Of course she could be deluding herself, because she knew that whatever else might be a lie, her feelings for him were not. She was hopelessly in love with him. Perhaps it blinded her to his faults, but everything else in her body cried out that he was being unjustly treated.
“I'm sorry, Elizabeth,” said Liam, taking her hand in his and kissing it. “For one solitary moment I had a dream of a quiet life with a woman I truly loved, but I would have been pretending for all of it. This is why I wanted to be honest with you. You are a beacon of hope and truth in a dark world, and I was drawn to your purity. But I won’t involve you in my darkness. Forget all I said. Pretend it was all a wonderful dream that you and I once shared. If it helps you to believe I am a murderer, then so be it, because I would rather you hated me than go to my death knowing that I caused you a moment’s pain.”
His words were like a knife to her heart. How could she feel anything but pain when she thought of him, dangling from the end of a hangman’s noose, his handsome face contorted in pain?
“I’m sorry, Doctor Bradbourne, but we must go...” said Constable Hounds. They started towards the door and went out into the hall.
Elizabeth thought she might collapse with grief, only to feel her father’s steadying arm on her shoulder. “Father...” she whispered, through her tears. She put her head on the Reverend’s shoulder. She was aware of all eyes on her, judging her.
“Shh, my child.”
“Father,” she said quietly, “I am sorry if I have brought shame on you, but I love him.”
“I could never be ashamed of you, Lizzie.”
“Everyone else will think...” But what did it matter? Liam was being taken away, where no doubt he would be executed. The thought was like a thousand knives, stabbing her.
“Let them think what they will,” said Reverend Dearheart. “Love does not always send us the people that society thinks are right for us, but let society worry about its own affairs. We will do what we can for Liam, to make his last days as peaceful as possible.”
“Oh no...” At that, Elizabeth lost all control and sobbed into her father’s shoulder.
As the constable and his men left with Liam, slamming the front door behind them, Elizabeth instinctively looked up into the minstrel's gallery. The man who had been sitting there had disappeared.
Chapter Eight
The assembled townspeople burst into a rhapsody of gossip as soon as the constable and his men took Liam away.
Lady Clarissa, ignoring some stern words from her step-mother, crossed the room to Elizabeth and Amelia Wheston. “Be of good cheer,” she said. “Help is at hand.”
“What help could there be?” asked Amelia. Her husband still held her in his arms. “Liam is doomed.”
“I cannot say yet as it would put someone I ... someone who is important to me in danger. But we will help to free your brother, that I promise, Mrs. Wheston.” Although she addressed Amelia Wheston, Lady Clarissa’s eyes fell upon Elizabeth with a depth of understanding that made Elizabeth feel that they were kindred spirits. “I know what it is to love a condemned man. Please, rest tonight and be assured that you have friends.” With that Lady Clarissa climbed the staircase to the upper level and disappeared into the shadows.
“Come,” said the Reverend. “Whilst Lady Clarissa’s offer of help has strong foundations, we will repair to the vicarage and find out what we can do for those we love.”
“He will need a good lawyer,” said Amelia. She turned to Elizabeth. “You must believe that he is the kindest, gentlest of men. He is not a killer.”
“But he's the Demon Doctor of Delhi,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks, who had dashed across the room several minutes earlier to hear what the constable had to say.
“He is not a demon!” Amelia's eyes blazed. “Oh I hate journalists, and all the dreadful things they make up about people.” She burst into tears, and was once again comforted by her husband.
“My wife speaks the truth,” said Doctor Wheston. “I taught Liam in medical school. He is no monster. He has dedicated his career to saving lives, not taking them.”
The sisters had the grace to look chastened. “I am sure he seems like a very good man,” said Miss Graves. “In fact I was only saying to my dear sister yesterday that it was pleasant to have such a handsome young man in the district.”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. Elizabeth understood that Amelia's tears showed them a different side to the sensational stories they read in the papers. Here was real human suffering, from the family of a man unjustly condemned.
