The door opened quietly. Elizabeth turned from the window and watched Justin enter the room. Their gazes met briefly before she turned back to stare out into the night.
“She hasn’t stirred?” Justin walked over and looked down at the still form on the bed.
“No. There’s been no change.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and concentrated on the contrast of silver moonlight and dark shadows in the gardens below. “What did Dr. Allen say?”
“It’s her heart.”
Elizabeth spun about. For a moment all that had happened disappeared in the face of their mutual fear. “Why did he leave? Is there nothing he can do?”
“Nothing.” The answer was short and bitter. “We can only wait.” Justin’s voice was ragged. He rubbed his forehead, then lowered his hand to knead the tense muscles in the back of his neck. “I feel so helpless!”
Elizabeth bit down hard on her soft lower lip and steeled herself against the pain in his voice. How she longed to comfort him! She started for the door.
“Where are you going?”
The obvious distrust in his voice stopped her in mid-flight. She turned to look at him. “To my room. I thought you would prefer that I leave now that you have returned to sit with Abigail.” His eyes flashed with—what? Anger? Disgust? She couldn’t tell it happened so quickly.
Justin dropped into a chair beside the bed and wrapped his strong fingers gently around Abigail’s old, misshapen hand. “There are times when personal desires must be set aside, Elizabeth. I want you here when Abigail awakens. She has grown fond of you.”
Elizabeth sucked her breath in sharply. How he hated her! It was there in his voice and eyes. She turned and walked back to the window, angry with herself for the tears that caused the silver streaks of moonlight to shimmer and shift, the shadows to blur into formless areas of darkness. She clamped her lips together to hold back the sobs building to an unbearable pressure inside her and clenched her hands in grim determination. She would not cry! She would not reveal her anguish to him! The last few hours of horror and fear, rejection and hurt, had taken a terrible toll. She had faced his unjust accusations, and his anger with dignity, but she had no strength left with which to face his scorn. What fortitude remained she needed to fight the stultifying physical, mental and emotional weariness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Time passed slowly, dragged reluctantly forward by the hands of the clock that sat on the mantel. The night shadows deepened. Elizabeth sighed and glanced at Justin. Moonlight outlined his weary, drawn face. If only they could talk! It was hard waiting in silence. The only sounds that broke the oppressive quiet of the room were the ticking of the clock, and Abigail’s heavy, labored breathing.
Elizabeth looked down at the woman who had become so dear to her and fear clawed at her heart. If Abigail died, she would lose everyone she loved tonight—and there was nothing she could do about it. Justin had made his position clear. He did not want to hear her explanation. And even if, by some miracle, she could make him listen, now was not the time. There would never be a time. They were separated by far more than the expanse of bed between them—they were separated by his love for his dead wife.
The darkness deepened. The cool, silver light in the room began to disappear. Elizabeth shivered as a sudden, strong apprehension gripped her. She lifted her head, looked into the thickening darkness above the bed and shivered again. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong! She looked down at Abigail’s still form and watched the uneven rise and fall of the covers over her chest.
Justin stirred restlessly—the inactivity was wearing at his nerves. He released Abigail’s hand, stretched his arms over his head and rose from his chair. It felt good to move. He walked around the room, rotating his shoulders, and lifting his hands to rub at the tight, thick muscles trying to relax them. He glanced at Elizabeth, met her sympathetic gaze, scowled and looked away. What an actress she was! The rush of anger made his muscles tense again. He reached up and massaged his temples, trying to rub away the dull, throbbing ache in his head.
What a night! It didn’t seem possible that only a few hours ago he had been riding home from New York with a heart full of hope. What a fool he was! He’d been blithely planning to win Elizabeth’s heart while she’d been planning his murder with her lover! The pain in Justin’s head sharpened and settled behind his eyes. His stomach roiled. He thrust all thoughts of Elizabeth away, lowered his head and walked around the room.
Elizabeth watched Justin as he paced. The moonlight was fading quickly, but she could still see the weariness and fear on his face. How hard this must be for him. He had lost so many loved ones. The thought brought a surge of compassion so strong it threatened to choke her. If only she could help him! But he wanted nothing from her. Elizabeth fought back tears, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Through all that had happened, she had learned there was only one source of help and comfort in times of need and despair. Father God in Heaven, I pray Your blessing on Justin and Abigail—
“I’ve had enough of this gloom!”
