Chasing Eliza

by King, Rebecca

  Edward barely had the time to pull Eliza out of the way before the horrified woman brushed past them and continued to run straight out of the house. Eliza glanced out of the window and watched her run across the gardens as though the hounds of hell were on her heels, crossing herself as she went.

  Dominic shouted for Manvers, giving him orders to catch the woman before she got to the village and ensure she was alright.

  “What is it? What did she see?” Eliza asked, as startled as everyone at the maid’s strange behaviour.

  Dominic studied the room carefully. The window remained locked and bolted to the outside world. The solitary table – the one item of furniture in the room – still contained one unmoving body. There was nobody else in the room and nothing untoward that could startle the maid to run for her very life in such a way.

  Surmising that she had clearly not been told there was a dead body in the house and was horrified at the sight that had met her, Dominic made a mental note to speak to Manvers once Eliza was out of the way before closing the door to the makeshift morgue.

  He made eye contact with Edward who immediately tried to steer Eliza back towards the main body of the house only to find that Eliza was having none of it. She had seen the studied look pass between the men and knew in her gut that it was the same room she had seen Jemima in. Staring at Dominic defiantly, she made to move past him to see for herself only to find his hands on her shoulders, stopping her progress towards the room at the end of the corridor.

  “She saw Jemima, didn’t she?” Eliza asked quietly, pulling away from him and brushing aside his hands.

  “Eliza, please don’t.” Edward moved past Dominic and caught hold of her elbow but nothing was going to stop Eliza from seeing for herself. She didn’t know what drove her to see her sister. Hours later she would wonder what had possessed her to be so determined, but at that moment wild horses couldn’t have stopped her.

  She paused in front of the door and slowly turned the knob, watching as the heavy wood swung inwards silently.

  Everything within her froze as she studied the empty body of her sister lying on the solitary table. Even from the corridor, Eliza could tell the room was absolutely freezing. Jemima had been covered over with a blanket, preventing Eliza from seeing her face. Although she wanted to see Jemima just one last time, she simply couldn’t bring herself to walk into the room. Her feet felt as though they were frozen to the floor.

  She was vaguely aware of Edward appearing at her side, breaking her line of vision briefly as he closed the door. She made no further protest as he gently guided her out of the corridor and into the main part of the house. Dutifully she accepted the glass of brandy he pressed into her hand and didn’t object when he picked her hand up in his large, warm ones and began to rub her chilled fingers.

  It was several moments before she could form any words and turned towards Edward, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “I should like to be alone for a while, if you don’t mind.” She gently eased her hands out of his.

  “I don’t think this is the time for you to be alone darling.” Edward protested, feeling ridiculously useless to help her in her grief.

  During their first few days together he had done everything possible to help her remain out of Scraggan’s clutches. He was used to wielding a sword or a gun, not sitting around patting hands and giving her a shoulder to cry on.

  “I’m alright. I will just never get used to seeing her dead.” Eliza murmured, knowing the statement was silly but couldn’t find the words to fully express how she felt.

  “I know. It is an ordeal you should be spared as much as possible.” Edward replied, understanding her confusion completely.

  Carefully he eased his arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently to his side, relieved when she didn’t protest but silently slumped against him, willing to absorb his strength for now.

  Eliza wondered how she would survive when he had gone. Yes, she wanted justice for her sister; she wanted her sister’s name cleared and Scraggan to swing from the gallows as much as Peter. She just didn’t want Edward to be the one who went after him. Not only because of the risks involved to him personally, but on a purely selfish level she wanted him by her side.

  Edward thought about the turmoil he had wrestled with in the bath back in Huntingdon and knew that it definitely was possible to fall in love with someone in just a few short days. He certainly didn’t believe in love and first sight, despite sitting in that dingy tavern feeling an inexplicable pull towards the woman now sitting at his side. Despite his protestations against the institute of marriage, he simply couldn’t consider any other outcome than the one he had with Eliza. She was by far the most precious thing to have happened to him in a very long time, if ever and he would draw his last breath before letter her go.

  If he did have to leave her, it would only be to bring her future security and happiness. He could only hope that she loved him enough to want to spend her days by his side, or at least care enough about him that she was willing to try. But he wanted her to make the decision on their future free of grief and fear.

  “Are you alright?” He asked, several long minutes later.

  Eliza nodded slowly, easing away from his warmth to sit upright.

  Reluctantly he let her go. What he really wanted was to carry her upstairs and spend the rest of the day holding her, protecting her from the cruel harshness that awaited them tomorrow.

  “You had better go and meet the man from the War Office.” She murmured, rising to stand and brush out her skirts absently. “I think I shall go and try to read a book or something. Would your brother mind if I borrowed one from the library?”

  “Of course not, help yourself. If you want tea or something, just ring the bell. The maids will be more than happy to wait on you.” Edward guided her out of the study and escorted her to the library door, drawing her to a halt in the doorway.

  In the distance he could hear Dominic’s raised voice as he shouted at their new guest and wondered what had happened now to raise his ire in such a way.