#
It was very early on Christmas Day morning when Elizabeth visited Liam at the gaol. She had barely slept. She, her father and the Whestons had talked late into the nigh t about what steps could be taken to help Liam.
All Elizabeth’s misgivings about his marital status had, for the moment, disappeared. All she cared about was saving his life. What happened afterwards was left to fate. Taking a plate of warm bacon and bread, and a mug of coffee to the gaol, she told herself that it was only Christian charity, when in her heart she knew that she could not leave him alone on Christmas morning, feeling that he had no friends. Not that Amelia and John Wheston didn’t show the same concern, but by the time they said goodnight, Amelia was clearly exhausted by her emotions. Elizabeth realised that she had only been dealing with the horror of Liam’s predicament for one night and that was bad enough. Amelia must have spent months in abject despair at the thought of her brother’s imminent execution, and then suffered even more stress when he escaped, not knowing if he had made it to safety until he arrived in Midchester. No wonder she had run out to embrace him on the night they returned from Lady Bedlington’s. Even though she had seen him when he arrived, she must have felt a sense of relief every time Liam returned safely to her house over the following days.
The gaol was a small hut-like building attached to the constable's cottage. Luckily for Elizabeth Constable Hounds and his wife were already awake. “I've brought Doctor Doubleday … I mean Doctor Bradbourne, some food,” she explained.
“Oh, there was no need, Miss Dearheart,” said the constable's wife, Kitty. “I've made bread for him, and coffee. But I'll not say he won't be glad of some bacon too. He's a nice young man.”
“He's a convicted murderer,” said Constable Hounds. But there was something in his voice. Some element of doubt. “Not that he seems like one. Very gentleman-like, he is. But it could be an act, so mind yourself, Miss Dearheart.”
“May I see him?” asked Elizabeth. “My father will be along after the morning service.”
“For a few minutes. They're coming to fetch him later on this morning, to take him to a bigger gaol. Where...” As if realising he touching on painful territory, the constable clamped his mouth shut.
He led her through the back room, to a small door which led into the gaol. It was of solid wood, with bars at the top. The constable unlocked the door, and murmured, “I'll be standing by in case of trouble.” He took position outside the door, leaving it slightly ajar.
“Elizabeth...” Liam's voice was full of despair when he saw her. “You shouldn't have come here, my love.” He had been sitting on the truckle bed, but stood up when he saw her. In this tiny room he looked even larger than ever. His deep set eyes were lined with dark circles.
“I had to see you,” she whispered. “I need to know the truth. Did you kill him?”
“No!” Liam sat back down and put his head in his hands. “I am not a killer, Elizabeth, I swear it.” Elizabeth put the food down on the floor and sat on a rickety chair next to the bed. “I have no need to take my patient’s money. Our family are rich in our own right. Only my wife had other ideas.”
“Tell me what happened, Liam.”
He looked up at her. “It took this for you to call me by my first name?”
Elizabeth blushed. “It is one way of breaking the ice, I suppose. Did you love her very much?” It was strange how the answer to that question was more importan
t to her than the tragic death of an innocent man. She was a humane enough girl to feel shame at her own selfishness.
“I thought I did at first. Clara brought out the protective instincts in me. She arrived in Delhi just over a year ago, a frail, helpless creature. She told me, and others, that she had fled her brother, who controlled her whole life, and was often abusive to her. Then one night she arrived at my house, with a bruise on her cheek. She said that her brother had found her and that he was trying to force her into marriage with an elderly man. So I offered to marry her, to save her from it. At least, I thought I had offered at the time. Now, when I look back on it, I can see that she led me to that conclusion. She had said something about 'of course, if were already married'. Don't you see how it was? She was a woman in trouble, and I felt I had to help her escape her cruel brother.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Elizabeth. She could almost see the scene as Liam described it. The stricken woman and the kind man whose very vocation led him to protect and nurture.
“It was not a marriage in the true sense of the word.” Liam seemed to hesitate. “What I mean is that I did not insist on the rights of a husband, and she seemed relieved that I left her in peace. I had not saved her from one awful marriage to inflict anything upon her that would make her happy.” He paused. “And I don’t say this to deceive you. There have been women in my life. Discreet affairs. I am no saint.”
