“Madam?”
Abigail opened her eyes. Owen was bent over her. He looked worried.
“Are you all right, madam? Would a cup of tea help, or—”
“No, no.” Abigail waved away the offer. “I’m fine.” She was feeling better. The weight had lifted from her chest and she felt able to breathe again. She lifted her gaze to the maid that stood a short distance away watching them with red, puffy eyes and motioned the girl closer.
“Trudy, is it?”
“Yes, mum.” The maid stepped forward and bobbed an awkward curtsy.
“Trudy, I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.” Abigail smiled to put the girl at ease. “You are Elizabeth’s lady’s maid, are you not?”
“Yes, mum.” The girl’s lips quivered.
“And you get on well with your mistress?”
“Oh yes, mum!”
“Ah!” Abigail nodded her satisfaction. “I know how that is. My Jeanne is my best confidant. We share our most private thoughts, and exchange perfectly scandalous confidences.” She arched her thinning brows coyly. “Of course there is not as much to share now, as when I was young, but still, we have our moments—as you and Elizabeth have your little moments and confidences. Now, I want—” Abigail stopped speaking as the young maid shook her head.
“If you mean secrets, mum, I don’t know any. She kept her secrets to herself.”
Abigail stared at the maid. She appeared to be telling the truth. “Did she tell you the name of the gentleman she went off with? Or where they were going?” Her voice was harsh with disappointment.
“No, mum.” Trudy’s eyes filled with tears. “She told me to put her two old dresses, Mr. Randolph’s blue dressing gown, and her necessaries in the cloth bag she brung with her and bring it to the library.” Her voice quavered. “She didn’t say nothing else. Not even goodbye!” Trudy’s voice broke and she burst into tears.
“Stop that crying this instant!” Abigail struck the floor with her cane. The sharp crack was satisfying. She struggled to her feet. “Crying is not going to help anyth—”
“Papa!”
Abigail snapped her head up. Sarah popped into view on the landing. She ran across it and headed down the stairs.
“Don’t run, Sarah! You’ll fall!”
Nanny Hammerfield came puffing onto the landing, cast an apologetic look at Abigail, and rushed after her charge. “She saw her papa through the window and—Sarah, slow down!” She grabbed for the toddler and missed.
Justin? Abigail twisted about as the sobbing child jumped from the bottom step and ran for the front door. “Stop her!” She jabbed her cane sharply into Owen’s ribs. “Stop her, I say!”
Owen recovered his equilibrium and started after the toddler, but he was too late. The door opened, and with a broken sob Sarah hurled herself at Justin.
“Papa!”
“Well, well! What’s this?” Justin bent and scooped his daughter into his arms. “This is quite a welcome.” He smiled as Sarah flung her small arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. Her tiny body shuddered. Justin’s smile faded. He glanced down at Sarah, then looked at Owen.
“What’s happening here? Why is Sarah crying?”
“I w-want my m-mama!”
Justin grinned at the plaintive wail. “Oh, I see. A childhood crisis.” He kissed the top of Sarah’s head and patted her back. “Don’t cry, Sarah. If you want your mama, you shall have her.” He glanced at his butler. “Owen go—”
The old man went rigid.
Justin scowled. What was wrong? Why was everyone gathered in the entrance hall? Everyone except the one he wanted most to see. He swept his gaze around the large room. Elizabeth was nowhere in sight. He looked back to the others and fear clutched his heart. They were frozen in place—like statues.
“Abigail?” He locked his gaze on his old friend’s face. “What’s wrong? Where is Elizabeth?”
“The b-bad mans t-tooked her a-w-way!”
“Out of the mouths of babes.” Abigail muttered the words under her breath and turned and glared at Trudy as she burst into tears, again. “Leave us! Go!” She swept her gaze to the nurse who stood at the bottom of the stairs with her mouth gaping open, lifted her cane and snapped it forward. “Take Sarah to the nursery and—” Her gaze met Justin’s. She sighed, lowered her hand and leaned heavily upon the cane.
“What man, Abigail?” Justin lifted a hand and halted Anna Hammerfield in her tracks. “What man took Elizabeth away? Where is she now?”
“I can answer that, sir.” Shinny stepped through the open door. “She’s aboard the Cormorant.”
Abigail gave a snort of disgust and sank down on the settee.
Justin turned toward the man behind him. “My wife is on the Cormorant?”
Shinny bobbed his head. “Aye. Caleb’s watchin’ her.”
“Watching her?” Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Why is Caleb watching her?”
Shinny shifted his weight. “Well, when he heard you was back in town he decided it would be best if he stayed there and kept an eye on her while I come to fetch you.”
An ugly suspicion popped into Justin’s mind. He stared hard at the seaman. “The Cormorant sails for London with the tide.”
“Aye. That she does.”
Shinny slid his gaze away to stare at the floor and Justin’s suspicion turned into certainty. The hope that had warmed him on the way home turned into an icy fist that gripped his heart. His face stiffened. He turned back to Owen.
