."
He went down on one knee, and her breath caught.
"Elizabeth," he said, reaching out his hands, which she clasped. "My love. You crossed time for me. Will you be my wife?"
She nodded and began to cry. "Yes."
He rose, smiling.
"There's nothing in the whole world I want more," she said.
"Nor I." He kissed her and handed over a gold band.
It was engraved on the inside, and she bent her head to read the inscription. A love stronger than time. She looked up at him, moved more deeply than she knew how to express. "I love it," she breathed.
"It's a poesy ring," he said as he took it and slipped it on her finger. "A keeper band will go above and below it. Encrusted with diamonds."
"Oh, Wes. It's so beautiful. It fits perfectly."
"I had the dressmaker measure your finger for it some time ago," he said mischievously.
She gasped, recalling it.
"I've known I would ask you to be my wife from the day we came here."
If only she'd known it. She'd suffered for want of his love. But it didn't matter now. They had each other. As she fell back into his arms and they kissed again, it occurred to her how perfect it all felt. A love stronger than time.
Chapter 26
George went to see that Hale had cleared out before going in search of Elizabeth. He heard laughter from the morning room and looked inside to see ten or twelve people standing around, including Hale and Elizabeth. It was disappointing to see Hale was still here, but it was alarming to see the two of them together and looking like a loving couple. He thought he'd poisoned that field, and here it was blooming in heart-shaped roses and daffodils.
"Mr. Lloyd," Maggie Nordstrom said when she saw him. "We're having champagne. Will you join us?"
"I never pass up champagne," he replied with all the charisma he could muster as he came into the room. "Is there an occasion?"
"Oh, yes," John Paul said, lifting a glass to Hale. "Yes, there is."
"Elizabeth and I are to be married," Wes said.
It felt like a fist had just been driven into George Lloyd's mid-section. He struggled to keep a pleasant look on his face. "Really?" He had to swallow. "Congratulations."
"We'd talked about it before," the major continued, looking at Elizabeth with affection. "Decided, really, but now we've made up our minds to do it here." He looked back at George. "Tomorrow."
A glass of champagne was pressed into George's hand. He wanted it like he wanted a sliver of sharp wood shoved up a fingernail. What he wouldn't have given to have flung it straight into Hale's face. Instead, he raised his glass in their general direction and then took a gulp.
"Oh, Lloyd," Wes said, as if he'd just remembered something. "I believe one of the maids was looking for you. Eunice? Needed to confer more on something?"
Lloyd's collar was suddenly too tight. "I believe you are mistaken, sir. I don't know any of the maids." He scoffed. "How would I?" He pointedly turned to Maggie. "Unfortunately, I must be going. That's what I came to tell you. Thank you for a lovely party."
She smiled sweetly. "Safe traveling, Mr. Lloyd."
He turned and left, setting his glass down on the table as he went. He was sure Major Hale was smirking behind his back. Damn it, how had he lost the foothold he'd gained? Eunice. It had to have been Eunice. Somehow, she'd messed everything up in reprisal for the fun he'd had at her expense. But that would have ruined whatever scheme she'd cooked up, as well. She hadn't passed on the information she had for no reason. Ah! Unless the whole reason was causing Hale a bit of grief. Maybe in reprisal for his rejection of her? Was that it?
It all fit. Well. He would show her. No one played him for a fool and walked away unscathed. He changed courses and went in search of the housekeeper. It took a quarter of an hour to find her and to put a bug in her ear, but he considered it time well spent.
Eunice followed Rachel Tidwell, having been summoned. So far, the housekeeper had not uttered a word of explanation, nor did she seem particularly agitated, but then she rarely did. Her main worry was that Tidwell had somehow found out about the forty-five minutes she was missing from last night's ball. Had another maid tattled on her? Most of them scorned and hated her since May's mishap. They blamed her for it, despite her denial of involvement and May's account that she'd accidentally tripped. Eunice's mind raced for the best explanation, in case she had been found out.
She'd felt sick. That's what she would say. It was always best to keep it simple. She shouldn't be in trouble because she'd been sick. She hadn't been able to help it. Besides, she had returned to the ball to finish working, even though she'd felt sick. With no complaining, mind you.
The housekeeper stopped when she reached the upstairs drawing room and motioned Eunice inside. Eunice went to the center of the room and then turned back to her, hands folded in front of her and a blank expression on her face.
Rachel stepped in and started to shut the door and then changed her mind, leaving it halfway open. "I don't suppose we really need privacy for this."
Eunice donned her most convincing look of innocence. "For what?"
"I understand you wish to leave this household and join Mr. Lloyd's staff."
Eunice recoiled at the horrible thought. "That is not true."
Rachel looked confused.
Eunice shook her head emphatically. "He is loathsome," Eunice declared. "He attacked me last night."
Rachel drew back, shocked by the accusation. "He attacked you?"
