Elizabeth flailed her arms out into the surrounding darkness to fight off her attacker. With a strangled cry she flung herself upward, then sat looking frantically about unable to accept that there was no one there. Trembling, afraid to close her eyes, she sank back against the fluffy feather pillows and stared up at the red silk tester overhead. “It was only the nightmare—only the nightmare. Reginald is not here. He cannot find you. He cannot hurt you. You’re safe.”
Elizabeth’s voice shook as she spoke the words aloud to reassure herself. It didn’t work. Fear engulfed her like a dark cloud. She shuddered and climbed wearily from the bed. There would be no sleep for her now. She resigned herself to another sleepless night, loosened the sash of Justin’s dark-blue dressing gown, then knotted it more snugly about her small waist. A frown knit her brows together. She was losing weight—and she could ill-afford it.
She gave a long sigh and crossed to the window. Moonlight washed the landscape with silver, giving an ethereal beauty to the trees and plants in the gardens below. She ignored the lovely scene and focused her gaze on the golden candlelight that spilled across the brick walkway. He was in his study again.
Elizabeth shivered, wrapped her arms about herself and moved to the hearth. It seemed she was always cold lately. She placed more wood on the fire, sank into the chair behind her, and stared into the leaping flames. What had gone wrong? Why had Justin withdrawn himself so completely from her? She’d thought they were communicating well lately. That they’d become—well, not exactly friendly—but at least more than coldly polite.
Elizabeth rose to her feet and walked to the dressing table to pick up her grandmother’s brooch. Touching it made her feel a little better—a little less alone. She fastened it haphazardly to the blue silk dressing gown. It didn’t matter. No one would see her. She sighed and padded barefoot across the rich, Oriental carpet.
Had she done something to offend Justin? Was that why he no longer spent time in her company, or slept in this room? Or was the problem his grief over his wife? She knew he grieved. She had seen the look of hopeless despair that had swept over his face that afternoon in the library just before he walked out—and since that day he had not come near her. He left the house before dawn and returned long after the household was asleep. She, alone, was a silent witness to his comings and goings—to the long, lonely hours of solitude he spent in his study. She was distressed by his pain. She wanted to help him. But what could she do?
Elizabeth shivered again, then brushed her hands rapidly up and down her arms creating a false sense of warmth as she moved back to the window and gazed at the patch of light below. Didn’t he notice that the candles burned in her room also? That she, too, was unable to sleep? Or had he noticed and simply didn’t care?
Sudden tears blurred her vision. She turned from the window. What did she expect? Elizabeth blinked away the tears and swept the vastness in front of her with her weary gaze. She hated this room. It was so big…so lonely…so red!
So empty without him.
Unbidden, and unwelcome, the thought tumbled into her mind. Elizabeth frowned. It wasn’t only the room that seemed empty without him—it was her life. Her days were full. She spent her mornings planning menus with Cook and consulting with Mrs. Jeffers and Owen about household matters. Her afternoons were occupied playing with the children, overseeing their care with the new nanny, discussing patterns and styles with Madame Duval and making herself available for fittings. She had never been so busy. Yet her life felt so empty. It was a contradiction of facts.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the window frame. Her entire relationship with Justin Randolph was a contradiction of facts. When he was with her—she wanted him gone. When he was gone—she wanted him with her. Without him she was lonely and afraid—and with him—
Elizabeth jerked her head upright. Afraid without him? Now, why had she thought that? It was Justin himself that terrified her to the point of swooning! Yet, if she was honest, she had to admit that somehow his presence in the room at night made her feel secure enough that it had kept away the nightmare of Reginald’s attack. That horror had not started until after he had left her alone. Oh, that was ridiculous! How could a man that terrified her make her feel safe?
Elizabeth pushed the confusing thoughts away and went to curl up in the chair by the hearth. If only she had someone to talk to—someone to advise her, to help her through the morass of emotions and fears that beset her so she could find her way in this strange relationship. She sighed, leaned her head back against the soft, padded wing and stared into the flames feeling more rejected, more bereft and lonely than ever before.
Justin scrubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands, stretched his arms, then pushed back from his desk. It was no use. He couldn’t concentrate. He’d read the same bill of lading a dozen times and still couldn’t remember the items listed.
