Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (14 page)

Louisa giggled.

“I did see a pony…” James said.

Louisa squealed in delight and Rose stood, clearly not happy with this development. “James.”

“I haven't bought him.”

“Yet,” Rose said.

James readjusted Louisa on his hip and turned to Elizabeth. “What is a man to do when he's torn between the two women in his life? Someone's going to have quite the birthday.” He kissed Rose on the cheek and then nibbled at Louisa's neck until she broke out into a fit of giggles. Rose smiled adoringly at her daughter, but Elizabeth hadn't noticed her look at James the same way. They seemed happy enough. While James was certainly madly in love with both of them, there was something reserved about Rose when she was with James. Something changed when he came around. She pulled back just the tiniest bit. Elizabeth could see it now in her eyes, something not quite wary, but ill at ease.

“Are you coming to my party?” Louisa asked Elizabeth.

Rose smiled almost apologetically at Elizabeth. “I do hope you will.”

“I'd love to,” Elizabeth said. “And you're going to be eight?”

Louisa nodded vigorously.

Rose reached over and tried to tidy Louisa's slightly unruly curls. “Louisa, I swear, your hair has a mind of its own.”

“Leave the girl be,” James said, twisting so Louisa was out of her reach. “We like it just the way it is, don't we darling?”

Louisa nuzzled into her father's neck and Rose cast a quick uneasy smile at Elizabeth and sat back down.

~~~

Simon had listened to the Colonel expound upon the virtues of good breeding for what felt like hour upon hour. His horse, Bucephalus, had come from the line of Little Venus who had run at Columbia in under eight minutes. Simon alternated between polite attention and aggressively obvious indifference. Neither seemed to matter to the Colonel who only needed himself as an audience.

Finally, the Colonel was called away to tend to Bucephalus and offer advice to the jockey before the afternoon match races began. Simon graciously let the Colonel attend to business and turned to search for the main Jockey Club pavilion.

Simon took the moment of peace to observe the crowd and enjoy the ambiance. He hadn't quite realized he'd missed the country until now. Life in Santa Barbara wasn't exactly the cement jungle of Manhattan, but it was still a city. Between the grounds of Grey Hall and his grandfather's estate in Sussex, Simon had spent a fair amount of his youth in the country. Standing here with the familiar and pungent aroma of a stable and trees merely giving way to more trees, he found he missed it.

Just as he began to wonder if perhaps he and Elizabeth should buy a country house somewhere to escape to on occasion, he noticed Doctor Walker in the crowd. The doctor craned his neck, clearly looking for someone. Abruptly, he stopped walking. A short, thick-chested man with shabby clothes, perhaps a day laborer or stevedore, approached him. The doctor did all of the talking. The other man merely nodded.

A voice beside Simon broke him from his silent observation.

“Lost her already?”

Simon turned and saw Eli suddenly at his side, casually leaning against the corral fence. Simon bit back a terse reply. He turned back to look for the doctor, but both he and the other man were gone.

“She's probably in our private tent,” Eli said. “Just before the last turn.”

Simon nodded curtly and started off in the direction indicated, but Eli grabbed his arm as he passed.

“You should be more careful. Someone just might find her.”

Simon glared at Eli's hand and tensed his arm. “I beg your pardon.”

Eli let go and leaned back against the fence, his elbows resting casually on the top rail. “I don't like to tell another man his business—”

“Then don't.”

“But when a fine woman's reputation is at stake, I feel inclined to intervene.”

Simon's jaw set. What in bloody hell was he going on about?

Eli dipped his head forward to speak more softly. “Natchez is a small town. What a man does here is seldom secret and never for long. I would hate to see your beautiful wife become the subject of gossip and ridicule because of
your
indiscretion.”

So Eli had known about his visit to the brothel. Simon had suspected as much when he'd run into them the other day, but had hoped it was just general dislike. That, at least, was mutual. He couldn't possibly explain why he'd been there. His silence though, he knew, was damning.

Simon's jaw clenched tighter. “And I suppose for a price you'll stay silent on the matter?”

Eli shook his head. “You can keep your money. My brother's the one who wants it. I'm merely thinking of your wife.”

Simon clenched his hand into a fist. “Are you?”

Eli started to say something and then smiled and pushed off from the fence. “If she were my wife, I would think of little else.” With that he tipped his hat and disappeared into the crowd.