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of Justin’s voice. She held her breath as he spun about and yanked opened the door. He was leaving! She started to her feet, then sat back in her chair as he lifted the candle from the wall sconce in the hallway and headed for the bed, his long strides eating up the distance. Light surrounded him, bathed Abigail in its golden rays when he neared. Elizabeth blinked her eyes as the hovering shadows dissipated and darkness fled out the window into the safety of the night.
“I should have done this before.” Justin lit the candle on the bedside table with the taper he held in his hand. “There’s no reason to sit here in the dark.” He replaced the glass globe that protected the flame from the breeze coming in the windows, then moved about the room lighting every candle he found. “That’s better.” When he finished, he returned the taper to its place in the sconce beside the door, glanced at Abigail and resumed his restless pacing.
It was hard for him to ignore Elizabeth. She was sitting as quiet and motionless as a statue in her chair beside the bed, but her very stillness drew his attention. Justin scowled and cast a covert glance at her as he passed by. She was not acting the way he expected her to act—but then, she seldom did. Certainly her behavior was nothing like Margaret’s had been. Of course Abigail’s collapse—No. That would not explain it. Margaret would not have cared if Abigail, or anyone else, had died—including her own children. The pain in Justin’s temples increased. He sat in his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes, emptying his mind of all the disturbing thoughts. He was too exhausted, too angry, to think clearly now.
Someone was sitting on her chest! Abigail scowled. The pressure increased, and a wild fluttering occurred beneath her ribs. Fear pounced. She opened her eyes and stared up at the strange tester over her head. Where was she? She tried to lift her head to look around, but she was too weak. She slid her gaze to the right and the fluttering calmed. She was not alone—Elizabeth was with her. She studied the young woman for a moment, thinking her asleep, then noticed her lips moving slightly.
“Is that prayer for me?” Abigail frowned at the weakness in her voice. “I certainly feel as if I need one.”
“Abigail!”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet and placed her cheek against Abigail’s dry, wrinkled one. “How are you feeling?” She straightened and looked down at the elderly woman. “Are you in pain?”
“I’ll be fine as soon as whoever is sitting on my chest moves!”
There was a chuckle and Justin suddenly appeared in Abigail’s line of vision. “Gentle and sweet-natured as always I see.” His tone was light. He bent down and kissed her cheek. “That’s why I love you.”
“And I love you because you’re always so reverent!”
The words lacked her old snap.
Justin smiled. “Well, it’s clear there’s nothing wrong with your spirit, Abigail.”
His voice was hearty, but he didn’t fool her. The hand that held hers was trembling. She tried to squeeze it in reassurance, but the best she could manage was a gentle curling of her fingers.
Justin’s gaze dropped to their joined hands and he swallowed hard.
Abigail’s heart constricted. Did he know? Had he guessed? Surely he wouldn’t be this upset if he thought this a simple attack of the vapors? She drew a shaky breath—there was one way to find out. “What happened, Justin?” Abigail pushed the words past her weakness. “Why am I here?” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she sighed—he knew.
“Don’t play games, Abigail. Not about this.” Justin cleared the huskiness from his voice. “You know perfectly well what happened. Dr. Allen has explained your condition to you every bit as carefully and precisely as he did to me.” He held up a hand to stop her when she started to speak. “Yes, Dr. Allen. I sent for him when you collapsed.”
Oh bother! Abigail closed her eyes. She had wanted to spare him—
“It won’t do you any good to try to ignore me, Abigail.” Justin’s voice was quiet but firm. “When you are better, we’re going to discuss the fact that you didn’t tell me of your condition.”
Abigail snorted and looked up at him.
Justin’s control broke. “As God is my witness, Abigail, if you weren’t ill I would shake you! What were you thinking of, chasing after me in that carriage in your condition! You could have—” He stopped, lifted his hands and raked them through his hair.
When he looked back down at her she smiled. “Feel better?”
