by Jen Turano
Agatha arched a brow before her stride suddenly slowed.
“What is it?” Eliza asked, directing her gaze to where Agatha was staring in horror.
Light spilled from the Watson house.
“There they are,” a voice called from down the street.
Agatha took that moment to bow her head.
“What are you doing?” Eliza sputtered.
“Praying.”
“Pray quickly because . . . it looks like your father is coming our way.”
7
Hamilton leaned back against the seat, smiling when an image of Miss Sumner barreling out of the cell and directly into his arms came to mind. She’d been so soft and warm and . . . he blinked when Zayne’s face appeared at the window and the carriage rolled to a stop.
“I have your horse,” Zayne said.
“I forgot about my horse.”
“No doubt your thoughts were on the enchanting Miss Sumner.”
Hamilton certainly wasn’t going to admit the fact that his thoughts had indeed been with Eliza. He ignored the calculating look on Zayne’s face, climbed out of the carriage, and took his time paying the driver, wanting to prolong the conversation he knew his brother was dying to broach. He watched the carriage amble away and accepted the reins his brother threw him before he pulled himself up on his horse.
“So,” Zayne began, “about Miss Sumner?”
Hamilton ignored the question and urged his horse into a trot.
Unfortunately, Zayne soon caught up. “This unusual turn of events might put a damper on your plan of remaining single.”
Hamilton pulled his horse to a stop. “I’m hardly contemplating marriage at the moment, especially to Miss Sumner. I barely know the lady.”
“True, but she’s certainly managed to capture your attention.”
“Her life is a mess.”
“Mary Ellen was a mess, and yet you tried to sort her out.”
“Yes, and that turned out well for me,” Hamilton replied.
“It’s not your fault she was killed, Hamilton,” Zayne said softly. “You had no way of knowing she would try to run from you.”
“I should have known. She’d grown increasingly secretive right before she died.”
“And those secrets are what had her fleeing into the night in the midst of a horrible storm and getting thrown from her horse,” Zayne said. “Any fault resulting from Mary Ellen’s accident lies solely with her.”
“I still wonder whom she was running to that night and if—” Hamilton stopped speaking when loud shouting pierced the air. He turned his head in the direction of the noise. “Please tell me that’s not Miss Sumner and Miss Watson down there.”
Zayne released a groan. “I think they’ve been discovered.”
“Of course they have; their luck is horrendous,” Hamilton said. He turned his horse and looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t get involved in this, Hamilton. It might make matters worse for the ladies.”
The yelling suddenly escalated, drawing Hamilton’s attention. He peered down the street and settled his sights on four dark figures in the distance. There were three slight figures and one large one, obviously a man. He narrowed his eyes. From what he could see, it appeared as if the man was looming over one of the women, and Hamilton instinctively knew it was Eliza who was bearing the brunt of the tirade. He urged his horse forward and reached the group in less than a minute, jumping off his horse and striding in the direction of the man, who turned out to be Mr. Watson.
“ . . . fact that there was no note, no Agatha and . . .” Mr. Watson’s voice trailed off when Hamilton reached his side. The finger Mr. Watson had been shaking in Eliza’s face paused in mid-shake as the man opened and closed his mouth, then smiled a smile that was less than amused. “Mr. Beckett, fancy seeing you out and about this time of night.”
“Mr. Watson,” Hamilton said before he allowed his gaze to travel over to Eliza, who was apparently holding up well under what could only be considered trying circumstances. Not one tear could be found in the lady’s eyes, and his respect for her rose. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let Mr. Watson continue ranting at her. She wasn’t solely responsible for what had happened tonight. He turned to the gentleman, but was distracted when Mrs. Watson stepped forward and beamed at him.
“Mr. Beckett, it’s delightful to see you again so soon. I do hope you enjoyed the dinner last night.”
“It was lovely, Mrs. Watson,” Hamilton said.
“I’m just sorry you weren’t able to enjoy Agatha’s company,” Mrs. Watson continued. “She was feeling poorly, but as you can see, she seems to have recovered.”
