Sea of Fire (23 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Elizabeth’s carriage circled shadow-laden Dawson Street and halted five town houses down from Christian’s residence. She had originally planned to return home, get a good night’s rest and be out early the next day before he arrived. His total disregard for her, and next his demand that she sit and wait until he was ready, infuriated her the more she thought about it.

The idea flashed into her mind to watch his home. After the woman left, she would insist he speak with her. She knew that to journey home and try to sleep would prove futile until she learned what he and Roderick had planned.

Now, she questioned the wisdom in her decision. From all appearances, his Mary Margaret was set to spend the night.

She envisioned Christian and the woman locked in an embrace. At once, the green demons of jealousy surfaced. What reason would she have to give a flea’s foot what he did? Perhaps her impulsive actions did not have her own best interests at heart.

As if in reply, the door to Christian’s home flung open and Mary Margaret, now fully clothed, stomped through it. She glanced up and down the street, spotted a hired hack, boarded it and sped away.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of her seat. Whatever Mary Margaret had planned, clearly hadn’t transpired the way she wanted. How fortunate.

She stepped down from the vehicle and hurried to Christian’s doorstep. She raised her hand to lift the knocker when it crossed her mind that perhaps what she was doing was not such a grand idea. She was acting from emotion, not clear thinking. Perhaps after an evening passed, whether she slept or not, she’d see the situation in a different light, or not. She hurried back to her carriage and urged the driver to return her home at once.

With Hannah gone, no lights shone from within the town house. Earlier, the emptiness and quiet in the house, had not affected her. Now, she dreaded the solitude, hesitating on the doorstep. What if Hannah never returned again? What if her father ... She’d be alone.

Memories came to mind of a time gone by when she was a small child and she overheard her mother tell her father that she was leaving them. It still hurt after all these years. To hear such harsh words as
I no longer love you, I’ve met another,
had haunted her dreams when she was young. Though the words were spoken to her father, she had reacted to them as if her mother had said them directly to her. Time softened the hurt, yet Elizabeth always housed in the back of her mind a fear that Hannah and her father might leave her, as her mother had. The years passed, but her fears about being alone stayed with her. Perhaps if she had acted more interested in the men who came to court her, she’d have married. Yet, a marriage without love held no appeal.

She took a deep breath and told herself what she usually did when such insecurities surfaced. Her father and Hannah were different personalities from her mother, and this was a different period in time.

She hurried inside. The moment after she shut the door behind her, she sensed, more than heard, that someone was in the house with her. Slowly, she crept in the shadows along the wall to the parlor. Someone stirred down the passageway along the staircase and moved farther from her.

Her pulse pounded in her throat. Had she caught a robber in his act of thievery? Seconds passed. She stood glued in place. Nothing moved. Her intruder apparently wasn’t going to take action either. She was near enough to the front door, where, if she chose, a short sprint would enable her to be back outdoors. Once outside, she could seek help. Would this house-violator charge after her to stop her, though? Either she or the intruder had to make their presence known lest they stand in place all night. Better for her to flee, than face this interloper.

Even as she determined this and reached for the door handle, it moved with no help from her. Another intruder was about to enter her home. She scampered back into the parlor. What if the caller sought out the thief? Having raced off into the parlor, she now blocked off any means of possible escape. The trespassers need only to stand at the entrance and she’d be captured. However, if she hid along the wall in the parlor next to the entry, perhaps her intruders would step into the room far enough to give her passage to slip out from behind them and through the front door.

She tiptoed into position. The knock again barely sounded when she listened to the creak of the door opening. If this person followed the passage along the staircase, he’d meet the other intruder. Perhaps, this would be the opportunity to run like the demons were after her.

Unfortunately, the person moved towards her. What would she do if he entered the room? Next instant, she faced that dilemma. The person entered the parlor and paused as if to decide which side of the doorway to go.

It was now or never. She lifted her skirts and fled. Her hand reached for the entry door. The same instant a strong arm encircled her while a large hand covered her mouth, muffling her scream. He dragged her back to the parlor.

