Her eyes scanned the length of his bed. The woman was lucky she did not have to earn her living at cards, for every thought rippled over her face. And her face, indeed, had much to say. “You should lie back. You are starting to perspire and look faint again. I can call for the earl if you need to speak with him.”
He permitted himself to droop. “Iamfeeling a mite ill,” he confessed. He hung his head for a few seconds, then carefully rocked back to his original position—no easy feat when his muscles were limp as rubber, and the throbbing dizziness continued to hound his movements. The blankets were a twisted ruin as well.
“Let me help.”
He flinched when she approached and then gaped in wonder as she boldly yanked on the bedding. She tugged it up under his chin, then smoothed it over his chest. And as he stared, a slight glimmer of light caught his notice. He grabbed her hand.
“I... I guess we are married.”
Her brow dipped, and he saw the cords of her neck tighten.
“Oh!” He emitted a dry chuckle—more of a gasp, really. “Do not fear me yet. I am in no condition to impose on you.”
“It is not that,” she whispered. Her hand curled and twisted faintly, as if she were afraid of letting him hold it, but he gently straightened her fingers and traced the dainty ring that caught his notice.
“I never gave this to you. I should have, shouldn’t I? I am glad someone thought of it. May I see it?”
Her lower lip pushed out, and she hesitantly permitted him to lift her hand before his eye.
“A diamond set with amethyst. Well,” he sighed out another bitter laugh, “at least you did not have to buy your own wedding ring.”
She withdrew her hand and shielded it in her lap, her face bowed. “Your family have been very generous and kind to me.”
“That was not my family—not my brother, at least. Reginald would have got you a boxy clunker of heavy gold, or if he especially liked you, perhaps a diamond the size of your thumb.” He snorted weakly and pointed. “This one suits you, how it is both rich and fine like that. It smacks of Darcy’s taste. He helped you, didn’t he?”
Her shoulders lifted, and she nodded.
He smiled, permitting his head to turn back to the ceiling at last. “I knew he would. I am glad I sent you to him.” He started suddenly and tried to twist upright again. “But things must have been fearful for you. What happened?”
She smiled, but it was a broken, tear-threatening sort of look. “If you promise to lie back and rest quietly, I will tell you.”
Chapter 44
Wyoming
June 1900
Threemoreweeksdraggedby, and Elizabeth passed the time on tenterhooks. Even now, she could not walk the streets without drawing glares and occasional insults. Mrs Long and many others had ceased speaking with her, and Mrs Elliot—the widow who lived at the end of town—regularly spat on the ground whenever she passed. Her aunt and uncle at last implored her to stay home and care for their children, rather than working in the store. Rides out to see her father were entirely forbidden, and Elizabeth felt as if she would go mad.
The worst was the fear and dread. Silas Bryson had not been idle, and the town seemed to be holding its collective breath as everyone waited for the U.S. Marshal’s regular visit. “Don’t you worry, ma’am,” the sheriff always assured her—a man who had called her “Lizzy” since her childhood. “The Marshal won’t be any trouble. We’ll all testify in your favour,” he promised.
But they would not, and she knew it. Her “marriage” had mollified some, but only to the degree that now they traded whispers about her behind closed doors rather than in the streets. Jane tried and failed to cheer her, Mary often played her favourite pieces on the piano, and even Billy would stop by frequently with one of his silly magazines to help liven her days. Still, she was a fretful twist of nerves and apprehension.
Then, one day, Marshal Jamison’s bay horse trotted into town. Elizabeth happened to be at the window when he passed by, and such flutterings and spasms overtook her heart as made her understand how fearful she truly was.
“Jane!” she cried from the window. She stood and tried to rush down the stairs but stumbled before she made three paces.
“Lizzy—”UncleGardinerremovedhis hat and huffed a tight breath. He glanced at his wife, who had just come in behind him, and then motioned to a chair. “You had best sit down.”
Elizabeth’s fingers were white in Jane’s, and her eyes were already burning. “Tell me the worst, Uncle.”
“The worst is not come, but I fear it may. Marshal Jamison has gone out to Bryson’s ranch, without the sheriff. I did not know they were old friends.”
Elizabeth finally collapsed into the chair her uncle had suggested a moment before. “Dear heaven,” she breathed. “Then, I am lost!”
Her uncle thinned his lips. “The sheriff rode out there the moment we heard. He should be able to introduce some sense into the conversation. I sent Billy for your father.”
She nodded, her gaze glassy as she stared at the floor. “When will we know?”