"It's true. He grabbed me into a water closet and forced himself on me."
Rachel's jaw went lax.
"I knew he'd get away with it, which is why I didn't come to you last night. I should have, though. I should have screamed my head off and let them all come running." Tears filled her eyes, and they weren't crocodile tears. She'd had the most dreadful night of her life last night and today had been even worse, since everyone was talking about Wesley Hale and Elizabeth's Gordon engagement.
Her dreams had gone up in smoke, and after all she'd suffered. Then, on top of that, to have her place in the house threatened? It wasn't bearable. "I wish I had," she uttered. "He would have still gotten away with it. Rich, powerful men always do, but someone would have seen. They would have known what a monster he really is."
"He grabbed you and pulled you into the water closet," Rachel repeated slowly as if the facts had just registered.
Eunice nodded and wiped at her eyes and nose. "He took me by the throat with both hands and squeezed," she said thickly. "He said he would kill me if I made a sound. Then he turned me around, lifted my skirt and raped me."
Rachel's gaze went to her neck. "He choked you?"
"Yes! I thought he would kill me then and there. Oh, mistress, he is a vile snake. I'd rather be put out on the street than work for him. Who told you I wanted to leave here?"
Rachel looked conflicted. She looked away as if pondering whether to say who had told her. "Uhh," she said as she reached for the doorknob behind her. She pulled the door all the way open and George Lloyd stood there. Beneath a calm exterior, he was seething. Eunice could tell. Her stomach knotted so tightly, she feared being sick.
"That was quite an inventive story, Eunice," he said.
Eunice looked at Rachel with pleading in her eyes. All that mattered was not being forced to leave. "I do not want to leave," she uttered in a breathy voice.
"You no longer have a choice in that," Tidwell replied. "As to what you do next, that is your decision. I believe there is a place for you in Mr. Lloyd's home," she said questioningly, looking back at him.
"Oh, yes," he replied without taking his eyes off Eunice. "I have the very place for her." He looked at Rachel. "I must tell you, Mrs. Tidwell, there will be more discipline there."
Rachel shrugg
ed. "She needs a firm hand. Rules, guidelines and consequences."
"Without consequences," he said, "lessons are not learned."
She nodded. "That is true."
Eunice wanted to scream. They were talking about her as if she wasn't there. Talking about torturing her. They were both ghastly people.
Rachel looked back at her. "Of course, if you'd rather be…turned out onto the street. Is that how you put it?"
Eunice's throat closed. She had little savings and nowhere to go.
"Are you providing her a reference?" George Lloyd asked the housekeeper conversationally.
"I'm afraid not. Not in good conscience. I couldn't."
"Conscience?" Eunice spat.
Rachel looked at her coldly. "Go pack your things."
"Mrs. Tidwell," she pleaded. "Please!"
Tidwell shook her head slowly and waved in finger back and forth. "I am finished with you. Go."
"Oh, and if you're leaving with me," George Lloyd said to her, "Stop by my room first. I have a point to drive home. It needs to be established before we leave. That way, you can ruminate on it all the way home."
He was enjoying himself. At her expense. She felt herself trembling with rage and humiliation as she started for the door. Both Tidwell and George Lloyd politely moved out of her way, keeping pleasant expressions on their smug faces. How she hated them!
"You know, you fascinate me, Mrs. Tidwell," George said when Eunice had gone.
"Rachel."
"Rachel. I would be very interested in knowing what sort of discipline you use on your girls," he said, finishing the sentence quietly.
"Would you?"
"Yes. Very."
"I could say the same. You said there would be more discipline in your household, but you don't know anything about my methods."
"I'd be happy to share. Tit for tat. I have seen that you run a good operation here. Eunice being the exception, but you can hardly be blamed for that."
"She is a unique case. Generally speaking, when an infraction occurs, I use corporal punishment and I do it well enough that there is not usually a reoccurrence."
"I use corporal punishment, as well. In fact, I had a special strap made for the occasion."
"Is it a frequent occasion?"
He considered. "Frequent," he murmured. "Yes. I would say it's frequent. Sometimes daily."
"I'd love to see it."
"The strap? Or the strapping." He grinned.
She chuckled. "Both."
"I'll show you the strap right now," he offered, gesturing for her to go on. She did, and he fell in step beside her. "Perhaps you'd even enjoy a little taste."
"How do you mean?" she asked coolly.
"I could mean it any way you would like for me to mean it," he hedged playfully.
"I might enjoy a taste of what you offer if you care to sample what I offer."
He reached his room and glanced both ways to be sure the coast was clear before opening the door and gesturing her in. As she went inside, he followed, saying, "I have a feeling we could share some marvelous stories."
"I don't think mine will disappoint," she returned.
He was thoroughly titillated by the handsome woman. Unless he missed his guess, she was a like soul in a female body, something he had rarely encountered. "Nor mine."