He walked to the French doors and threw them open. The soft sounds of night rushed in on the cool, fresh air. He threw a disgusted glance at the pile of papers waiting on his desk, stepped out onto the porch and swept his gaze over the moonlit gardens. He knew what the problem was. The problem was, he’d been forced to make a decision he didn’t want to make.
Decision. Hah! That word was only to salve his pride. He had made no decision. A decision was based on choices. He had none. He was well and fairly ensnared by his own clever plan—hoist with his own petard!
Justin scowled and leaned his shoulder against the pillar at the top of the steps. Why, in the name of all that was holy, had he ever given Elizabeth his word not to touch her? I will never touch you…there will be no personal involvement between us…you are, and will remain, my wife in name only… How those words haunted him, taunted him, these last few days. He was trapped by them. They gave him no peace. If he’d never spoken them he would at least be free to court Elizabeth, to woo her and try to win her heart. Instead, he must remain detached and distant.
Justin turned his back on the moonlit night and returned to his study. He had only himself to blame this time. He had tried to use his anger and bitterness as weapons against further hurt and disappointment, but, somehow, those weapons had been turned against him. He was now their victim, instead of their master.
Justin strode to the fireplace, kicked the burning logs apart with the heel of his boot and knelt down to bank the fire. Why did he bother with the reasons? The matter was clear. He must live by his word. An honorable and upright man, Justin, is one that ‘sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not!’ That man, Justin, shall dwell with the Lord. His lips twisted into a grim smile at the memory of his grandmother’s teachings. He scooped up ashes and spread them over the smoldering wood. Ashes.
Justin tossed down the shovel, rose to his feet, and picked up his jacket, waistcoat and jabot from a chair. “Well, Nana, you will be pleased to know that I learned that lesson well. I will not go back on my word.” He grimaced at the taste of bitterness in his mouth and threw a sour look at the ceiling. “But just the same, that promise rings hollow tonight. You see, Nana, what I want now—is to dwell with Elizabeth.”
Admitting it out loud made it worse. Justin looked down at the gray ash smothering the fire from the logs hidden beneath, then glanced back up at the ceiling. He slanted his lips into a bittersweet smile. “And I wish you had made me memorize that ‘beauty for ashes’ verse, Nana—before it was too late.”
Justin snuffed the candles, let himself out into the hall and closed the door softly behind him. Candles burned in the hallway to light his way. He grimaced and snuffed them out as he went. Owen knew. They all knew. Thought of the gossip that must be buzzing around the servants’ quarters made him cringe. But that, too, was his own fault. Elizabeth had been playing her part well—he would have to do better. He smiled grimly, climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to Elizabeth’s room.
The click of the door latch startled her. Elizabeth dropped her hairbrush and spun about. Justin was standing in the doorway looking as surprised as she. For a moment they simply stared at one another, then, he nodded politely, pulled the door closed and advanced into the room. “I didn’t expect to find you awake at this hour, Elizabeth. Is something wrong? Are you ill?”
“No. I’m quite well, thank you.” She felt a little breathless—he must have frightened her more than she realized. Afraid her shaking knees might give way at any moment, Elizabeth reached out and gripped the back of a nearby chair.
Justin glanced down at her hand and stopped. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I would have knocked had I known you were awake.” He scanned her face. “You are ill.”
“No, I’m fine. Truly.”
Her voice was shaking. Justin frowned. “You don’t look fine. You’re pale, and there are circles under your eyes.” He slid his gaze down her slender form. “Are you losing weight?”
A tingling warmth spread across her cheeks at his close perusal. “A little.”
“If you’re not ill, why are you losing weight? Aren’t you eating properly?”
Elizabeth bit her lip and bent to retrieve her hairbrush. She had no answer. She could not admit to him she’d had little appetite since he’d left her to dine alone. She was acutely aware of him standing behind her as she placed the brush on the dressing table.
“Elizabeth?”
His voice floated over her shoulder. Her stomach knotted. She was feeling far too weary and distressed to spar with him tonight. Her eyes filled with sudden, unwelcome tears of self-pity. She took a deep breath, blinked them away and turned toward him. “Yes?”
