“I arrived here about an hour ago, asking for Grace’s help,” Eliza continued to explain.
Still Richard did not move. “And you did not think to come and seek me out?”
“No. I was scared,” Grace blurted.
“Scared?” Richard shook his head and frowned. “Scared of what? For I sincerely hope you are not scared of me still, Grace?”
“No,” her voice squeaked. She bit her lip looked at Eliza and then back at him. “Just scared of what you might say or do.”
He shook his head. “What are you burning?”
“My dress,” Eliza stated barely louder than a whisper.
“I don’t understand.” Richard frowned. “I think the pair of you should come downstairs to the drawing room where you can explain calmly and completely.” Richard turned around and marched out of the room.
Grace looked at Eliza helplessly. “We’d better do as he says.”
* * * *
Richard marched into the drawing room, caring not if he made a noise and woke the entire house, then caught himself. There is no need to alert the whole estate to what’s going on. Calm down!
He strode over to the fireplace and added more wood, poking it to revive it. He did not have to wait long before, timidly, Grace and Eliza entered the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
“Sit down the pair of you,” he ordered. “I need a drink. Do you want one too?” He caught the look that passed between the girls and muttered, “Of course you do.”
Slowly and purposefully, Richard moved towards the walnut table that contained various decanters of alcoholic beverage. Knowing that his mother was partial to a glass of sherry when she was feeling out of sorts, Richard poured a glass of sherry each. Carefully, in both his hands, he managed to carry all three glasses back to the settee and place them gently onto the low table before the fire.
He watched as Grace and Eliza each reached out and chose one of the delicate crystal glasses. He took the remaining one back to the fireplace and stood staring into the flames for a moment or two. As he sipped at the sweet liquid, his mind could not fathom or comprehend why Eliza suddenly appeared and why Grace hid her away in the guest room without alerting his mother, or himself, to her presence. Neither could he comprehend why they were burning the dress. It was illogical to him.
“So,” he said as he turned around and confronted them, “which one of you is going to begin to tell me what in the blazes is going on?” He sat down in the armchair nearest the fire with his eyes firmly on the glass in his hands.
“It’s all my fault, Mr Emberton,” Eliza repeated her words from before.
“So you said.” He looked up at her, trying his best to soften his steely gaze. “But what exactly is your fault?”
“You see, I arrived here unannounced. Grace,” she reached out and took Grace by the hand, “did not know I was coming. So, please, Mr Emberton, do not punish her for my misdoings.”
“Punish her? I would never do such a thing,” he looked meaningfully at Grace. He was pleased to see she smiled weakly back at him.
“I did not know what else to do. Grace is my only friend. I knew she would help me if she could.” Eliza began to cry.
“Help?” Richard looked warily at Grace. “What she mean, help?”
Grace pressed her lips together and shook her head unwilling to furnish him with an answer, her eyes begging patience.
Richard looked back at Eliza, who continued to cry. He had not noticed before in the dim candlelight of the guest bedroom, but the young woman’s face was covered in bruises, and her bottom lip was split. In fact, on closer scrutiny, her left eye was so swollen he would be surprised if she could see properly from it. Something grave was happening and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.
“I understand you are upset, Mrs Phillips, but I need to know what is going on here.”
Almost as soon as Richard finished speaking, Eliza blurted out, “I killed my husband.”
Richard stared immobile at Eliza. For a brief moment he believed his hearing was damaged and he misheard what the young lady said. However, she continued to repeat that she had killed her husband.
“Calm down, Mrs Phillips.” Richard waved his hands at her in an effort to quieten her. “What do you mean you killed your husband?”
“I killed him!” she cried hysterically.
“Again, Mrs Phillips, what do you mean by you killed your husband?” Richard was at the point where he wanted to leap across the room and shake the woman by her shoulders. He needed answers and he needed them now. It was obvious this woman had been on the receiving end of some vicious behaviour, and it was up to him to find out the truth. She was under his roof; therefore, she was his problem.
“He hit me. He kept on hitting me. I did not think he was going to stop!” she wept. “He hit me again and again with his walking cane until everything went black.”
Richard dared not breathe. He wanted her to continue explaining. He wanted to hear it all.
“When I eventually woke up, it was dark and the room was cold. I was bleeding from my head,” she reached up and touched a place in her hair and he now noticed that it was matted. “I was stuck to the floor. It really hurt me to get up, but slowly I managed it. He was in his study, drinking as usual. He heard me leave the drawing room and started shouting for me to come to him…”
She wiped the tears away with her fingers. “I did not want to go into his study, but I knew I would fare far worse if I did not. When I got in there, he unleashed such a tirade of abuse upon me and lifted his cane to strike me again that I…” She hesitated.
“Go on,” Richard whispered.
“I saw the paper knife upon the desk. Without thinking, I reached out and, as he made to strike me, I turned upon him and thrust the paper knife into his side. I’m not a dreadfully strong person, Mr Emberton,” she looked at him directly. “I did not think I even pushed the knife very deep, but he collapsed straightaway. I was so frightened that I fled. I went to the stables, saddled a horse, and rode as fast as I could here. I do not know how long I have been travelling, but they must be searching for me by now.”
