Page 8 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
Just outside Durham, Northern England
Eliza strokedher daughter’s dark curls. Althea’s lips were pursed and moving in her sleep, a bit of spittle spreading a small dark stain on her mother’s knee. The coach hit a rut, bumping its passengers into the air and back down on the cushioned bench.
“My lady, I really must know where we are bound. While itisexciting, stealing away at dawn like a spy, no one will know where to find me.” Mrs. Watkins smiled but one hand gripped the leather strap dangling by her head, knuckles showing white. Her brown traveling dress and matching pelisse were dusty from days on minor country roads. She pushed a frizzy, fading auburn strand back under her bonnet and fanned her heaving chest with her other hand.
“I thought you had no family, which is one reason you were hired.” Eliza heard the tone in her own voice, sharp and suspicious, and hated it. She was not a deceptive person by nature, nor did she appreciate adventure. But Falsbury had insisted that their destination be concealed. Besides, the woman would find out soon enough.
“I-It’s not a family member, you see, only a friend. I don’t want her to worry.” This time her smile was genuine, making her blue eyes crinkle. “She has been very kind to me since I was a young lass.”
Oh, botheration!The poor woman was a spinster with no living family, and she’d dragged her away from her companion. It didn’t matter the situation was dire, Eliza did not need to be rude.It also occurred to her that she’d had no idea
“I do apologize, Mrs. Watkins. Lord Falsbury has us both at sixes and sevens. If you must correspond with anyone, please do not give our direction. Only let them know that you are in fine trim.” She leaned across the carriage and squeezed the governess’s hand. “It is imperative in order to keep Lady Althea safe.”
The older woman covered her mouth, eyes large. “Oh, my lady, you know I would never doanythingto harm my sweet Thea. It’s not important at all, don’t you fret about it.”
“I hope to explain everything soon, and we can laugh about this covert escapade. But in the meantime, secrecy is of the utmost importance. There are very few people that know. Very few people the marquess or I trust.”
Mrs. Watkins’s chin shot up and a hand to her bosom. “And I am one of those trusted employees?”
Eliza nodded, hiding the smile teasing her lips.
“I’ll guard the little one with my life, I will. Nothing more need be said.” The governess tipped her head and watched Althea sleeping. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt such an angel as herself.”
Eliza nodded again, leaned her head back against the stuffed velvet, and closed her eyes. Exhausted, she tried to empty her mind. They would reach Sunderland Castle today. The trip had been long since they avoided the major roads and tolls. After multiple nights at small out-of-the-way inns, she was ready for a comfortable bed with layers of ticks, filled with feathers and down. Last night, there had only been three mattresses—the first two stuffed with straw and the top one with flock. The rope across the frame had not been tightened in quite a while, and the whole bed sagged. Her back ached, her eyes burned from crying and lack of sleep, and her head pounded from multiple days in a jarring vehicle. The crunch of the wheels against the road and the sway of the coach finally lulled her to sleep.
It was so dark. She ran toward the tiny pinprick of light and the sound of wailing. Eliza ran and ran but her mother’s voice never seemed any closer. “Where are you? I’m coming.”
“You can’t help her now. I’ve done her in, and this whining little chit is next.”
Eliza kept running. Her lungs burned, and it took all her effort to move one leg then another. The blackness surrounded her like an opaque mist, swirling around her feet, clinging to her skin. Screaming, she stumbled and fell. A child whimpered and Eliza looked up to see a hulking shadow in the narrow ray of light. He held Althea high above his head with one hand.
“Obedient daughters incur less pain. Have you been obedient?”
She shook her head, a trembling hand reaching for her daughter. “I will, I will be obedient. I promise. Please don’t hurt her.”
“You will do as I say? No tricks?” He hissed the last word. “Let’s be certain of this.”
He dropped the child into the arms of the woman at his feet. With a sneer, he took a fistful of her hair and pulled Mama’s head up. “Let me show you what will happen if you disobey again.”
Her mother’s empty eyes looked up, the dark circles giving her a face a ghost-like appearance. She handed the baby to Eliza. “Take care of my granddaughter. I will be out of my misery soon.”
His fist came down, cracking a bone in her mother’s face and snapping her head backwards. A small sob escaped but her eyes remained determined. She moved her head back and forth tentatively and worked her jaw. Slowly she stood and placed Althea in Eliza’s trembling arms. “My life is over. Yours can be different. Don’t give up. Don’t give in to him.”
This time his boot kicked her in the back, and she fell face forward. Her chest rattled as she took in a breath. Rising to her knees, she pleaded with Eliza, her words accompanied by a sickening wheeze. “Don’t. Give. Up.”
He buried his fingers in her dark matted hair and yanked hard. She closed her eyes, a tear escaping down her battered face. In a hoarse whisper, she uttered her last word. “Promise me.”
“I promise, Mama. I promise.” Eliza clutched Althea to her and backed away.
Her father’s fist came down once more. Her mother crumpled to the ground. One gasp and her body stilled.
“NO! NO!”
“My lady, wake up. Please, you will frighten the child.”
Eliza’s eyes flew open, gasping as she drew in air. Althea squirmed on her lap, rubbing her eyes with chubby fists. Sunlight streamed through the window slats, and she pulled the cord, yanking them up to breathe the cool air, in then out. In then out. As her lungs filled again and again, her body relaxed. The trembling stopped. It had been a dream. Only a dream.
The carriage slowed and Eliza poked her head out to see what lay ahead. Two young men were circling an aged woman lying on the ground. She wore a white blouse and dusty gray skirt, a bag clutched beneath her. Her face, streaked with tears and dirt, scrunched up in anger.