“Did my wife leave a message for me, Owen? Did she say where she was going—or why? Or when she would return?”
“No, sir.”
The ice shattered, spreading its cold to every part of him. Justin loosed Sarah’s grip from around his neck, placed her in her nanny’s arms and walked out into the night. The numbing cold deadened his thoughts and feelings as he walked steadily toward the road, with Shinny at his side.
“Justin? Justin, wait! I’ve ordered my carriage brought round!”
He paid no heed to Abigail’s frantic call.
The cold was still there. Justin sat in the carriage listening to Abigail relate what she had learned of Elizabeth’s abrupt, unexplained departure with an unknown man and waited for anger to warm him, but the cold remained. Not even Shinny’s tale of the threat to his life heated his blood. When the soft lap of water replaced the clop of the horses’ hoofs and the rumble of the wheels, he climbed from the carriage, looked at the ship that held his wife and waited for the pain to hit him. There was only the cold. He could feel it in his flesh…in his eyes. He moved forward and stepped onto the wharf. His footsteps echoed hollowly over the water as he walked toward the Cormorant.
“Get Caleb.”
“Aye, sir.”
Zachariah Darby watched the seaman slip away, swore softly, then squared his shoulders as Justin Randolph stepped off the gangplank onto the deck.
“Good evening, Captain. I understand you have some passengers aboard.”
The captain flicked his gaze to Shinny who gave a negative shake of his head and sidled past Justin to lose himself in the shadows.
“I have only one passenger aboard, sir—your wife.”
Justin stepped closer. “I was told my wife came on board this vessel accompanied by a man, Captain—I want that man.” Anger began to burn like a red-hot coal in the pit of his stomach. “Where is he?”
“He’s gone.” The words roared across the deck as Caleb thumped his way out of the shadows to join them.
“Gone!” The shimmering coal of anger burst into flames and melted the ice that had frozen Justin’s feelings. He fastened a scorching gaze on the two men before him. “You let him get away.”
“Not exactly, sir.”
Justin stiffened. “Explain yourself, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Zachariah Darby glanced at Caleb. “Burton-Smythe had some difficulty on his way back to the ship from Gilly’s. He’s been impressed.”
Caleb chuckled.
Justin shifted his gaze to his huge friend.
Caleb sobered. “He’s aboard the Samurai. He didn’t do too well in his struggle against them that set upon him.” His lips drew back in a wicked grin of satisfaction. “Cap’n Snell owed me a favor.”
Justin clenched his hands into fists. “An imaginative solution, but I have other plans for Burton-Smythe.” He turned to leave.
“It won’t do you no good to go lookin’ for him. You won’t find anything but an empty berth.”
“The Samurai’s sailed?” Justin spun back. “With Burton-Smythe aboard?”
“Aye.”
He stared hard at Caleb. “I had thought to have satisfaction of the man.”
Caleb nodded. “It’s your right. I’d not have denied you your satisfaction had you been in town.” He lifted his massive shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “With you gone, I took matters in my own hands.” His voice sharpened with anger. “He was London bound with your wife! A quick death was too good for him.” The ex-seaman dropped his huge hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Snell will feed what’s left of him to the sharks. Still…I am sorry that the deed was already done when you returned. If I had known—”
“No matter.” Justin swallowed back his choler and looked up at the huge artisan. “I’ll not deny my disappointment, but it was a job well done in any case. I’m indebted to you, Caleb.”
“And to you, Captain.” Justin turned his attention to Zachariah Darby. “I’ll not forget your help in this matter. Now, since Burton-Smythe has been dealt with—” His voice hardened. “Where is my wife?”
“Right this way, sir. She’s in their…her cabin.” He turned to lead the way.
“One moment, Captain.”
“Sir?” Zachariah halted and turned to face Justin.
“The cabin—is it locked?”
The captain’s eyes darted to Caleb, then back to Justin. “No. The cabin has never been locked, Mr. Randolph.”
“She has not been forcibly detained?”
“No, sir.”
“And she has made no attempt to leave?”
The captain shook his head. “Not since boarding, though Burton-Smythe left her alone soon thereafter, and, of course, has not returned.”
“I see.” The ice returned and settled around Justin’s heart. “Has she made any requests of you for aid, Captain? Or of any of your crew?”
“I have had no conversation with your wife, sir. And no one aboard has approached the cabin. Caleb made certain of that.”
Justin shifted his gaze to his friend.
The big man nodded confirmation.
Justin’s last tiny glimmer of hope died. Elizabeth was here because she chose to be. The cold spread through him. He swept his hand forward. “Proceed, Captain.” The ship rocked gently under his feet as he followed Zachariah Darby toward the small passenger cabin that housed his wife.