“You must be hungry,” he said simply, and she nodded.
He turned to look at Grace, “Go down to the kitchens as calmly as you can and see if there is anything left over from dinner. Do not wake anyone. The servants will have gone to bed, so you should be the only one down there.”
Richard watched as Grace nodded, rose slowly, and did as he asked. “It may be, Mrs Phillips,” he frowned in thought, “that the wound was not fatal, that in your panic you are assuming that you killed him.”
Eliza stared up at him in surprise.
“Anything is possible,” he reassured her.
* * * *
Two hours later, Richard sat in the relative peace and quiet of the private salon with Grace next to him on the settee. Eliza had eaten, and they sent her to bed after hearing even more of the story.
“I do not think you understand the severity of the situation in which we now find ourselves, Grace.”
“We have to help her, Richard. If we do not do something, she will hang for his murder.” Grace’s eyes burned with anger. “He is the one who deserves to be punished for what he did to her!”
“Of that I have no doubt, if he is indeed dead, but that is not what I’m talking about.” He turned in his seat to face her. “Grace, you understand I am the major landowner in these parts?”
She nodded.
“Then you can see my predicament?”
“No, I do not.”
Richard sighed, took in a deep breath and tried to explain. “As the major landowner in these parts, it falls to me to be the magistrate.”
“Magistrate?” Her face was a picture of astonishment.
“Yes, and you know what that means?” This time he did not wait for her to answer. “It means that I have a moral and a legal responsibility to bring your friend to justice.”
“No!” Grace whimpered.
“You cannot!”
“I do not have a choice. I cannot afford to show partiality. We will have to send to Manchester and discover all that happened.” He looked sadly at her, knowing how painful it would be to lose her friend. “I will do all I can. I will enable Eliza to seek legal counsel, but other than that, I cannot help her. The law expects me to be impartial, as I said, and I must be.”
“Is there anything else that can be done for her? Surely there is something. Please, Richard, think of something!” He watched her growing ever more distraught. “What about your brother Edward? Can he not help her?”
Richard went as white as a sheet. “Oh, dear God, what have you done?”
“What? What is it?” Grace shook him by the arm.
“Edward.” Just the sound of his name filled him with apprehension. “Do you not realise? My brother Edward is a politician, a rising politician. He has great ambitions. It may even be possible for him to rise to the position of prime minister one day.”
Grace shook her head, “I do not understand.”
“Any mention or slight suggestion of a scandal will ruin his career forever. I will not have that, Grace. I will not have that at all.” He saw Grace was visibly shaking. “Grace, I do not wish to cause you any more hurt, but I must do what is right. I will write a letter to the authorities in Manchester first thing in the morning and, depending on what they say by return of post, we will have to hand Eliza over.”
“Please no!” Grace sobbed.
Richard’s heart ached with the strength of compassion he felt for his wife as he watched her cry so bitterly. He reached out and pulled her to him and held her tightly. “We must do what’s right, Grace.”
Chapter Eighteen
Richard was not present when they broke their fast the following morning. Grace knew he was busy attending to business. She had a heavy heart and could barely eat anything, which was good as she needed to save some to give to Eliza. She did not know how things would go from then on, but she knew she could pray.
She rose from the table, crossed the room, and entered her bedroom where she knelt down by the side of the bed and folded her hands in prayer. That morning she pleaded and begged with God to save her friend from being hanged as a murderess. She cried desperately that God would deign to intervene and find a way for Eliza to escape. When she rose from the bed a full thirty minutes later, her heart felt lighter, although she did not know if her prayers would be answered.
Quietly, she slipped out of her room, down the gallery landing, and out to the east wing. Eliza was hiding in the bedroom, behind the dressing screen, when Grace entered the room. “Quickly, come with me. I have saved you some breakfast, and the tea is still hot. Follow me!” she hissed and, carefully checking outside in the corridor again, ran on tiptoes all the way back to her room, trusting that Eliza followed.
Without incident, the two girls darted into the room and carefully closed the door. Eliza seemed famished that morning. Grace was not surprised. She waited in silence as her friend drank two cups of tea and ate three slices of toast before she was able to converse with her.
It was the hardest thing Grace had ever had to do before, but she had the unenviable duty of telling Eliza that by now a letter was on its way to Manchester informing the authorities of her whereabouts. Grace watched as panic took hold of her friend. She looked about her, ready to bolt.
When Richard entered, he looked at them both and simply said, “It is done.”
* * * *
Richard knew he should tell his mother what was happening under their roof. That was going to be hard enough. Informing Edward would be harder still. He had the greatest to lose from being embroiled in this tragedy. Richard knew he could not delay the inevitable and sent a message to his brother by means of a footman.
After speaking with Grace and Eliza, Richard went directly to the library and tried to work while he waited for Edward to arrive.