~~~

Elizabeth was bursting with questions and, well, other things. She knew she shouldn't have had that second glass of sweet tea, but she'd been thirsty and it had been so cool going down. Now, however, she was faced with the modern woman's 19th century nightmare — the outdoor privy.

She shuddered at the thought, but she had little choice. Between the tea and the corset squeezing her bladder to the size of pea, she couldn't wait any longer. She excused herself and got directions from one of the slaves. It seemed the ladies' john was back near the woods. Setting it apart from the rest of the grounds was undoubtedly wise, but it didn't help her situation any. She smiled and casually walked as quickly as she could to a small wooden building discretely hidden behind a small copse of trees at the edge of the woods.

Feeling much better, she started back for the Harpers' tent when a hand clamped down over her mouth and another grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip. The man pulled her back against his chest and dragged her behind the trees. She could smell the alcohol and tobacco on his breath. She struggled against him, but his hands were like iron bands digging into her flesh.

He shook her to stop her fighting and tightened his grip even further. His breath was hot against her neck. Elizabeth felt a fist of panic rise in her belly.

“This is a warning,” he said in a soft, rasping voice.

Elizabeth tried to catch her breath. At least he wasn't going to kill her. You don't warn someone and then kill them, right? She tried to think of a way to break free, to call for help, but he was too strong and her damn clothes weren't made for kicking a man where it counts. She took deep breaths through her nose, but the stench of rotten fish on his hands nearly made her gag.

“You and your husband been asking questions that ain't none of your business,” he said. “Best keep your pretty nose to yourself, if you want to keep it. You understand?”

Elizabeth held still.

Not liking that, he shook her again. “I said, you understand?”

She nodded.

“Good.”

She thought he might let her go then, but he moved his hand up and covered her nose. She couldn't breathe. Instantly, she started to struggle. She twisted in his arms, but he was too strong and the more she struggled the less breath she had. It all happened so quickly.

She felt the darkness start to come. Like a camera shutter closing, the world dimmed to a small circle of light. Sounds of her own struggle were muffled like they were underwater. Her body felt oddly weightless, like she was draining away from herself.

Just as the final curtain of darkness was coming down, she hit the ground. The shock of it brought her around and she gasped for air. Blessedly, it came. She pulled in deep lungfuls of air and the world around her slowly came back into focus. As she regained full consciousness the shock of what had happened hit her. She felt the prickling rise of panic and pushed out a few quick breaths to keep herself under control.

As quickly as she could, she stood. She looked around for the man, but there was no sign of him. Her arm ached and she rubbed it to get the circulation moving. He hadn't meant to kill her, she realized. If he had, she would be really, most sincerely, dead.

She hurried away from the trees and out into the open. No one was around. No one had seen. She started back toward the pavilion.

Her hands trembled and she clasped them again and again to try to stop their shaking. She wiped her mouth trying to rid it of the taste, of the stench of him, and shuddered at the memory. Pulling her handkerchief out, she did her best to rid herself of any evidence of the attack. The last thing she needed was to try to explain what happened to Rose or James. She cleaned her face as best she could and discarded the smelly handkerchief.

Dusting off her dress, she took a few calming breaths before she neared the Harpers' tent and prayed Simon would be there.

He was, thank God. Simon stood at the far side of the tent and listened to James expound on the need for warehouses in Liverpool. He saw Elizabeth enter and smiled. But his smile faded instantly as he sensed something was wrong. Immediately excusing himself from James, he started toward her.

Elizabeth forced a smile. “Do you mind if I steal my husband for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” James said.

Elizabeth wound her arm through Simon's and led him away from the tent.

“What's wrong?” Simon asked.

Once they were well out of earshot Elizabeth stopped and took a deep breath. “First, I could really use a hug.”