  “Hurry.” Eliza murmured, pushing Edward towards the fracas.

  “I’ll see you later.” Edward dropped a kiss on her startled lips before striding down the corridor.

  Eliza watched him go only turning to enter the library when he had disappeared from sight. The room was simply huge and lined with a vast array of shelving practically crammed with books of all shapes and sizes. They were everywhere, even stacked haphazardly on the floor, waiting to be put onto the already crammed shelving.

  “Sorry for the mess.” Eliza jumped as Isobel’s appeared at her elbow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Eliza stammered feeling uncomfortable intruding on the woman’s own quiet time.

  “You didn’t, I was just leaving. Feel free to help yourself.” She murmured, nodding towards the vast array of books on display. “We recently brought some books over from uncle Bertram’s house before it burnt down, and have yet to find a home for them. I hope Edward will have some when he moves into his own home. We have far too many for us to ever read. If there is anything you need, just ring the bell. The maids are just waiting to serve you.” With a friendly smile of understanding, Isobel patted Eliza’s arm companionably and left.

  Eliza took several moments to wander slowly around the large room. The books covered just about every topic known to man.

  Shaking her head at the magnitude of the task of simply choosing a book, she picked one off the haphazardly pile stacked haphazardly on the desk and moved to the window seat without bothering to look at the title. She didn’t want to read and had no interest in whatever subject the book covered, but needed a little private time to try to get some order to her jumbled thoughts and take stock of the past few hours.

  As she settled back against the soft mound of cushions, she glanced outside at the afternoon sunshine with a shiver. Although the sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky, Eliza was chilled to the bon
e. After the events of the past few days, she didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

  Her fingers traced the gold scrolling on the book’s spine for several moments as she stared absently out of the window, lost to everything but her solemn thoughts. She just had to get through the next few days. There was not only tomorrow to get through, and Jemima’s funeral, but there was now the following day when Edward left to contend with, and she had no idea which was worse.

  She was about to turn back to the book in her hands when something beneath the window outside caught her eye. It looked like a shiny gold coin. Eliza frowned at it for several moments before studying the garden. It didn’t seem the type of thing a gardener would drop, or even have in his possession and directly beneath the window seemed an unusual place for it to be.

  Rising to her feet, she moved to the French doors half way down the room and slid the bolts back, shivering a little as the cool air swept over her bare skin.

  Carefully picking her way through the shrubs to the place where she had seen the shiny coin, she studied it for several moments trying to make out the writing on the shiny surface. It appeared to be a foreign language. A foreign coin? She was half turned back towards the doors when a large hand clamped over her mouth and she was yanked roughly off her feet.

  Immediately she knew the man behind her wasn’t Edward. Apart from the man being smaller and heavier, he also smelled of sweat and indefinable things she would rather not analyze. Eliza’s eyes popped wide as she instinctively fought to free her face from the grimy hand that covered her lips and nose. She could see the edges of her vision turn black as she was denied the need to breathe, and knew that she had to take a breath soon or would be lying next to Jemima.

  Desperation clawed at her and instinctively she stomped down on the man’s booted foot at the same time she twisted right around until she was almost facing him. Using his distraction to her advantage, she took a huge breath and screamed as loudly as she could.

  The man before her swore fluidly and she knew immediately he was one of Scraggan’s men. She had lived in Padstow long enough to be familiar with the Cornish language, even the profanities. She wriggled and struggled against the man’s firm hold as he immediately rammed his shoulder into her hips and swept her off the ground before crashing through the bushes and making off across the gardens. Eliza screamed the entire way, thrashing this way and that.

  At that moment, she didn’t care if he dropped her on her head, as long as he put her down and didn’t carry her off to Scraggan. She continued to scream and protest as she was carried across the vast expanse of lawn. In the distance she was aware of startled shouts coming from somewhere near the house but was too busy screaming to be able to identify who it was. Vaguely she was aware of a number of men thundering past her, heading towards the house and prayed for Edward’s safety.

  Despite her frantic wriggling and squirming, her hands were tied behind her back and she was dropped unceremoniously over the back of the horse that was promptly led deeper into the woods, away from the house. From her upside down position she had no idea which direction she was being taken, or how far. Each time she did manage to raise her head, all she could see was the horse and rider carefully keeping pace alongside her. From her prone position, she couldn’t even raise her head enough to see who the man was, whether it was Scraggan, Rogan, both or neither.

  She could hear nothing other than the soft thud of the horses’ hooves against the forest floor, and the heavy breathing of the man alongside.

  Once or twice she almost slid off, only for the man beside her to grab her dress in one meaty fist and slide her backwards. She wasn’t certain if she was glad or not. Almost certainly the man was taking her to Scraggan or Rogan.

  Eventually they drew to a halt in a small clearing. She winced when the meaty fist grabbed the back of her dress again and she was wrenched upwards and off the horse. Her knees buckled beneath her at the abrupt change in her position and she struggled to remain upright as she was dragged forwards.

  “Welcome to our humble camp Eliza.”

