by Martha Keyes
As time went on and the farmers began to feel the weight of the interest, Stratton would offer them alternatives to paying the interest—an expressed hope by Stratton that they would support him in the upcoming election, for instance.
That hope became an expectation, and it wasn’t long before Stratton expressed his great regret at being unable to forgo the interest payments any longer and, indeed, needing to increase the interest percentage, due to his own financial situation which, from all Mr. Gaines could tell, had never been better. When Gaines had asked for leniency, Stratton had found other ways for the interest to be “paid” and had made threats of reclaiming the land.
The knowledge of what type of person Stratton was caused Elias to send a prayer of gratitude to God that he and Matthew had stopped Edith from her intention of going to see him. He was far too practiced in obtaining his aims for Edith to come out of such an encounter unscathed.
After a night full of tossing and turning, evidenced by the rumpled state of the bedclothes and Elias’s equally rumpled hair, he partook of a simple breakfast and went on his way. He didn’t relish the encounter he was about to have. In some ways, it felt as though he was doing something very much like Stratton had been doing: forcing compliance under threat.
But Stratton needed to be stopped. Even if Edith had not been a victim of his wiles, he needed to be taken care of, just as Oxley had said. If the borough borders were miraculously realigned, Stratton would have an entirely new population to deceive and extort, slipping a noose over their heads before they realized what he was about.
No, it was for the best that Elias intervene.
And Edith would be free.
Stratton was all civility in welcoming Elias into the library, but there was an amused glint in his eye that hadn’t escaped Elias’s notice.
“I wondered if I might not receive a visit from you,” Stratton said, pouring Elias a glass of brandy, which he refused.
“I confess I am surprised to hear you say that, sir,” Elias said. “We are hardly acquainted, after all.”
Stratton swirled his brandy, leaning back in his chair and resting his heels on the edge of his desk. “What poor sop can resist rescuing a damsel in distress?”
“Better to rescue a damsel in distress than to distress a damsel, I think.”
Stratton met his gaze, and a little smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth. “They are more interesting in distress, though, aren’t they?”
Elias wanted to throw Stratton’s glass of brandy in his smug face, but he knew it was unnecessary. Elias held the winning hand, and he was determined to play it with the same cool composure Stratton oozed.
“I am here, as you have implied sir, to speak with you on the matter of Mr. Donne and his daughter.”
“Does Donne know you’re here?”
Elias hesitated. He didn’t like to go above Donne’s head, but the man would look more foolish if Elias claimed Donne was aware of his intervening. “No, he does not. I admittedly have little interest in whatever feud lies between you and Mr. Donne except for how it concerns Miss Donne.”
Stratton clucked his tongue. “Very unfortunate, isn’t it? One would think the offspring of such a paragon of virtue as Leonard Donne claims to be would have more care for her reputation. Reputation is such a fickle thing, though, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, sir. You perceive the purpose of my visit quite clearly.”
Stratton threw back what remained in his glass, setting it down on the desk with a clank. “I am afraid Edith’s reputation lies entirely in the hands of her father. He knows his options, and it is for him to decide whether he wishes to” —he cleared his throat significantly— “jeopardize it.”
Elias thought of the folded foolscap inside his waistcoat. He wanted to dangle it in front of Stratton’s face and watch the arrogant smile disappear. But he resisted, taking in a breath. He would give the man an opportunity to do the right thing first.
“You know that is untrue, sir,” Elias said. “You have the power to remove the threat, and I ask you to do so. Prove your honor as a gentleman. Resist the temptation to toy with a woman’s reputation for your own gain.”
Stratton’s smile became more of a sneer. “You arrive at my house unexpected and uninvited, Mr. Abram, and then you insult me, expressing your doubts about my claims to the title of gentleman. Tell me, is your conduct the type you encourage me to adopt to prove that I am indeed a gentleman?” He tugged at the end of his coat, ensuring it covered the white wrist of his shirtsleeves. “I can’t help but wonder what other evidence I might find in your life that contradicts your claim to the title,” he mused.
Elias’s brows drew together. “You cannot help but threaten and extort, can you? It is your first impulse.”
“And yours is to insult.”
Elias smiled wryly, thinking of all the times he and Edith had hurled witty insults at one another. If Edith were in the chair across the desk from him, she would throw an insult right back at him—one even more stinging than his own. “I confess it is somewhat of a pastime of mine.” He leveled a serious gaze at Stratton. “This pastime of yours, though—the threats—they stop today, sir.”
Stratton raised two brows in feigned curiosity. “Not only a master of insults but a foreteller of the future. Very impressive, Mr. Abram.”
“Not a foreteller of the future, sir. Merely a holder of powerful information.”
A wary light entered Stratton’s eyes, but he said nothing, his brows still lifted.
“Your activities, sir, as a Member of Parliament are gossiped about. They are the subject of discussion among those who run in your same circles. And yet no one has made an effort to determine their veracity—until now. Reputation is, as you say, a fickle thing, and I felt you deserved that someone should disprove the defamatory rumors against you—to prove you were the gentleman and worthy candidate you have claimed yourself to be. I took that upon myself.”