“ ‘Tis me,” Christian whispered and removed his hand from her mouth. “What is going on here?”

“You scared me witless,” she whispered. “I returned home to find someone in the house. A thief, I believe. I heard him near the staircase.”

“You stay here. I’ll go see.”

“Nay,” she said with concern.

Christian halted. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me?”

“Nay. Of course not,” she lied. “I’m not sure if he’s armed or not. Fair is fair.”

“If he were armed, he would have pursued us by now. Wait here.”

The moment Christian left, her nerves became taut.

She leaned against the cool wall in the parlor, waiting, praying that the intruder would give up and leave. It was not to be, for she next heard the tormented plea of a familiar voice, urging her and Christian to desist and depart.

A scuffle ensued and before she could dwell on it further, she cautiously stepped away from her parlor position and saw Christian haul a gentleman by his coat collar into the entryway. Christian roughly shoved him forward against the staircase. He fell, but immediately pushed himself upright.

“Please, I’m a friend of the residents,” he said.

Though it was too dark to clearly see the intruder, his voice had sounded familiar to her.

“We’ll find out,” Christian said and next addressed her. “You’re free to light some lamps.”

She did so and when she turned to face Christian and his captive, she covered her mouth in surprise. Mr. Clark!

“Elizabeth, I can explain,” her father’s magistrate friend stammered. With more confidence he added, “But then you better explain to me where Edward is.”

“You went upstairs?” She raised her arms and lowered them in despair. “You were prowling in my home? You’re a magistrate like my father. You of all people should know better.”

“I knocked several times before I realized the house was dark. I became concerned about you and Edward. With Edward ill, surely someone would be in attendance around the clock.”

Christian interrupted. “It still gives you no right to invite yourself inside.”

“Me? You should talk. You did the same,” he said more bravely in a manner more congruent to his heftiness. “Who is this man, Elizabeth?”

Before she could think of a response, Christian said, “I am Edward’s doctor. I had Edward moved to the country. I came back for some of his belongings.”

“Oh,” the magistrate said meekly, having been put in his place.

“You still haven’t told us why you are here. Did you think to assault the lady?”

How could Christian have made such an accusation? She opened her mouth to protest and caught Christian’s wink. Apparently, he meant to shock the man.

Mr. Clark stared at Christian in disbelief for some seconds before he addressed the issue.

“That is absurd! And, the farthest idea from my mind.” He gave her a pleading glance “My wife lost a tortoise-shell hair comb. It was a gift from her mother. She kept crying and whining over it. I thought I’d retrace our steps or hers to see if I couldn’t find it. I swear to you, Elizabeth.”

“I believe you,” she answered. “It was all a misunderstanding. I appreciate your concern, but as you have heard, the doctor has moved Father. Madam Clark’s hair comb is not here. ‘Tis late and best you leave.”

The magistrate exhaled. “Aye. Thank you,” he said and instantly rushed out the door.

Christian and Elizabeth stood in the doorway. She watched, noting how Mr. Clark treaded quite agilely for a big man. When he reached the street, he turned around and yelled, “You will keep me informed about Edward.”

She waved. “I will.”

She backed inside and Christian shut the door.

“Once again, you’ve saved me from a difficult situation. Thank you,” she said. “I’m curious, though. What are you doing here? I thought maybe you brought the package with the platters you carried for me, but I see you’re empty-handed.”

“I’ll bring the package tomorrow. Right now I’m here to reassure you, but God only knows why I bother.” He walked over to the staircase and sat down.

She moved to stand before him. He reached up, grabbed her arm and tugged her to sit down beside him. They sat hip to hip in silence far too long for her likings. She could feel the heat from him even through the skirt of her gown. His nearness caused an odd, but pleasurable sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“Well,” she said impatiently.

“You wanted to know about Roderick.”

“You’re planning to meet with him. I think I should be included in such arrangements,” she said. “After all, it’s my father whose life is at stake here.”