Justin scowled. “This is not a matter for jest, Abigail! You will stay in this bed until Dr. Allen pronounces you fit enough to be up and about. And that is not debatable!” He took hold of her hand again. “I’ve sent the carriage for Jeanne. She will stay here and care for you until Dr. Allen gives his permission for you to go home. Until then, you must rest and obey his instructions. Do it for my sake, Abigail. Please, do it for my sake.”
The plea robbed her of all argument.
Justin smiled, bent down to kiss her cheek, then straightened and cleared his throat. “Owen’s waiting downstairs. I have to go and give him the good news of your recovery. I’ll not be long.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, cast a cold glance in Elizabeth’s direction and left the room.
Abigail watched him go. She watched the door close behind him, then waited for his footsteps to fade away. She didn’t want him returning and interrupting her. When she could hear him no longer, she garnered her strength and turned her gaze on Elizabeth.
He was gone. What would happen to her when he returned? Elizabeth took a deep breath, turned her back toward the bed and pretended to plump a pillow in the chair beside her.
“Justin’s a dear, dear boy, and I love him—but he is also a fool.”
Abigail’s voice was gruff. Elizabeth blinked her eyes and smoothed over a dented spot in the pillow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know.” Abigail sighed. “Stop fiddling with that pillow and turn around, Elizabeth. I know you’re crying.”
“Crying?” Elizabeth wiped her face and turned to smile down at her friend. “Why ever would I be crying when I’m so happy you are all right?” She busied herself smoothing the already perfectly straight counterpane to avoid Abigail’s eyes.
“Because you love Justin, and he’s treating you in a perfectly beastly manner.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Abigail! How—?”
The old woman gave her an exasperated look. “I may be old, weak and ill, Elizabeth—but there is nothing wrong with my eyes.”
“Oh. Oh my.” Elizabeth sank down onto the chair and pulled the pillow onto her lap. “You must tell no one, Abigail. No one! I—I couldn’t bear it if Justin knew. I—” She stopped. What was she saying! She couldn’t betray the secret of their marriage. “I mean now that he thinks— Oh, Abigail.” Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. “What am I to do?”
“You might tell him.”
Elizabeth snapped her head erect. “Tell him. That I love him? Never.”
“Why not?”
“Because he hates me.”
“Nonsense! He’s simply—” Abigail closed her mouth tightly and glared up at the tester overhead. “He’s simply a fool! And so am I for making him a promise that’s almost choking me! Don’t you be one, too.” She locked her gaze on the young woman’s. “You listen to me, Elizabeth Randolph. A man does not chase after a woman he hates—at least not to bring her back into his home.”
“He does if she’s a purchased possession and his pride is injured!” Elizabeth gasped and clamped her lips together. She hadn’t meant to reveal that. She was too upset and weary to think straight. She rose to her feet and moved away before she blurted out more secrets. Not that it mattered now. She would not be in Justin’s home long. She would probably be sent to jail once this immediate crisis was over. Being innocent would avail her little against a man of Justin’s wealth and power.
“Then you won’t tell him?”
Elizabeth glanced back at Abigail and shook her head. “No, I won’t tell him.”
“Because of pride? Or because of that man you ran off with?”
Elizabeth stiffened with hurt and shock at Abigail’s questions. “It has nothing to do with Reginald Burton-Smythe—I loathe him! As for pride? I suppose that is the reason. And you may think it a foolish one…” In spite of her best effort, her voice trembled. She turned away before her, all too ready, tears started flowing. “I think it a foolish one. But pride is all I have left.”
Abigail’s heart squeezed painfully at the depth of pain and despair in Elizabeth’s voice and eyes. She sagged into her pillow, too weak, too weary, to think or talk further. Disappointment eroded her meager strength. She’d thought if she made Elizabeth angry she would blurt out the truth, but it hadn’t worked.
Abigail closed her eyes, then snapped them open again, afraid to rest—afraid to sleep—lest she not awaken. She forced herself to concentrate. She had to try again. She might not have another chance, and these two young people she loved so much belonged together—truly together. If only they would talk to each other!