“You’re not sleeping, are you?”
It was the unexpected tenderness in his voice that was her undoing. Elizabeth’s defenses collapsed. Tears sprang into her eyes and her lower lip began to quiver. She opened her mouth to answer and a sob burst from her throat.
“Elizabeth!” Justin reached for her, then dropped his hand to his side. “What is it, Elizabeth?” Emotion thickened his voice. “Tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help.”
“No!” The very idea of Justin’s knowing of Reginald’s attack filled her with horror. Elizabeth spun away. “I can’t talk about it, it’s too—too— It’s the nightmare!” She gasped as the words burst out of their own volition. She began to tremble. “It’s horrible! And frightening! And it comes back every time I fall asleep.”
The tears came in earnest then. She couldn’t stop them. They poured down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands and pressed her trembling fingers against her closed eyes, but still could not stem the flood. “Oh, dear God—oh, dear God—I’m so tired…and frightened…and alone!” She rocked back and forth in her misery, and then, suddenly, Justin’s arms were around her.
“You’re not alone, Elizabeth. I’m here.”
His voice was soft and comforting. His arms strong and warm. Elizabeth sagged against him. Her hands buried themselves in the crisp, white front of his shirt. She clung to him, sobbing, and the hot moisture of her tears soaked the fabric beneath her face. He drew her closer—laid his cheek against her hair. “Don’t cry, Elizabeth. Shhh…please don’t cry. You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m here, Elizabeth. Shhh…shhh…”
Justin slid his hand up and stroked her hair. He cupped her head and rocked her in his arms. Elizabeth sighed and relaxed against him. Her hands released their clutching hold on his shirt and slid slowly down his chest. His heart beat with heavy, rhythmic thuds beneath her ear. Her eyelids fluttered…stilled.
Justin glanced down as Elizabeth went limp in his arms. He skimmed his gaze over her long, damp lashes, pale cheeks, and soft rose-colored lips. They were parted ever so slightly in slumber. He tore his gaze away from her, lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. His face taut with the effort to withstand his feelings, he laid her down and drew the covers over her.
She was sleeping like a child. Justin brushed a curling, golden tendril of silky hair back from her temple, then turned away.
Elizabeth whimpered—stirred.
Justin turned back. He took her hand in his. She quieted. For a moment he stood looking down at her, then he reached behind him, pulled a chair over, sat and leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Good afternoon, mum.”
“Good afternoon, Trudy.” Elizabeth mumbled the words and swept her heavy eyelids back down over her tired eyes as she snuggled more deeply under the covers. Good afternoon!
Elizabeth jerked to a sitting position and stared at the maid sitting quietly in a chair beside her bed. “Trudy! Why are you here? What—” She stopped and gave her head a quick shake to try and clear her sleep-befuddled mind. “Is something wrong?”
“No, mum.” Trudy set aside the apron she was hemming and rose to her feet. “That is, if you’re feelin’ better.”
“If I’m feeling better?”
“Yes, mum.” Trudy cocked her head to one side and studied her. “Mr. Randolph said you was feelin’ poorly last evenin’, an’ I was to stay with—”
“Oh! Oh, no!” Elizabeth threw herself back against the pillows, rolled over and hid her face in their fluffy softness. Her cheeks burned. She burrowed deeper trying to blot out the image that had flashed into her mind. How could she have? Oh, how could she possibly have snuggled against Justin like that? What must he think? “Ohhh!”
“Mum? Mum! Are you all right?” Trudy’s low-pitched voice rose in a wail of concern.
Elizabeth gave another muffled moan and shook her head as best she could with it buried in the pillows.
“Oh, you are feelin’ poorly!”
Elizabeth felt Trudy’s pats of comfort on her back.
“Don’t worry, mum. I’ll run fetch Mrs. Jeffers. She’ll know what’s proper to dose you with.”
The pats stopped. There was the sound of rushing footsteps. Elizabeth bolted upright. “No!”