Elizabeth stared out the porthole and watched the water lapping softly at the shoreline. It was so close! She slid her glance to the unlocked door and her hands clenched in helpless anger. Escape would be so easy—yet she dare not try. Reginald’s threats of physical harm to Justin and Sarah made her his prisoner more surely than any locked door, and he knew it. She would do anything to keep them safe. Oh, the evil arrogance of the man! He was so certain she would do exactly as he wished—and so she would—until they were upon the high seas. When they were where he could no longer reach out and harm Justin and Sarah she would be free to act.
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to the beautiful emerald studded gold band upon her finger and she slipped it off and put it in her pocket where it would be hidden from Reginald’s sight. It was the only thing of value she had, and it might buy her the captain’s protection. The thought of parting with it brought tears to her eyes but she brushed them away. She could not afford the luxury of sentiment. Nor had she time for weakness. She must think—plan her every move before Reginald returned. She turned her thoughts from Justin and the children, for to think of them would be her undoing. Those thoughts held a pain she could not bear.
Elizabeth looked again at the dark water and clenched her hands in determination. If all else failed, she would bribe a seaman to fashion a raft for her and trust herself to the sea and the mercy of the Lord. One thing was certain—Reginald would not touch her. Not ever! That would be worse than—
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. She tipped her head to one side and listened. Footsteps! He had returned. Fear robbed her of the strength to stand. She sagged against the wall as a wave of nausea swept over her.
Father God, please be with me now.
Elizabeth’s heart cried the prayer in silent entreaty when her lips refused to move. From somewhere deep inside she found the strength to push away from the wall and stand on her shaking legs. She drew a deep breath and lifted her chin proudly, knowing that above all else she must not exhibit fear. Reginald must never know how he terrified her. Her lips finally moved in a soft whisper as she stared with dread at the door. “What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.”
The door opened and Justin stepped into the room.
Elizabeth stared. His appearance was so unexpected she could not comprehend what she was seeing. Was it a trick of her mind? Was he only a cruel figment of her imagination? She closed her eyes, then quickly opened them again. He was still there—strong, solid and real!
“Justin!” She stumbled forward, sobbing his name.
“Stop!”
The word snapped through the air. Elizabeth stopped so suddenly she grabbed for his arm to steady herself.
Justin jerked away. “Do not touch me, madam! You sicken me.”
Elizabeth swayed.
“Do you intend to swoon now, madam?”
His voice was frigid. She looked up at him. Looked up into his cold, cold eyes.
“I can assure you it will do you no good. I am on to your tricks. I know of your lover, and your plot to have me murdered.”
“Murdered!” Elizabeth’s knees gave way. She dropped onto the edge of the cot. “Murdered? But that can’t be, I—”
“Enough! I don’t care to hear your lies.” Justin waved his hand toward the door. “The carriage is waiting. Will you come along quietly? Or must I use force?”
Force? Elizabeth’s mind reeled. She stared at Justin’s cold, stony face and her emotions plunged to a depth she hadn’t known existed. How could she have been so foolish as to think, for even a brief moment, that he had come to rescue her? That he cared what happened to her? He had merely come to take her back to—to what? Jail? Did it matter? Did anything matter now? She put her hand against the wall and rose slowly to her feet.
“I see it did not take you long to remove my ring.” Justin lifted his gaze from the bare hand Elizabeth had braced against the wall and locked it on her face. “Did your lover pawn it to pay for your passage to London?”
The cold contempt in his eyes and voice pierced Elizabeth’s heart. Pride gave her strength. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No. Reginald didn’t pawn it. I removed it myself.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wedding ring. Her heart splintered into a million tiny pieces as she held it out to him. “You keep it, Justin. It’s foolish of me to continue to wear the symbol of something that has never existed.” She thrust it into his hand, held her head high and walked out the door.
The sound of the horses’ hoofs ringing against the cobblestones was loud in the silent carriage. Too loud. They irritated Abigail. She glanced over at Elizabeth and frowned. The girl was so pale, so still, she might be dead. Except for that rigidly erect posture. Abigail sighed and looked down at her hands. She just couldn’t make herself believe that Elizabeth had deliberately plotted Justin’s murder. Run away with a lover, perhaps, but— No. No! She couldn’t make herself believe even that. There had to be an explanation! A reasonable—
A knife-edged pain slashed across Abigail’s chest. She winced and held her breath. Her misshapen fingers tightened on the cane she held. Slowly, the pain abated. She expelled her breath and cast a sidelong glance at Justin to see if he had noticed. She needn’t have worried. He was as still as Elizabeth, but there was an anger—no, a fury emanating from him that frightened her. She sighed heavily and leaned back against the seat. They were beyond her abilities. Only God could help them now.
Feeling old and weak and helpless, Abigail closed her eyes. Dear God in Heaven, have Your way in— Pain exploded in her chest. Abigail gave a surprised, agonized cry. The pain came again, sharper, more intense. She slumped forward, aware that somewhere beyond the white heat that stabbed through her Justin and Elizabeth were calling her name. And then, suddenly, the pain stopped. She slid into darkness.