“I understand,” said Elizabeth. For some reason it made her feel happy to know he had not made love to his wife, even though there was no moral reason why he should not, and probably a dozen moral reasons why he should not have had lovers before his marriage, if one followed the teachings of the Bible. But Elizabeth’s own sexual awakening, and the longing she felt for him, had taught her that what one should do, and what the body told one to do, were quite different things. Plus, it was implausible that a man of Liam’s age and latent sensuality could have spent his adult life as a celibate.
“Then a colleague approached me one day, another doctor. He warned me away from Clara. She had visited his wife, and told her that I had behaved in an abusive manner towards her. She apparently showed this good woman a bruise on her arm, which she said I inflicted upon her. You can only imagine what they thought of me. I swear, Elizabeth, I have never struck a woman in my life. I would never behave that way.”
“I believe you. Did you ask her about it? Clara, I mean.”
“Yes, I confronted her that evening at dinner. I tried to make it seem that the lady had misunderstood her, so as not to apportion blame. She left the room in tears, refusing to discuss it. That was the last time I saw her. The following morning she had gone, along with all her clothes, and at the same time my patient was found dead. Then the police in Delhi received an anonymous note saying that I had murdered the patient. He had died of an overdose of morphine. It was from an ampoule I had signed for at a local apothecary. They found a scrap of paper in my study that they say proved I had been practising how to forge his signature. Then the other doctor's wife came forward with what she knew, about my supposed brutality, which added to the hysteria surrounding it all. It was only then I found that Clara had been telling everyone that I mistreated her. The evidence, as far as the police were concerned, was overwhelming. I was not only a murderer, but a wife beater too. I was tried and convicted. But by that time the friend who had first come to me with his concerns had second thoughts about it all, despite his wife’s hysteria. So he helped me to escape. I came here, to look for my sister. To let her know I was safe.” He took a deep breath. “This has been dreadful for her, and for John. She has maintained my innocence all along. She knows me, and she knows I am not a killer.”
“How old was Clara?” asked Elizabeth.
“She was thirty-two when we met.” Liam frowned. “What has that got to do with anything?”
Elizabeth told him about the two Lucindas. Lucinda Hargreaves, who had disappeared after murdering her husband, and the Lucinda who had married Albert Sanderson. “I am just trying to ascertain whether there was one Lucinda or two. And also whether your wife Clara is the same person as Prudence Rivers. I think it's a plot, you see.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to order her own thoughts before explaining her suspicions to Liam. “The first Lucinda Hargreaves was the mother of two children who fled Midchester. She murdered her husband. When it was too late, she might have realized there were other ways. What if either she, or a different Lucinda – her daughter perhaps – decided that rather than bring suspicion upon herself, she would frame someone else for it? Then once the husband had been executed, all she had to do was return and claim his fortune. So she would benefit twice from the crime. Once from embezzling the money off the first victim, and then from the executed husband. She probably hoped the same would happen to Albert Sanderson, but he was mentally ill, so could not be sent for trial. Are you … are you very rich, Liam?”
“Our family owns many properties in Ireland. Not to mention what I've earned as a doctor. It has left both Amelia and myself with a more than generous annuity. The problem with an annuity, Elizabeth, is that it would rely on the bank and solicitors knowing where the person who inherited lives. I can't see that your Lucinda or Prudence or Clara would risk that. It would be something to tie her to each executed husband.”
“Unless,” said Elizabeth, thinking hard. “Unless she was able to persuade the family who should have inherited that she would go away and forget about it. In return for a lump sum.”
“That's what happened in the Rivers case,” said Constable Hounds, causing both Elizabeth and Liam to jump. They had forgotten he was there. “A friend from their village told me about it. The young lady agreed to a cash sum of two hundred pounds to go away and make no further claims on the estate. I gather the Rivers family had to sell some stock in order to make up the amount, but it meant the annuity went to Bertram Rivers' nephew, which was the original intention.”
