When the innkeeper at the second Steventon inn hadn’t seen Eliza’s carriage either, Beck and Hart ordered a meal while they decided their next move.
“Somewhere between Hatfield and Steventon, Dalcliffe left the main road,” Beck said, thinking aloud.
“Why would he take the slow route home? He knows you’ll come after Eliza.”
“Why does he make any of the choices he does? I think it more likely they’re resting their horses somewhere other than an inn, where we’d be expected to look.”
“Do you plan to go door to door?”
“We don’t need to. It’s difficult to hide a carriage. Someone will have noticed one that is out of place.” Beck sat back to allow the innkeeper’s wife to set down their plates. “That looks delicious, Mrs.…?”
“Mrs. Smythe, my lord.” She nearly preened at the compliment.
“Mrs. Smythe. You must be an observant person with all these guests coming and going. Did you see a fine carriage in the village today? Perhaps even in the last hour or two.”
“I didn’t, but my son commented on one. He wondered why it was going to Malgrave’s place. The old man died two months ago.”
That sounded exactly like what Beck was looking for. “Where is Malgrave’s place? My wife’s carriage has gotten lost and I’m anxious to find her.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Go back three streets and go right. It’s the last house on your right.”
“Thank you.” Beck tossed his napkin on the table and stood.
“But my lord, you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m certain I’ll regret not enjoying the delicious meal, but I must find my wife.” Beck threw some coins on the table—a generous amount for a simple meal—and followed Hart outside. “Go to the blacksmith and inquire about a carriage. Then come find me, if I don’t find you first.”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Hart said. “Remember, Eliza is with him.”
Beck didn’t acknowledge the comment. He was already running down the street.
He slowed when he neared the end of the street. He doubted Dalcliffe would have someone watching the road, but he’d be a fool if he didn’t take care just in case. He skirted the house looking for the carriage and found it in the field next door, the horses nowhere in sight. That was a plus. Dalcliffe couldn’t follow Beck and Eliza quickly.
Moving stealthily, Beck approached a window close to the front of the house. Curtains were drawn with a small space between them, but years of dust muddied his view inside. He wiped it with his sleeve.
A man sat with his back to the window, his face not visible from that angle. Then Beck noticed Eliza.
Sitting with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, she watched out a front window. That little act warmed him. She trusted him to find her.
Before he barged in, he needed to make certain who else was inside. Dalcliffe had a bottle beside him, so he would be easily brought down, but Beck had no idea what protection Eliza’s brother would have with him. Having seen what he was willing to do out of pride or retribution, caution was wise.
Seeing the other rooms of the single-story cottage were empty, Beck checked the small outbuilding. No one was there. Where had the driver gone? And the servant Marjorie had said took Eliza away. Beck needed to act quickly before anyone returned.
He returned to the window and watched the brother and sister for a moment. Dalcliffe hadn’t moved. Eliza continued to watch the front of the house. Beck needed to get inside, grab Eliza and get outside before Dalcliffe could react.
There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to make that man think that slowly.
Beck looked around for a sturdy stick. He couldn’t use his gun with Eliza in the room. She might not forgive him for shooting her brother when she wasn’t there to witness it but seeing him shot would scar her forever.
A tree branch lay below a large oak in the yard. Beck picked it up and broke off the smaller branches, then hefted it to test the balance. Confident, he approached the rear door. Finding it open, he tiptoed inside the small kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Down a short hallway was the front room where Eliza and Dalcliffe were.
One slow, quiet step at a time, Beck approached the pair. Eliza glanced his way, her eyes widening when she saw him. He held a finger to his lips. She quickly turned away.
Dalcliffe hadn’t seen her reaction, so Beck moved silently along the wall to slip up from behind. He could see Eliza trembling, and prayed this next step went his way.
When Dalcliffe raised the glass to his lips, Beck swung.
Eliza screamed.
Dalcliffe fell to the floor with a groan but didn’t move. Eliza stood frozen, watching Beck, who checked if her brother was still breathing. “He’s alive. His men will find him soon enough, but we must leave, now.”
She nodded but didn’t move. Beck realized he had the stick in his arm and dropped it before going to Eliza and pulling her tightly in his arms. She clutched him and her shoulders began to shake.
Kissing the top of her head, Beck said, “Shh. You’re safe now. We can return to London before Dalcliffe figures out who hit him.”
While he doubted the man would sleep that long, Beck wanted to calm Eliza’s fears. Outside, a carriage approached. Praying it was Hart, he urged Eliza toward the door. “Hart is with me. Come. You’re safe now. We’ll be married by morning.”
No matter what it took, Beck would make certain of that.
* * *
Eliza had slept against Beck’s shoulder for a few hours on their journey back to Marjorie’s house, and a few hours there once she’d convinced Mama to lie beside her. Her mother was afraid to let Eliza out of her sight, but Eliza insisted. Thus, when she dressed for her wedding early the next morning, her head ached and her eyes burned.
“Perhaps you look a little peaked,” Marjorie consoled her, “but you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world to Beckhampton.”
Marjorie had loaned her a hat trimmed with lavender flowers and ribbon to match her purple-sprigged gown. Eliza couldn’t decide whether pinching her cheeks would improve her appearance or make her red eyes more obvious. She chose against doing anything more than curling the fringe around her face that would peek out beneath the hat brim.
Finally, she accepted that there was nothing more she could do to improve her look.
“Enhance,” Marjorie chided. “You don’t need improvement.”
“I hope Beck agrees. Where are my gloves? We must hurry or Beck will think I’m not coming.” Eliza found her gloves and reticule on the bed and donned them while crossing the hall to Mama’s bedchamber.
Her mother sat on the bed wringing her handkerchief. Tears trailed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, my child.”
Eliza ran to her and knelt at her feet. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“If only I’d stood up to your father. Or taken you to my parents’ house where we could have lived in peace.” Her voice broke on a sob.
Taking her mother into her arms, Eliza shushed her. “None of this was your fault. You took care of me the best you knew how. If anything had gone differently, I might not have met Beck. I certainly wouldn’t have as much appreciation for what a great man he is, had I not known what evil looked like.”
Taking her mother’s handkerchief, she dabbed the woman’s cheeks. “Yes, Father was evil. He should never have treated you the way he did. We’re both enjoying a new beginning now, you and I. You’ll have nothing to do beyond making clothes for the babies I’ll have one day, and teaching them to read French as well as you do.”
Eliza squeezed her mother one more time. “I love you, Mama. And I’m so happy you are able to share my new life. It will be perfect, just as Beck is.”
Mama smiled. “Yes, he is perfect for you, Eliza. Such a good man. Allow me to wash my face and we’ll go to him at the church. This will be such a beautiful day. One you’ll remember the rest of your life.”