The sharp command halted Trudy’s headlong rush. She spun about. “But, mum, I don’t know what to do! An’ Mr. Randolph said—”
“That will be enough, Trudy!” Elizabeth had no intention of listening to what Justin had said about her. “I’m not ill. And I do not need to be dosed with anything. What I need is a nice, soothing bath. Have Tobie bring the water immediately.” She dropped back against the pillows.
“A bath. Yes, mum.” Trudy bobbed a curtsy. “Do you want a tray then, mum? Some broth?”
“No. Only the bath. I’m not hungry.” In truth, she didn’t care if she ever ate again. What she wanted was to hide— to simply stay in bed forever. Elizabeth lifted a silk-clad arm to cover her eyes, and bit back another moan. How could she possibly face Justin?
“If you’ll be all right alone, mum. I’ll go an’ fetch your bathwater.”
“I’ll be fine, Trudy, I—you?” Elizabeth lowered her arm and looked at her maid. “Where is Tobie?”
“He’s helpin’ with all the scrubbin’ an’ cleanin’, mum.” Trudy turned and headed for the door. “I’ll be—”
“What scrubbing and cleaning?” Elizabeth pushed herself to a sitting position. “What are you talking about, Trudy? I’ve ordered no special scrubbing and cleaning done.”
“No, mum. It’s the bridal chamber.” Trudy pulled the door open, then turned back and smiled. “Mr. Randolph ordered it ready for tonight.” She stepped out into the hall.
“Trudy, wait!”
The maid paused. “Yes, mum?”
“Are—are we having guests?”
“Oh, no, mum. It’s for you an’ Mr. Randolph.”
The door closed.
The bridal chamber! Elizabeth stared at the closed door while fear twisted and coiled in her stomach. Justin had ordered the bridal chamber prepared! She retched—then retched again. Bile rose into her throat. She threw back the covers, clapped a hand over her mouth and ran for the dressing room.
She was being cowardly—she knew that—but Elizabeth couldn’t make herself leave the nursery. Justin had been gone all day, called away by some emergency at his waterfront warehouse, but now he had sent word of his return—along with a request that she join him at table. How could she? Oh, how could she?
Elizabeth laid her hand on her churning stomach and tried to ignore the tension thrumming along her nerves. Her embarrassment over her actions of the night before no longer troubled her. It had been swallowed up by this new terror she faced. She needed a solution before she faced Justin. But what? She’d wrestled with the problem all day and no answer had presented itself. She was so terrified by all that the move to the bridal chamber implied, she couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think at all. She could only feel.
Elizabeth thrust all thought of the coming night away and focused her attention on the little girl looking up at her. Poor little girl, locked in her world of silence. She closed the book she held in her hands, placed it on the bedside table and looked down into Sarah’s watchful brown eyes. “That’s enough for tonight, Sarah. I’ll read more tomorrow. Do you like the story?” She waited, hoping for a response. Her heart lifted when the toddler gave a brief nod. At least she was making some progress with the silent child.
“Good. I’m glad you like it. Now, it’s time to say good-night. I’m afraid it’s past time for little girls to go to sleep.” Elizabeth rose from her chair and tucked the covers closely around the toddler and the freshly washed, mended but still ragged doll she clutched tightly in her arms. “Sweet dreams, Sarah.” She longed to hug and kiss the child good-night, but contented herself with brushing a stray wisp of hair back from her soft, smooth cheek. “Close your eyes now, while I pray.”
The little girl shut her eyes. Elizabeth’s throat tightened. Sarah was such a good little girl. But she was so sad and wary and distrustful. Had her mother’s death caused her to become this silent, cautious creature that looked out at the world from some safe hiding place? It must have been a terrible, frightening experience for her. Elizabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat, bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Dear God, in heaven, I pray that You will bless Sarah. That You will give her visions of Your holy angels watching over her to keep her safe. And that You will bless her father and her sister Mary. Keep them safe, dear God, and help Sarah not to be afraid. Help us all not to be afraid. Oh, God, please, take our separate, wounded souls and make them whole. Turn us into a family, God, and make this house a true home. Amen.”
Well! Her heart had quite run away with her. Thank goodness Sarah was too young to understand what she had prayed! Elizabeth opened her eyes and gazed down at the toddler. She was already asleep.
“Good night, precious Sarah, sweet dreams.”