Stratton was still in his seat, the only movement the controlled rise and fall of his chest as his breath came through flared nostrils. “And what did you find? You have my interest.”
“Far more than I—or Lord Oxley—expected.”
Stratton’s gaze was fixed, unblinking, upon Elias. “Lord Oxley?”
Elias nodded. “He is a friend of mine and Matthew Donne’s, you know, and takes an interest in both our families.”
Elias watched with satisfaction as Stratton’s throat bobbed, though his face showed no hint of alarm.
“You will remove the threat from Mr. Donne and his daughter, or Lord Oxley will be obliged to make known your dealings, sir. In addition, you will cease to threaten the landowners in your borough or face the same fate—a publishing of your methods to your fellow MPs.”
“You are lying.”
Elias shrugged. “Would you care to hazard your future on that assumption?”
Stratton’s sneer became more pronounced. “You use the same tactic on me, then, that you condemn me for?”
Elias rose from his seat. “A man must speak in the language his fellows understand. I have taken the liberty of sending Lord Oxley an account of my discoveries. If he or I receive any report that casts doubt upon your intention to function with honor in your dealings, he will have no choice but to make the contents of that letter known to your fellows in both the House of Commons and the House of Lords.”
Stratton’s face was taking on a red hue, and his close-fisted hands shook.
Elias inclined his head. “I trust you will forgive me for dropping in unannounced. I won’t trouble you to see me out.” He set his hat atop his head, stood, and left.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elias had not returned to Shipton House the night before, a fact Edith had managed to garner from her maid as discreetly as she could. She felt empty, knowing he was gone—or perhaps she was merely hungry. She had hardly eaten at dinner again. She felt ill-at-ease, too, for her father had arrived late the night before, and she feared how he would rea
ct to the knowledge of Elias’s disappearance.
A part of her was even angry with Elias for it. He and Matthew had assured her that they would find a solution together. She hadn’t believed it at the time—she still didn’t believe it—and yet she was bothered that neither of them had spoken of it since.
She wondered with a clenched stomach if perhaps Elias had decided to simply leave. He had mentioned that he was willing to take the brunt of her father’s ire by refusing to cooperate, and it had certainly been a noble offer. But his disappearance did not accomplish that. Edith could hardly marry a man who was nowhere to be found, of course, but her father wouldn’t hesitate to blame her, for he required a target for his anger.
She had to believe Elias wouldn’t leave her in such a situation—and without saying goodbye.
She herself was a mess of emotion—fear, hope, anger, love—and she felt entirely incapable of predicting which of them would win out.
When the dreaded summons from her father came, with no word or sight of Elias, Edith forced herself to breathe in calmly. She hadn’t any idea what she would say to her father. She supposed she could only tell the truth: she hadn’t any idea of Elias’s whereabouts. And while the prospect of braving her father’s reaction left her feeling vulnerable and alone, she supposed it was fair. It was her fault any of this had happened, and she should be the one to bear the consequences.
Matthew stood a dozen feet away from the door to their father’s study, leaning his back on the wall and chewing on his thumb. He stood straight as he saw Edith, a commiserating grimace replacing his pensive expression. He put a hand on her arm. “He’ll be mad as fire that Eli’s not here.”
She hardly needed to be told as much. She shrugged. “There is nothing to be done.”
Matthew frowned and shook his head. “I can’t understand it. I didn’t expect this of Eli—to abandon you at such a time.” He met Edith’s eyes, which, to her embarrassment, stung at his words. “He loves you, Edith. I didn’t think it possible, you know, but I think I’ve had him wrong all this time—my own best friend.” He paused. “I know you haven’t asked my opinion, but I think you should marry him.”
Edith felt the familiar prickling of her pride, the impulse to exert her will in opposition to what Matthew was saying.
“Just think,” he continued. “For once in their lives, Mother and Father are in agreement on something, and I’m no politician, but their endeavor seems like a worthy one. But if you refuse, I can’t help feeling it will all fall apart. And for what? To defy Father? To stake your independence?”
Edith clenched her eyes shut. “Stop, Matthew. Please stop.” She could feel her pulse quickening and the anger beginning to rise, and she didn’t think she could stop it if it rose any further. All of her emotions were too close to the surface, covered by a thin veneer of pretended calm.
He gripped his lips together in frustration. “I know, I know. You can’t abide anyone telling you what they think you should do.”
“It hardly matters,” she said with a bite to her tone, her gaze flitting to the windows. “I can’t marry a man who’s not here, can I?”
“Edith!” Her father’s peremptory voice sounded from the study.
Matthew squeezed her arm a last time. “He’ll come back, Edith. And when he does, I hope you’ll be able to see past your pride.” He walked away, and Edith stayed a moment longer.
Her pride? Did he really think this was still merely a matter of pride?
She exhaled and stepped into the study.
“Where’s Abram?” her father barked.
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” she said, taking her seat.
“Given you the slip, has he?”
She didn’t answer.
“Well,” her father said, looking at the paper that lay in front of him on the desk. “We shall see about that. I’ve managed to get you a special license, and I don’t intend for all my efforts to—”
He stopped as a knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.”