Hamilton shot a glance to Agatha, who looked positively alarmed at being brought into the conversation. He watched her edge closer to Eliza.
“Well, we don’t want to keep you,” Mr. Watson said.
Hamilton decided there was no point in avoiding the reason he was currently standing in the freezing night air, making polite conversation. “I was wondering what all the shouting was about.”
“No need for your concern,” Mr. Watson said. “It’s a family matter, and I wouldn’t want to bother you with all the pesky little details.”
“You were yelling at Miss Sumner, and I’m concerned about her welfare.”
All appearances of affability disappeared from Mr. Watson in a split second. “Mr. Beckett, as I said before, this is none of your business, and I’ll thank you to stay out of it. Miss Sumner has behaved in an irresponsible manner this evening, and I’m perfectly within my rights to discipline her as I see fit.”
“I told you, Father,” Agatha said, speaking up, “it wasn’t Miss Sumner’s fault. I’m more to blame than she is, seeing as how it was my idea to join her in the first place.”
“She is the adult in this situation, so she receives full blame for the fact that you left the house without even the courtesy of a note,” Mr. Watson snapped. “Do you have any idea, young lady, how frantic your mother and I were when we returned home to find you missing? Not to mention the fact that Mr. Truman and his upstanding son, Stanford, were appalled to discover you’re the type of lady who would show such little consideration for your parents.”
Hamilton watched as Agatha began to sputter. He actually felt a small trace of sympathy for Mr. Watson, but it disappeared when he glanced to Eliza and found her nibbling on her lip, seemingly more upset than he’d first thought. Agatha’s sudden screeching had him wincing and returning his attention to the argument at hand.
“Honestly, Father, I have had enough,” Agatha railed. “For one, I’m nineteen, which makes me an adult, and for two, I’m tired of the constant parade of hopeful gentlemen you’ve put before me, each of them—well, except for you, Mr. Beckett,” she said with a nod to Hamilton, “only interested in me because of the huge price you’ve put on my head. I’ve tried to be patient, but I’m at the end of my rope. I have no intention of marrying anyone in the near future.”
Mr. Watson stared at his daughter for a full minute before he swiveled his head and glared at his wife. “This is your fault. You’ve been too lenient with the child.”
“Honestly, Roger,” Mrs. Watson whispered, “you’re embarrassing me quite dreadfully. What must Mr. Beckett think of us?” She sent Hamilton a smile. “I fear we’re a bit overwrought at the moment, Mr. Beckett. You simply must forgive us. Agatha is certainly not the hoyden she’s currently portraying. I can only believe her behavior is the result of spending time with Miss Sumner. When I hired her, I had no idea she would lead my children astray.”
Eliza began sputtering, much like Agatha had done only moments before. Hamilton watched as she drew a deep breath, and when she obviously believed herself to be somewhat under control, opened her mouth.
“When I set out this evening, Mrs. Watson, it was not my intention to lead your daughter ‘astray.’ Unfortunately, Miss Watson and I incurred a small bit of trouble, but truly, it was a big misunderstanding,
and as there was actually no harm done, I hope we can put this matter firmly behind us.”
“No harm done?” Mrs. Watson asked. “Of course there was harm done. Why, just look at the two of you. I’ve never seen Agatha’s hair and clothing in such a state, and I haven’t even started on your appearance.” Mrs. Watson’s eyes took on a dangerous glint. “Where, pray tell, have you left your girth?”
“Yes, good point, Cora,” Mr. Watson exclaimed as he took a step closer to Eliza and looked her up and down. “I would have to believe, given the circumstances of this evening and the fact that you have obviously taken steps to disguise your true appearance, that you must be a criminal of some sort and have entered into employment with my family under false pretenses.”
“I’m not a criminal,” Eliza said.
Mr. Watson ignored her statement. “I would bet that accent of yours is as misleading as your appearance. Tell me, what is your true purpose regarding my family?”