He leaned his back against the stairs, resting his elbows on a step. “First of all, Roderick knows nothing of my involvement. I promised you he wouldn’t. Consequently, nothing is at stake here. Secondly, this is not the meeting your lack of trust in me and imagination conjured up.” He stared at her, apparently checking to see her reaction to his comment.

She remained calm and quiet, partly because she wasn’t quite sure how she felt, how she wanted to respond to him.

“What were you, Roderick, and the spirits proprietor doing in the back of the shop?”

“We weren’t doing anything. The proprietor insisted we investigate his more expensive bordeaux.”

“Was Roderick’s being in the shop a coincidence?”

“Aye. If you recall, I purchased your silver teapot from him. He was surprised to see me, considering I told him I was returning to my estates. I was surprised he remembered me. As you know, that was a little more than three weeks ago, but I explained to him I was summoned to Dublin on business. He suggested I come by his shop. He had some silver wine decanters he wanted to show me, if I was interested. Then you arrived.”

“Oh,” she said. “But I heard you tell him you would come to the shop. Is that your intent?”

“At first, I considered it, but then I decided nay. I’ve had Roderick followed for ...”

“You have?” she interrupted, very much surprised. “When did this occur?”

“The end of the first week that I suspected your involvement with him. I couldn’t keep tabs on both of you at once.”

Again she expressed shock. “You were watching me, too?”

“Aye. Unfortunately, Roderick’s activities proved to be quite ordinary. I dismissed the man I hired to tail him. You, on the other hand, displayed strange behavior for a lady. Does this knowledge disturb you?”

She paused, smiled and said, “Nay. I never considered you or anyone would be watching me. That being the case, I must agree my life has been far from normal since my father’s abduction.” She turned to face him better and her knees bumped his. She touched the place where they had, and said, “Sorry.”

He reached to hold her hand. “When are you going to start trusting me? Have I not proved to you we’re on the same side? I want to find my brother—you, your father.”

His thumb caressed the top of her hand, making it difficult to concentrate. Such a small gesture affected her. She pulled her hand free and moved her knees away. “I’m sorry. I guess I never truly expressed my gratitude. You have my heartfelt thanks.”

“I don’t want your thanks. I want your trust. We’ll succeed with our mission—for I won’t stop until I find Adam. Will you allow yourself to trust me? Did I not solve your counterfeit coin problem, save you from Mr. Clark twice, and nurse you back to health after overindulgence?”

“Your case is strong,” she said, and smiled. “I owe you that much. Come.” She grabbed his hand and coaxed him to his feet. “I’ll make you some coffee before you leave.”

A short time later, they were comfortably seated in the dining room. Christian took a sip of his beverage and asked, “Where does he want you to do this drawing?”

“The Liffey Supply building,” she answered. “ ‘Tis the same place where I drew the pattern for the shilling.” She carried her empty cup to the sideboard. “He led me to believe this wasn’t for Adam. Wouldn’t that make Adam angry?”

Christian frowned. “It would make anyone angry to find out you have a partner cheating on you.”

Next instant, he shoved his chair back from the dining room table and jumped to his feet. “That’s it.”

“What?” she asked in concern.

“Roderick must have some extracurricular activities in mind.” Christian stood posed with his feet spread and hands behind his back, contemplating his own words.

“Aye. What difference does it make?”

“If we can find out in what way he is betraying Adam, we would have bargaining leverage.”

“Aye,” she said excitedly. “But why do we have to wait to find out? What does it matter if Roderick is or is not? We could threaten to inform Adam now. This would cause Roderick some grief.” She smiled and said, “That is, unless Roderick agreed to tell me where my father was, and have him released.”

Christian paced the floor. “You’re moving too fast, Elizabeth. If you threaten Roderick, he’s liable to have you killed, or become angry enough to kill your father.”

Her stomach did a flip-flop. She knew if she could see herself in her looking glass, she’d be considerably paler. She lived with the fear that her actions would cause her father’s death. As for her own demise, the aspect definitely frightened her, whether she believed in the hereafter or not. She never considered herself brave. She dealt with the subject in the only way she knew—to put it from her mind.