The door opened, and Elias appeared in the doorway. His gaze seemed to skip over Edith entirely and move directly to her father.
“Ha!” her father cried. “There you are. And a good thing. I’ve known you quite some time, Abram, and I never took you for a coward. I was disappointed when I thought you had made a run for it. Glad to be wrong.”
“I was out on some business, sir, and have only just returned.” He stepped farther into the room. “I merely wished to inform you that the threat from Mr. Stratton need no longer concern you.”
Edith froze, her eyes fixed on him.
“Eh?” her father said.
Elias clasped his hands behind his back, and Edith had the feeling that he was avoiding her gaze. “I said that Mr. Stratton’s threat—the one—”
Her father waved an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, I know which threat. I meant the second part.”
Elias cleared his throat. “The threat is gone, sir.”
It was impossible to think that Elias didn’t feel her eyes boring into him, willing him to look at her. Her breaths were coming in quick, unsteady succession.
“I don’t believe it,” said her father. “If this is your way of escaping your duty...”
“On the contrary, sir. I felt it my duty to see to it that Mr. Stratton’s heavy-handed methods were put to a stop.”
Edith heard the implied insult to her father in the words—he had been ready to sacrifice his daughter rather than stand up to Mr. Stratton himself. It had required Elias to take action.
Edith’s father scoffed. “And you think you’ve managed such a feat.”
Elias inclined his head. “With the help of a friend, yes. Mr. Stratton understands that, if any word reaches either me or Lord Oxley of his attempting to extort and threaten people, he will be tried and removed from his position.”
Edith abandoned attempting to force Elias to look at her and looked to her father.
For the first time, he seemed to hesitate, his eyes flitting to a paper on his desk. “How?”
“I doubt it will come as a surprise to discover that you are not the only person Mr. Stratton has attempted to force into compliance. I was able to speak with some of his other victims, and they provided ample evidence to convict him if he is ever tried.”
Her father picked up the paper in front of him, staring at it thoughtfully. The light shone through it, revealing a tax stamp in one corner and an official seal at the bottom. The special license. “How can I be certain? I went to great trouble to acquire this license, after all.”
A flash of annoyance crossed Elias’s face. “If my word is insufficient, Mr. Donne, I will request Lord Oxley to send his reassurances to you.”
Edith’s father looked searchingly at Elias for a moment then shook his head. “No. That won’t be necessary. You would be a fool to concoct such a story if it were false.”
Silence filled the room for a moment, with still no evidence that Elias even realized Edith was in the room.
He cleared his throat. “And now, if you will excuse me, sir, I have some family business to attend to. If you have any questions regarding the matter, you are welcome to send them to me by post. I apologize for the inconvenience this has been to you and your family.”
He bowed to her father and then—finally—turned his gaze to Edith. She stood, and he held her eyes for a moment then bowed and left the room.
Edith stood transfixed, staring wide-eyed at the door Elias had disappeared through, her mind trying and failing to grasp what had just occurred.
He hadn’t abandoned her to her father. He had come back. Even more than that, he had found a way—an alternative—just as he had said he would.
And now he was gone, without a word to her.
She knew an impulse—so strong that she took the first step—to chase after him. But what would she say? Her mind was reeling, and her heart even more so. With the sudden removal of the weight that had been pressing down on her—her f
ather’s demands, his political career, the Parliamentary vote; Elias’s honor and wishes; her own reputation—Edith hardly knew what to feel.
“Well,” her father said, rising from the desk and brushing his hands together. “That is certainly a relief. Dashed if I thought Abram had the gall to confront someone like Stratton.” He walked towards the door, stopping to smile at Edith and tweak one of the wavy curls framing her face. “Free as a bird now, aren’t you? Just as you wished.” His face became sterner, and one of his brows rose. “And learned your lesson, too, I should hope.”
She merely stared at the door and, realizing she wasn’t in a state to respond to him, her father left with a little “hmph.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elias had expected to see relief on Edith’s face when he had delivered the news. Indeed, he had been so terrified of seeing that relief that he hadn’t dared meet her gaze. He had felt her eyes on him the entire time he was in the study, willing him to look at her, and it had taken all his will not to give in.
But he hadn’t been able to leave without one glance at her, and that brief moment had nearly broken him. There had been no relief in her face—only astonishment. Only questions. And much as he had wished to answer them, he knew he couldn’t. It was left to her to make what she would of what he had done.
He’d had to leave before she could say a word—before all that he was feeling inside spilled over, undoing everything. Edith knew he loved her—he didn’t need to say it again. Now he just wanted her to be happy—to be free.
Giving up Edith felt like more than losing just her, though. It felt like losing his future. He couldn’t replace her. There was no one like Edith Donne.
He sighed and couldn’t help glancing through the small back window of the chaise. No carriage following him. Of course not. It was silly to think Edith would do something as dramatic as chasing after him. Leave such things to Viola. It was stupidity to expect anything. He had accepted that it was all over now. But there was nothing as maddening as that little bit of hope that persisted despite all efforts to stamp it out.