She snuffed out the bedside candle and turned to leave the room.
“Good evening.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth’s hand flew to her throat. She stared, wide-eyed, at the tall, shadowy form in the doorway.
“I keep startling you. I’m sorry.” Justin moved forward into the room.
Hot blood flooded Elizabeth’s cheeks. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard her prayer? She had just called him a wounded soul! She stared up into Justin’s dark, unfathomable gaze as he came toward her.
“I came to join you in saying good-night to the children.” He smiled. “I thought Mr. Buffy might approve.”
Elizabeth gave him a weak smile, took a step backward and clutched at the corner post of the bed for support as he stopped beside her. “I’m certain that he would. But, I’m afraid you’re too late. The children are asleep.”
“So I see.” Justin looked down at the sleeping toddler. “She’s awfully small, isn’t she?” He lifted his gaze back to Elizabeth. “Does she always look that angelic when she’s sleeping?”
There was something warm and wonderful in his eyes. Elizabeth nodded and gripped the bedpost harder. She had a sudden, all but overwhelming desire to step into Justin’s arms—to find out if his embrace would be as gently comforting, as safe and secure, as it had seemed last night. Her cheeks burned at the thought. She glanced, thankfully, at the extinguished candle and turned away.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“As I have failed to accomplish my first purpose in coming here, I wonder if perhaps you would be kind enough to grant me my second.” She turned back to look at him. He smiled. “I dislike eating alone, Mrs. Randolph. I’d like you to join me at table.”
Mrs. Randolph! Shock jolted Elizabeth to her very toes. Warning signals flashed in her mind. He had never before called her Mrs. Randolph! Was it his subtle way of telling her what was to come?
Everything inside Elizabeth screamed run—run! But there was no place to go. She would not escape this time. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her mouth went dry. It took every ounce of courage and self-control she possessed to stay in his presence. “As you wish.”
She stiffened with fear when Justin placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the door. Her legs felt as if they were made of wood as she walked beside him.
“Oooh, mum!” Trudy crooned as she unwrapped the parcel and lifted the garment out for Elizabeth’s inspection. “It’s the perfect gown for you to wear on your first night in the bridal chamber! An’ look!” She reached into the crumpled wrapping paper and pulled out a frothy mixture of white silk and lace. “A dressing gown that matches it! Oh, mum. You’ll be a true picture you will!”
Elizabeth’s face blanched—her stomach knotted. Thank heaven she hadn’t been able to swallow a bite of food at dinner!
Trudy laid the beautiful garments carefully on the bed and reached into the wrappings again. “Oh!” The maid turned to Elizabeth. There was a pair of silk slippers trimmed with white fur on the palms of her outstretched hands. “Did you ever see the like?” Her words were an awed whisper.
“No, I never have. They’re lovely.” Elizabeth reached out and brushed a trembling fingertip along the soft fur of the exquisitely feminine creations, then turned away, unable to bear the sight of them.
“Slip ’em on, mum, do!” Trudy thrust the slippers into Elizabeth’s hands. “I’ll get the gown….”
Elizabeth shook her head to clear her mind of the memory. She glanced down at the lovely nightwear created for her by Madame Duval and frowned. She hadn’t wanted to wear it—but there had been no reasonable excuse she could think of for not doing so. She could not tell Trudy the truth of their marriage of convenience. What a sensation that would cause in the servants’ quarters!
Elizabeth paced the length of the large room, the beautiful white-silk dressing gown floating about her like a cloud, her hands clenched in helpless anger. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t change his mind. He had given her his word! But what else could explain his sudden orders to have them moved into a bridal chamber that had been locked since his first wife’s death? What other motive could he have?
Elizabeth’s anger dissolved before a rush of fear. Justin Randolph could do anything he wanted in his own home. Who was to deny him? She darted her gaze about the room. What should she do? What could she do? She was at Justin’s mercy. “Oh, God, I’m so afraid! Help me. Please help me!”
What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.
The verse out of the book of Psalms slid into Elizabeth’s mind. She stopped pacing. That’s what Miss Essie had always said. Was that the answer—to trust God to protect her?
A soft knock on the door made her jump.