Edward was cheery when he came into the library, but one look at Richard’s face told him that the situation was serious.
Richard did not know which was worse, having to tell his brother of the tragedy or watching him sit impassively, motionless, and without blinking while he listened to the tale.
Richard divulged as much information as he possibly could. He explained the dilemma and told Edward the steps he had taken in order to remedy it as quickly as possible. He hoped that having sought a solution would ease the blow somewhat.
Finally he finished speaking and waited with bated breath for his brother to say something. What he had not bargained on was Edward rounding on him.
“What does she think she is playing at bringing such a scandal to our home?” He launched at Richard, his voice rising. “There has been nothing but one emotional scene after another since that woman first set foot in this home. Does she have no idea of the consequences of her actions?”
Edward had every right to shout at him, Richard knew. He gave no defence and put up no arguments against his brother’s words. He knew them to be justified.
“What a damn silly girl she is! My entire career, years and years of planning, careful manoeuvring, could be wiped away by one mindless girl and her damnable heedlessness!” Edward spat. He stomped about the room, and Richard watched quietly until he determined his brother’s temper was abating.
“In Grace’s defence, she did not invite this situation; it arrived of its own accord.”
Edward shot him as scathing glare, “Well, it can jolly well disappear of its own accord. If it did not go against all I believe, I would demand you throw the wench out onto the streets!”
“You know I cannot do that; I would not do that.” Richard replied quietly.
Edward folded his arms across his chest and breathed in heavily through his nose. “I know. Are all women this much trouble?”
Richard snorted. “I believe I asked you that very same question not long ago.”
Edward shot a scowl at Richard. “That woman must leave this house. You cannot harbour a murderess any longer, Richard.” He pursed his lips together, clearly frustrated.
“I promise you, she will be gone as soon as I hear back from Manchester.” Richard held his hands up in defence.
“Then you had best pray they get back to you before the end of today.” Edward stormed toward the door but stopped short. He took a deep breath and exhaled, looking at the ceiling. He turned back to Richard, the fury gone from his face. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. This is a bad situation all around.”
Richard licked his lips, blinked rapidly, and nodded, accepting the apology. After Edward departed, Richard went in search of the butler. If any letters arrived for him that day, he needed to have them immediately.
* * * *
Grace spent most of the day with Eliza weeping. Both of them knew that she would be hanged for murder. Richard explained that she was unlikely to receive a lenient sentence. She is a murderess, and in the eyes of the law, she must be punished.
When they could manage to speak, the two friends reminisced about their days at Longwood Academy, but most of the time they sat by the window in the salon and stared out at the grounds, each lost in her own thoughts.
The sun was beginning to set when Richard and Edward joined them. Edward gave Grace such a searing look that she had to fight the impulse to flee and, instead, remained by her friend. She lifted her chin. She had done no wrong. Eliza had come to her for help.
“I received a reply back from Manchester.” Richard said in a quiet voice, knowing their mother was not far away, and thus far they had kept this entire incident secret from her. They wished it to remain a secret.
Eliza gasped. “What does it say?”
Grace could not look at her husband, neither could she look at her friend. She turned back to stare out of the window, steeling herself against Richard’s next words.
“Well…” Richard started with a chuckle. Grace snapped her head round to stare at him incredulously. What could he find so amusing under such dire cir
cumstances! “This may seem incredible to you, Mrs Phillips, but do you remember saying to me that you did not think you drove the knife into your husband with much force?”
Eliza nodded, “Yes.”
“Well, you were correct. He is not dead,” Richard replied simply.
“What?” exclaimed both Grace and Eliza, jumping up and rushing towards Richard.
“Shh…” Richard held his finger to his lips. “Quiet or Mama will hear you.” He looked at both of them warningly.
Grace’s breathing was ragged as she waited for her husband to continue.
“Apparently, you did some damage to his back. But from what this Mr…” He opened the letter he held in his hand, and Grace watched impatiently as he quickly sought the name he was looking for. “Mr Frost, the magistrate in Manchester says, there was a witness.”
Grace could not believe her ears.
Richard looked directly at Eliza and smiled. “It seems someone up above is looking out for you, Mrs Phillips. Your lady’s maid, Joan, was watching. She saw everything. She has given a full statement to the police, and your husband is to be prosecuted for his actions.”
Eliza looked confused and Grace asked the question on both of their minds. “I thought it was permissible for a husband to beat his wife?”
“The law states very clearly that the husband may give moderate correction to his wife.” Richard looked kindly at Eliza. “What that means is he cannot beat you to within an inch of your life and get away with it. Some people say that a husband may use a stick no thicker than his thumb. I personally believe a husband should not use anything to beat his wife,” he added as he looked tenderly at his own.
“Now, what this means for you, Mrs Phillips,” Richard continued in a businesslike tone, “is that your husband was at fault and there is a case to say that you were defending yourself. As I said before, there is a witness. Your husband is to be punished, not you.”
The Spice Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 1) Page 15