Rachel reached the center of the room and then turned back to face him. "I'm curious. What is the point you want to drive home with her?"
"I could tell you. Better yet, show you. It depends on how juicy your stories are."
Rachel Tidwell smiled in anticipation. "Challenge accepted."
Epilogue
November 3, 1784
Elizabeth, Inez and Arthur sat in the kitchen of Pinegrove as soup simmered on the stove and cornbread baked in the oven, filling the air with a sweet, savory aroma. Arthur sat at the table whittling a toy horse, and Elizabeth and Inez sat in rockers in front of the fire, knitting. Elizabeth worked on a blanket, trying diligently to keep her stitches even. Inez, who was a whiz at knitting, was completing a pale green, hooded baby sweater, her needles moving smoothly and rapidly.
Elizabeth was four months pregnant and only beginning to show, but Arthur and Inez worked daily to create something for the baby. They'd become like parents to her, and she had become a daughter to them.
"Should we check it?" Elizabeth asked Inez.
The older woman didn't stop working. "You can check. Smells ready."
Elizabeth got up and went for a towel to remove the pan of cornbread if it was ready. She'd made it herself, under the supervision of Inez and with a constant stream of suggestions from Arthur. Sure enough, the top of the cake was browning and it smelled heavenly. She pulled it out and set it on the butcher-block table top, feeling victorious. They'd recently hired a girl from the village to clean and cook four days a week, but Elizabeth wanted to learn, too. She was also learning about the antiques and collectables that her father-in-law had amassed and the cattle they raised.
"I should taste that for you," Arthur said. "Make sure it's good."
"That is so sweet," Elizabeth returned. "You'd do that for me?"
Inez chuckled.
Elizabeth carefully cut and plated four steaming pieces of cornbread. She turned each on its side and smeared butter on it, then gave a plate each to Inez and Arthur.
"It smells and looks as good as mine ever did," Inez remarked.
"Maybe better," Arthur kidded.
"Since it's the one in front of you?" Inez kidded right back.
He grinned. "Your man's no fool."
Elizabeth tasted it, and it was as delicious as she'd hoped. Smiling to herself, she carried a piece to Wes in his study. His door stood open and he was leaned back in his chair with a pleased look on his face as he read a letter. He looked up at her as she walked in. "Maggie had the babies."
"You got a letter!"
"It just came."
"What did she have?"
"Boys. Two beautiful, healthy boys."
Liz glowed with the news. "What are their names? I wonder who they look like."
"Their names are Ellery and Brandon, named after John Paul and Maggie's fathers."
"And she's all right?"
"According to John Paul, there has never been anyone quite so perfect."
"I can't wait to see them all and hold the babies," she said wistfully. "I wish we were there right now."
He opened his arms to her and she moved in and sat on his lap, setting the plate on the desk. "We'll go soon. Before you get too big and uncomfortable," he said, laying a loving hand on her barely protruding belly. "I'm going to have the seats redone in the carriage, first. I want them well-padded for you."
She smiled.
He held up the letter. "It's to you, too."
She took it from his hand. She was looking forward to reading it.
"What are you thinking about names?" he asked.
"I think the baby should have one," she teased.
"Well, the last name is decided," he teased back. "So, there's that."
"If it's a boy, do you want to name him after your father?"
He shook his head. "I think you know my father's name was Newton. I loved him, don't love the name."
She was relieved to hear it.
"I like Luke," he said thoughtfully.
She thought about it and nodded. "So do I."
"What about for a girl?"
"I like Claire," she said. "And your mother's name was Clara."
"I always liked Mary," he said. "I had a grandmother named Mary."
"Mary Clair?" she mused.
He mulled it over. "I like it."
"On a completely different subject, since we have months to decide a name, I made cornbread and it's good."
"Hmm." He reached and got a piece. He tasted it and nodded. "That is good," he said with his mouth full.
She took a pinch and tasted it again.
"Whatever you're cooking smells delicious."
She
kissed his cheek and got up. "It's beef barley soup," she said before starting for the door. "But Inez made it." At the door, she turned back. Her eyes shone with tears and there was such feeling on her face.
"What is it?" he asked gently. Her emotions all lurked close to the surface, thanks to her pregnancy.
"It's been just over a year, you know," she said quietly.
His smile faded and he got up and went to her. He put his hands on her arms and deliberated on what he wanted to say. "Every single day, I thank God for it."
"So do I." And then she kissed him. She could do that now. She was the major's lady.
The End
Mia Easton
Mia Easton is the pen name of an award-winning author of historical romance and mainstream fiction living in North Carolina. Her passion for writing is second only to her passion for her family. ‘Reading is escapism, and I want to provide an intoxicating path of escape to readers. The best compliment is when a reader tells me they couldn’t put the book down. That always makes my day.’
Visit her website here: www.MiaEaston.com
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