“Constable Hounds, please help us,” said Elizabeth, standing up. “You know this is an injustice, don't you? Couldn't you let Doctor Bradbourne go for now, so we can look into this together?”
“I can see there's questions that need to be asked, Miss Dearheart, yes. But I can't let this young man go. Not until they're answered. He's still an escaped convict.”
“But surely if there has been an injustice, then he should never have been in prison.”
“The law is the law, Miss Dearheart, you know that.”
“Then I will find out the truth,” said Elizabeth. She turned to Liam. “I never thought of it before, but I'll go and look in the parish records. They may mention Lucinda Hargreaves and her two children.”
Liam stood up and took her hands in his. “You're wonderful,” he said, and completely oblivious to the constable's presence and his own marital status, he took Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her. For the first time she knew what a kiss should be, as she gave herself up entirely to the love she felt for him. He pulled away reluctantly. “Whatever happens, I will never forget what you're trying to do for me, Elizabeth. I'll take the memory of it to my grave.”
“Shh,” said Elizabeth, putting her fingers to his lips. Her eyes filled with tears, and for one horrible moment she saw the shadow of the hangman's noose over Liam's head. Any moral qualms she’d had the night before had disappeared. Yes, he was married, but to a woman who would have happily seen him executed. Surely God would forgive her the sin of loving him. “Please don't think like that. We … I will … clear your name, Liam. I promise.”
Elizabeth left Liam in Constable and Mrs. Hounds capable hands. “It does the heart good to see two young people in love,” said Kitty Hounds, wiping her eyes on her apron. “You take care, Miss Dearheart. Don't you go getting into any danger.”
With a promise that she would keep safe, Elizabeth made her way to the church. She could hear the choir singing carols as she grew nearer, and she was reminded once again that it was Christmas morning. Samuel would be waking soon, eager for his pr
esents, and for the first time since he had been born, she was not there to see the new day in with him. It made her think about what would happen if she went away. Seeing her brother's face on Christmas morning had been amongst the joys of her life.
Pushing the thought aside for the moment, she went around the back of the church and in through the vestry door. The singing was louder in there, and through a crack in the door leading to the altar, she could see several villagers already seated in the pews praying, including Mrs. Chatterbucks and Miss Graves. They had their eyes closed in reverent prayer, though Elizabeth could not help noticing with a smile that every now and then one of them opened their eyes as if to check everyone else was being just as reverent.
She slipped past them, praying not to be seen. Her father also had his head bowed in prayer, but she had no doubt he would sense her presence. He looked up slightly with a questioning look in his eyes. She put her fingers to her lips, and went to the vestry.
Elizabeth opened the various cupboards in the vestry and searched through the records of births, deaths and marriages. She tried to remember whether it had been said Lucinda Hargreaves children were born in Midchester, or whether she had arrived with them. If she had arrived with them, then there would be no record of their birth. So she contented herself with finding the marriage record, in the hopes that might throw some light on the subject. She found the record, but all it told her was that Lucinda Yates had married Franklin Hargreaves thirty-three years previously. Elizabeth checked the record of deaths, and sure enough Franklin Hargreaves was listed as deceased, some three years after the marriage.
Next Elizabeth took out the record of baptisms at the church. She had little hope of finding anything, and decided to work back from the date of Lucinda and Franklin's marriage, for no other reason than that it was the one date of which she could be certain. She did not have to look for long. For on the same day that Lucinda and Franklin married, it was recorded that two children, a boy aged three and a girl aged two, were baptised. She had no time to wonder at the events that led to the parents marrying some time after the children were born. She had known of people in the village who had not bothered to marry, but it was felt amongst the townspeople that they were not quite nice to know. However, her father always treated them kindly, in the hopes that one day they would feel encouraged to marry under God’s holy laws. Elizabeth ran her hands over the Christian names of the two children, and realised then that she had the whole story at her fingertips.
The Ghost of Christmas Past Page 8