“I think this conversation is getting completely out of hand,” Hamilton interjected as he casually placed himself in front of Eliza. He’d detected a slight trembling of her lips and knew she was a hair away from dissolving into tears. For some reason, that bothered him more than he cared to admit. There was just something about her that tugged at him. Perhaps it was because he’d discovered she was carrying the weight of the world on her exceedingly slim shoulders. Or maybe it was because even though both Mr. and Mrs. Watson were screaming at her, she’d never once tried to throw the blame for their misadventure at Agatha, who, he was convinced, hadn’t given Eliza any choice about letting her tag along. “I’m certain the ladies are beyond exhausted, and I think it might be for the best if this conversation waited to take place until the morning.”
Mr. Watson drew himself up. “I won’t have that woman under my roof another minute. I have three daughters at home, Mr. Beckett, and as you have a daughter of your own, I’m certain you’ll understand my reasoning. Would you allow a woman of questionable character to mingle with your child?”
“Miss Sumner does not have a questionable character,” Hamilton said. “If you only knew who—”
“There’s no need to get into that,” Eliza said, speaking up and cutting off Hamilton’s statement. “Mr. Watson is perfectly within his rights to dismiss me, although I would appreciate being allowed time to pack my bags.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Agatha snapped. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Eliza.”
“Good evening,” Zayne said as he materialized out of the darkness and strode to Hamilton’s side. “I do hope I’m not interrupting.”
“About time you got here,” Hamilton muttered.
“I had to run down your horse,” Zayne said out of the side of his mouth. “I don’t think the animal appreciated all of the screaming and seemed to be intent on leaving without you.” He turned to Mrs. Watson and sent her a charming smile. “Now, what did I miss?”
“There is no need for you to trouble yourself with this nasty business, Mr. Beckett,” Mrs. Watson said with what appeared to be a forced smile. “My husband and I are more than capable of dealing with that woman, a woman who, I might add, took it upon herself to encourage my daughter to get into some type of mischief.”
“I understand the reasoning behind your anger,” Zayne said in a soothing tone. “Since I have no children of my own, I can’t say I’ve ever experienced quite what you’ve gone through this evening, but, seeing as the lovely Miss Watson has been safely returned to you, there was no harm done and all’s well that ends well.”
Mrs. Watson ignored Zayne’s remark as a crafty gleam entered her eyes. “Why were you and your brother riding down our street in such close proximity to our home at this unusual hour?”
Zayne shot a look to Hamilton as if to ask how he was supposed to answer. Hamilton shrugged, having no idea how Zayne should respond.
“You might as well tell them the truth,” Agatha said.
Mr. Watson narrowed his eyes. “Am I to understand the four of you were together this evening?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Hamilton replied. “We didn’t start out that way, but Zayne and I . . . encountered Miss Sumner and your daughter . . .”
“Yes?” Mrs. Watson prompted.
“They had to rescue us from jail,” Agatha blurted.
Silence descended. Hamilton was almost afraid to look at Mr. Watson, knowing without a doubt the gentleman was not going to react well to that piece of information. A mere second later, this was confirmed.
“You were in jail?” Mr. Watson thundered in Agatha’s direction.
“I was, but in my defense, it was all a complete misunderstanding. It could have happened to anyone,” Agatha said.
“Yes, but it didn’t happen to just ‘anyone,’ it happened to you,” Mr. Watson raged before spinning to Eliza. “Explain yourself.”
“Uhh . . .”
“Never mind,” Mr. Watson snapped. “You’re hardly likely to tell me the truth.” He stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “You may consider yourself dismissed, effective immediately.”
“Father, again, it wasn’t her fault,” Agatha said. “I insisted on joining her tonight, even though she tried to protest. Besides, you know Reverend Fraser was just saying this morning we should show our fellow man compassion. I highly doubt God would look kindly on your tossing Miss Sumner into the streets.”