  Eliza’s blood ran cold at the chilling voice that spoke in her ear. Horror swept through her and she turned slowly to stare into the cold, emotionless eyes of Rogan Scraggan. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep her face neutral. She simply stared back at him blankly.

  “Not going to say hello?” Rogan murmured, his bottom lip pouting theatrically. It was so out of place for their surroundings he looked ridiculous but was clearly enjoying having the upper hand and success at last.

  Eliza stood perfectly still and tried not to show any emotion as he walked slowly around her, belligerently eyeing her up and down as though she was a piece of horseflesh. Her gaze was blank and disinterested as she stared straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was disturbing her.

  “You probably feel you are too good for the likes of us now that you are in with the nabobs up at the big house.”

  Goosebumps rose on her arms as a grubby finger trailed slowly up her arm. She refused to flinch. The only flicker of movement about her was the slight ticking of a muscle in her cheek as she stared straight ahead.

  Thwarted by her lack of emotion, Rogan’s face appeared in her line of vision. All traces of humanity gone from his feral eyes as he stared at her, his face inches from hers. She wondered briefly if he was going to try to kiss her and clenched her fists in readiness. But after a few moments of staring at her, he snorted and moved away.

  “Come and sit.” He motioned towards the camp fire. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  Eliza stared at him for several moments before curiosity won through. She knew that several men were stationed around the small clearing. If she didn’t sit, she had no doubt that one of them would make her.

  Although they were close enough to take action if they were needed, they were kept at a respectful distance so they couldn’t overhear the conversation. Eliza knew Rogan planned it this way and clearly planned to interrogate her in an attempt to find out what she knew about their activities.

  “Don’t be frightened.” Rogan’s voice was smarmy and chilling. “I won’t hurt you.” The ‘yet’ remained unspoken but hovered menacingly in the air between them.

  Eliza slowly moved to the pro-offered seat and perched carefully on the wobbly stone.

  “I don’t want you exactly. I just need to ask you a few questions.” Rogan murmured, offering her a dirty can of murky liquid that she presumed was water.

  Eliza shook her head and watched as he took a sip and slammed the can on the floor with too much force to match his seemingly relaxed stance. She could feel the brutality shimmering in the air between them and knew enough about the man not to be fooled by his bonhomie. She had little doubt that he could and would suddenly change to an extremely violent adversary in the blink of an eye, with very little provocation.

  “I need to know what you wanted from Padstow.” He murmured, his voice low yet vaguely threatening.

  Eliza remained silent and simply watched him. Her eyes were steady as they met and held his penetrating stare defiantly.

  “You can either talk to me, or I will force you.” He spat when she made no move to answer him. “Talk to me Eliza, or you will regret your silence.”

  She could feel the tension shimmering from him and knew he was barely holding his temper in check. The handle of a wicked looking scabbard protruded from the hip of his dirty breeches like a venomous snake. Given his background Eliza had no doubt he knew how to use it to best advantage, but would he stoop so low as to use it on an unarmed woman? Undoubtedly. Eliza couldn’t restrain the shudder that swept through her as she considered the pain such a weapon could cause.

  “Why do you want to know?” Her swallowed against the soreness in her throat, her voice hoarse from all of the screaming she had done.

  “You and your sister couldn’t keep your noses out of things that weren’t any of your concern. Your sister paid for her curiosity. We g
ot some of the information back but Jemima made it clear that you had the rest.”

  Eliza froze inside as she thought of her sister. Had they really gotten to her and questioned her? If so, what had they done to her that she would tell them such a thing knowing she was putting Eliza’s life at risk? The thought of Jemima facing Rogan’s brutality before being forced to the gallows brought forward a burst of loathing so strong that it bolstered her courage, urging her to thwart him.

  “I don’t have any information.” Eliza declared flatly.

  Rogan launched from his seat and drew nose-to-nose with her. Defiantly she met his stare and glared right back, refusing to be drawn by the scabbard now pointing dangerously close to her face.

  “You can threaten me as much as you please but I have nothing to tell you. Jemima was the one who worked with my father and did most of his writing. I ran the house.” Eliza sighed deeply, partly to try to relieve some of the nerves that were wracking through her, and partly to try to convince the vile oaf before her that she wasn’t perturbed by his threatening actions. The last thing she needed was for Rogan to realise just how fearful of him she really was.

  “There were papers your father had. Copies of schedules, people and things that are none of your business. We want them back.”

  “Schedules of what? What people?” Eliza frowned at him, pretending to be confused by his demands. “What had Jemima copied?” She studied him as closely as he watched her.

  He was confused. Perturbed by her lack of emotion and apparent ignorance of the significance of the papers he was after.

  “Don’t play dumb.” He murmured after a few moments of silent contemplation, his thin lips curling in arrogant contempt. “You almost had me there.”

  Eliza decided to play along anyway and frowned as she watched back. “I have no idea what you mean.” She didn’t flinch when the blade of the scabbard touched her cheek, merely watched him back blankly, hoping she could brazen it out.