“I put my trust in Thee, God! I put my trust in Thee!” Elizabeth whispered the words into the emptiness of the room, then turned toward the door to face whatever was to come.
“Has Trudy gone, Elizabeth?” Justin stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. “Or is she—?” His words stuck in his throat, choked him. Elizabeth stood before him in a chaste white dressing gown, her golden curls framing her lovely face, tumbling over her shoulders. His heart thudded. “I see Madame Duval has made another delivery.” He frowned, and cleared the huskiness from his voice.
“Yes.” Elizabeth stared at his frown. “You’re not pleased?”
“Oh, I’m…pleased.” Justin twisted his lips into a wry grimace at the anemic description of the emotion the sight of her produced in him. He kept his gaze locked on her face. Now that he knew it was no act her innocence amazed him—it also drew him like a magnet. “Madame Duval is to be commended on her work. It’s lovely. And I’m certain she has achieved the very result she was hoping for.” He started forward into the room, then paused as Elizabeth stiffened and raised her chin. “You give yourself away, you know.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When you lift your chin like that.” Justin fastened his gaze on Elizabeth’s small, rounded chin. “You give yourself away. It means you are either frightened, or ready to do battle.” He lifted his gaze and locked it on her dark-blue eyes. “Which is it?”
She took a deep breath. “Both.”
“I see.” He took a few more steps into the room and stopped a short distance from her. “Would you care to explain?”
“We are in the bridal chamber.”
The muscle along his jaw twitched. “So we are.” He glanced at the ornately carved four-poster bed draped with beautifully worked needlepoint. “I swore I would never open these rooms again.”
“Then why have you?”
He shifted his gaze to her face. She went as white as the gown.
“I—I mean if…if these rooms hold painful memories for you, then why open them?”
“It seemed the best solution.”
“Solution?” She shuddered. “To what?”
There was a tremor in her voice. She didn’t trust him and her courage was deserting her. Justin frowned. “To sleepless nights, loneliness…fear and nightmares.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “You’ve opened these rooms for my sake?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t sleep forever on a chaise, Elizabeth. And if I’m absent it seems you can’t sleep at all. These rooms seemed the sensible solution.” He inclined his head toward the far end of the room. “That door leads to the husband’s dressing room. There’s a bed there for when the wife is…in a delicate condition. That’s where I’ll sleep.” He looked back at her. “I trust it will be both close enough—and far enough—to assure you of your safety, and permit you to rest.”
“Oh.”
It was a very small word, spoken in a very small voice, but it said volumes. Suddenly, Justin was weary. This business of coming to life again was painful. “If you’ve no further questions, Elizabeth, I’ll bid you good evening.” He made her an impeccably proper bow, then started for his sleeping quarters. “I trust you will find your room comfortable.” He paused and gave her a wry smile. “At least it’s not red.” He reached for the door.
“Justin, wait. Please.”
He turned to face her. “Yes?”
“I want to apologize.” Her cheeks turned pink. “You see, I thought…well…I thought—”
He lifted his hand to halt her stumbling attempt to explain. “I know what you thought, Elizabeth. But you were wrong. Perhaps one day you’ll learn to trust me.” He dipped his head, stepped through the opened door into the room beyond, and pulled the door closed.
Shame washed over Elizabeth. How selfless of him to endure the pain of opening these rooms so she might not have to be afraid. It was the kindest, most generous thing anyone had ever done for her—and she had repaid him with nasty suspicion.
Perhaps one day you’ll learn to trust me. Tears sprang to Elizabeth’s eyes. A lump formed in her throat. Could she learn to trust him? Would she ever trust anyone again? She sighed, blinked away the tears that blurred her vision and turned toward the bed. The beautiful white dressing gown billowed out in a frothy mist around her at the movement.
Elizabeth stared at the image reflected against the darkness outside the window. Was that truly her face staring back at her? She stepped closer. Was that young bride really Elizabeth Shannon Frazier? An unrelenting pressure filled her chest, a sob burst from her throat. No! That bride was Justin Davidson Randolph’s wife! And that, was a lie.
Elizabeth ran to the bed and buried her face in a pillow to muffle the sobs that shook her for the young bride in the window that would never truly be.