JONAH AND I watched from the rear balcony as L.J.’s carriage clattered down the back drive and onto the Old Laurel Road. The crowd in front continued chanting for another half hour or so, but then the rain picked up and extinguished their torches, and their anger, at least for tonight.
Before long I was seated in the ground-floor parlor with a snifter of brandy and a pot of coffee. Two of L.J.’s house-men were sweeping up the broken glass and bringing in planks to nail over the windows. Quite the sight. And quite the night.
A knock came at the door. I looked up to see Nelson, one of the houseboys.
“There’s a Miz Begley here to see you, sir,” he said.
I went and met Elizabeth in the front alcove. Her bonnet was glistening from the rain, and she looked uncharacteristically disheveled.
She reached out and took my hand. “Oh, Ben, I was in the courtroom today,” she said. “It’s awful, just awful. We all see what’s happening. How can I help?”
I led her to L.J.’s study, toward a green damask sofa, where we sat. Elizabeth untied the bow of her bonnet and shucked it off. Her hair went flowing onto her shoulders.
“I want to help you Ben. Please let me in. These hangings, all of it, has got to stop. Most of us in town want it to stop.”
“I don’t know what to say, Elizabeth. L.J. just took Allegra and their kids out of town.”
“Don’t push me away again. Please. I live here. I have more to gain, and to lose, than you do. Ben?”
After a brief silence, I told her about a plan that had been forming in my head. It was quite a daring one, and I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.
“Elizabeth,” I said. “You already are a help to me. Just knowing that I have your support and trust means everything to me.”