“My compassion only goes so far,” Mr. Watson said between gritted teeth before he looked at Eliza. “I will send your belongings to you after you find a new place to stay. Given the fact that my daughter is partly to blame for this situation, I will include your wages along with your possessions. I will not, however, include a letter of reference. Heaven forbid you move to another family and put them through the same distress you’ve caused mine.”
Hamilton stepped forward. “You may send her possessions to my house.”
Eliza sucked in a sharp breath of air, but before he had an opportunity to reassure her that everything would be fine, Mr. Watson interrupted.
“You’re not thinking clearly, Mr. Beckett. Society will be all atwitter if it becomes known you’ve extended your hospitality to this . . . this . . . woman.”
“As my mother is currently in residence at my house, there will be no reason for any talk,” Hamilton said. “We often entertain guests, and that is exactly how we’re going to treat Miss Sumner.”
“But . . . what about Agatha?” Mr. Watson asked.
Hamilton wasn’t certain what Mr. Watson was suggesting. He released a sigh. “If you’re determined to throw her out in the streets as well, then by all means, she’s more than welcome to come along with Miss Sumner.”
Mr. Watson began to sputter. “That’s not what I meant at all, Mr. Beckett. I was referring to the fact that I thought you and my daughter shared a common affection for one another.”
“He has not listened to a word I’ve said,” Agatha grouched, sending Hamilton a look of apology before turning back to her father. “Mr. Beckett is a lovely gentleman, to be sure, as is his brother, but there’s no affection shared between any of us. You need to accept that.” She turned to Eliza. “You should go with Mr. Beckett for now, Eliza. He’ll look after you and help you with . . . you know.”
Eliza looked as if she didn’t know what she should do. She bit her lip and then lifted her gaze, her somewhat forlorn expression causing Hamilton to feel an odd jolt run through him. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“You’re wrong,” he said.
“I could stay in a hotel.”
“You don’t have any money,” Agatha said.
“It’s settled, then,” Zayne said briskly, before he turned and made his way back to his horse. “Shall we go? I, for one, am anxious to return home.”
“Now, just one minute,” Mr. Watson said. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.” He looked at Hamilton. “You’re making a big mistake. She’s not to be trusted.”
Hamilton glanced at El
iza and felt a smile tug his lips. She was gazing back at him, her eyes wide and somewhat wary, and he knew in that instant Mr. Watson was wrong; Eliza was completely trustworthy, and he needed to take her home with him.
She was a damsel in distress, and for some odd reason he knew he was the man who was supposed to rescue her.
He took Eliza by the arm and guided her to his recently returned horse, nodding once to Mr. and Mrs. Watson, even as the thought came to him that his life was becoming stranger by the second, and for some reason, it didn’t bother him in the least.
8
Is she dead?”
Eliza was having the loveliest dream regarding a dashing hero who just happened to look exactly like Hamilton, but it seemed somewhat odd to have that particular question interrupt it. A sudden sharp pain in her arm dispersed the last vestiges of sleep as her eyes flashed open and she bolted straight upright in bed. She was met by the sight of an angelic-looking boy with black hair peering over the edge at her.
“Did you just bite me?” she demanded.
The little boy nodded.
“We thought you were dead.”
Eliza shifted her attention to a beautiful little girl with golden curls.
“Why would you think I was dead?”
The little girl shrugged. “You weren’t moving.”
“I was asleep.”
“But you could have been dead,” the little girl proclaimed.
“Obviously, I wasn’t,” Eliza pointed out as she rubbed her arm where a welt was developing. She glanced to the boy. “It’s never permissible to bite another person.”
The boy’s lower lip began to tremble. “Sorry,” he muttered, his large hazel eyes filling with tears.
Eliza swallowed a sigh as her heart melted. She couldn’t very well stay angry at the child, given that he was seemingly distressed over his actions. She patted the edge of the bed. “Perhaps you would feel better if you sat down.”
The little boy’s tears disappeared as he scrambled up on the bed and beamed back at her, revealing a mouth full of sharp little teeth. Eliza resisted the urge to scoot away from him. “What’s your name?”