“Elizabeth, please!” Her voice came out weak and thready. “You must listen to me, dear.” Abigail had never begged for anything in her life, but she begged now. “Elizabeth, you must talk to Justin. You must tell him how you feel. You must explain…what has…happened…and…”
Elizabeth spun around frightened by the increasing weakness in the elderly woman’s voice. “No, Abigail.” She made her voice firm. “I promise I will explain everything to you when you are better, but I will not talk to Justin. I have tried. He is not interested in my explanation. Now—not another word. You need to rest.”
“But, Elizabeth…Justin—”
“Not another word.” Elizabeth hurried to the bed. “You need to rest, Abigail. If you don’t—I’ll leave the room.” She lifted Abigail’s plump arm and tucked it under the covers, then arranged the blankets under the old woman’s chin. “The doctor left some medicine for pain. Would you like some?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
Elizabeth smiled. Abigail sounded like a petulant child—she was not used to being thwarted. “Very well then.” She made her voice soothing. “I’ll stay with you while you sleep. And we’ll talk again when you’re stronger. I promise. But, for now, sweet dreams, Abigail.” She leaned over and kissed the old woman’s wrinkled cheek.
“They’d be sweeter if…you’d tell Justin…the truth!”
Elizabeth shook her head.
Abigail sighed and tried again. “You have to…hear me out. Jus—”
Elizabeth placed her finger on Abigail’s lips and stopped her words. “After you’ve rested, Abigail. Or I leave.”
The old woman’s eyes closed. She muttered something about a broken vow and then she was breathing softly.
“Sleep well, Abigail.” Elizabeth stood looking down at her aged friend praying with all her heart that she would be all right, that she would have a chance to talk with her again. She wanted Abigail to know the truth of all that had happened. She gave a last pat to the counterpane and walked, again, to the window. It was almost dawn. That silent time when the creatures of the night have finished their nocturnal prowlings and scuttled off to their hideaways to rest, and the creatures of the day have not yet stirred. A time of peace.
But not for her.
The door opened, then closed.
Elizabeth didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. Her heart, her senses, every fiber of her being told her it was Justin. She could feel him. She listened to his footsteps cross the room and the creak of the chair as it took his weight. She waited. He didn’t speak.
Elizabeth’s heart ached. She leaned against the casing and let the warm summer night air flow over her as her thoughts chased themselves around and around in her mind seeking a solution to her impossible situation. She thought about being branded an adulteress and murderer. About going to jail. That thought had once terrified her; now, she felt nothing. She was too weary. Too benumbed by exhaustion. Jail would be better than this debilitating, humiliating, agonizing experience of living with a man that hated her. A man she loved.
Birds began to sing softly, their first gentle twitterings turning into full-throated songs as the first rosy streaks of a new day spread themselves in ever widening splendor across the brightening sky. There was no answering song in Elizabeth’s heart. There was only the leaden weight of hopeless despair. She glanced over her shoulder at Justin. He was asleep. His head rested against the wing of the chair, his features relaxed in slumber. She sank to her knees, rested her folded hands on the sill, and lifted her dry, burning eyes to the rose-colored sky.
“Father God, I have tried my best to do what is right—but everything has turned out all wrong. I’m weary. I have no strength left—and no answer.” Tears of exhaustion and helplessness slid down Elizabeth’s cheeks and made dark spots of dampness on her lavender gown. “I don’t know what to do, Father, and so I yield myself to Thee. Do whatever seems good to Thee, but, Father, please—whatever happens to me—make Justin, and Sarah and little Mary, happy. Amen.”
For several minutes Elizabeth knelt beneath the window with her head resting on her folded hands. The gentle morning breeze caressed her hair. It was so tempting to sink into the oblivion of sleep, but there was something she had to do. She forced her eyes open, lifted her hand to brush back the wayward curls on her forehead, then rose to her feet and walked toward the door. Her movements were heavy and cumbersome. She moved so sluggishly there might already be fetters about her ankles.
She stepped into the hall and headed for the bridal chamber, stumbling in her weariness, trying with her fumbling fingers to undo the bodice of her gown. A good wash would take away some of the exhaustion, and then she would visit Sarah and Mary. Her throat constricted. These few stolen minutes might be the last opportunity she would ever have to see them.