Simon frowned, but didn't hesitate to take her into his arms. “What's happened?”

Elizabeth enjoyed the comfort and safety of his arms for a long moment before pulling away. “I was coming back from the bathroom just now and someone grabbed me.”

“What do you mean someone grabbed you?”

“A man, he must have been hiding in that small group of trees waiting for me,” she said looking back toward the copse of trees.

The vein in Simon's neck began to throb and she could see him trying to rein in his anger. He looked toward the trees she'd indicated. “What man? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said.

Simon reached out and grabbed ahold of her arms. She flinched as he inadvertently squeezed her bruise.

Simon immediately released her. “Elizabeth.” His hands hovered over her arms, as if he wanted to hold her, but was afraid to hurt her again. Finally, they fell to his sides and clenched into fists. His voice was low and hard when he spoke again. “What did he do?”

“It's just a bruise,” she said and, seeing he was working himself up with thoughts far worse than what had happened, hastily added, “Really. He just held my arm too tightly. I'm fine.”

His eyes desperately searched hers for the truth and calmed a little when he finally believed she wasn't withholding anything. “Just now, you said?” he asked taking a stride toward the trees.

“Yes, but he's gone. It wasn't a random grab-a-woman sort of thing. It was a warning,” Elizabeth said.

Simon pulled his attention away from the woods. “A warning?”

“He grabbed me and told me to keep my nose to myself. That we were asking questions someone doesn't want asked.”

Simon grunted. “Damn it. Did you see his face? Would you recognize him?”

“No, he was behind me the whole time. He just grabbed me and said to keep out of it and then he was gone.”

“He just walked away?”

Elizabeth hesitated to tell him the last bit of it, but keeping things from him would only be worse in the end. “I sort of passed out a little.”

“You what?” Instinctively, he reached out to her again, but held her elbows gently.

“It was just part of his escape plan, I think. Better than a crack on the head.”

She could see him work through it in his mind, not liking what he saw, but knowing it could have been far worse. He reluctantly nodded. “Yes.”

“So,” Elizabeth said, “that's my news. What have you got?”

Simon shook his head. “Elizabeth—”

“Comes with the territory,” she said, wishing she could actually feel as brave as she sounded. “I'm all right and it means we're asking the right questions.”

Simon started to argue with her, but stopped himself. She knew how hard this sort of thing was for him. It wasn't exactly easy for her either. Being manhandled, threatened and nearly suffocated was not her idea of an ideal picnic. But it meant they were heading in the right direction. They couldn't afford to stop now. She knew Simon's concern for her would trump everything else though, and she stepped forward and put her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating quickly and his chest rising and falling as he struggled with his emotions.

“We're doing the right thing,” she said.

He nodded slowly and then covered her hand with his and brought it to his lips. “You are not leaving my side today. Agreed?”

Elizabeth was more than happy to oblige. She didn't want a repeat performance any more than he did. They started back to the Harpers' tent and Elizabeth noticed Eli had been watching them. He made no attempt to hide the fact and didn't move from his spot leaning against one of the tent poles as they re-entered.

“Elizabeth,” he said with a broad smile that faded quickly as he gave Simon a curt nod. She made a mental note to ask Simon what that was all about later. For now, the first match race was about to get under way. The entire entourage headed out to claim spots in the grandstands for the first series, but Elizabeth hardly cared about the races now.

Chapter Twelve

The Colonel's horse made it through the first two rounds, only to lose in the third. Money was won; money was lost and a pleasant afternoon passed without any more revelations or incidents. The entire party retreated to River Run, just barely beating a powerful spring storm as it rolled in.

Simon slid into bed next to Elizabeth and sighed. It had been a long day, and he felt the tension from his worry over the incident with Elizabeth finally start to fade as he lay down next to her. They went over everything they'd seen and heard that day.

“The women didn't gossip about anyone?” Simon asked. “Something you might have overlooked initially?”

Elizabeth rolled onto her side and shook her head. “Not really. It was all politics and children and then more children. I swear it's like everyone here is a Duggar.”