Her uncle only frowned and looked back to her aunt.
“Lizzy—” Aunt Gardiner came forward and sat down beside her. “Your uncle and I think it would be wise if you took precautions.”
Elizabeth took the handkerchief that Jane pressed into her hand and crushed it—needing to grind out her frustrations more than to wipe away her tears. “Precautions… what exactly do you mean, Aunt?”
“Youcannotmeanthat!”Elizabeth protested. “No! I will not go.”
“Lizzy—” her father passed a weary hand over his eyes. “We are only talking of you going as far as Nebraska just now. It may well be that you will return in a week.”
“Indeed,” Uncle Gardiner concurred. “We all think it probable that this whole affair will be put down and forgotten. But if it is not…”
“My dearest girl.” Mr Bennet patted his daughter’s hand and then kissed her cheek, his own eyes moist. “I could not bear to part with you, but if I must, I had rather you went to your husband than the noose.”
“But you know how things are! Richard only married me on a whim. Surely, he does not expect me to take a steamer from New York to South Africa.”
“Would he have done the same for any other girl in town? No, my child. He fancies you, and he is a good enough man to protect you. You will be safe—you will even have a good life if you go to him.”
“Papa, be sensible. If I were to leave town now, just when the Marshal arrives, would that not be nearly an admission of guilt?”
Her father shrugged and glanced over at her uncle. “You have spoken of taking a teaching position, have you not? How is anyone to know you did not simply take a position somewhere?”
“It is not that simple, and you know it. Everyone in town would talk of me going. And how should I even do it? The train is already gone, and I cannot believe you would let me go alone—not after everything!”
“I’m going with you, Lizzy,” Jane announced.
She turned to her sister in astonishment. “Why, Jane, you sound as if you had planned this already.”
Jane hesitantly met their father’s and uncle’s eyes. “We did. We all did, Lizzy. Billy is coming with us, too.”
Elizabeth fell silent and stared at her family. Her objections were useless. Through blurred eyes, she saw her father bow his head and shuffle out of the room to call her mother… to bid her farewell.
MrBennetdrovethemout of town that afternoon in Mr Gardiner’s supply wagon, with the three passengers concealed under canvas until they were beyond the reach of prying eyes. He took the road out to the corrals, but then kept going until they reached Elk Mountain, some ten miles in the wrong direction if they wished to go to Nebraska. They arrived late, and Billy, for once, proved himself useful in securing lodgings for the night.
“Take the stage to Laramie in the morning,” her father instructed. “From there, you can catch the train east. Your uncle will send a telegram to a Mr Austen in Sidney. Billy knows all about it, but you may have to remind him of the name he is to use.”
Elizabeth sniffed. “And what is it to say?”
Her father set his mouth grimly. “Either he is ordering a shipment of ‘lace,’ or he has decided against purchasing it.”
Elizabeth nodded jerkily, trying to maintain a stoic front, but when her father squeezed her hand, she broke. “Papa…”
He shuddered in a sob of his own and placed a hand over her head. “My Lizzy. My dearest girl!” He turned next to Jane and, in an uncharacteristic display of paternal affection, drew them both to him for a long, tender embrace. “I pray you shall not be taken from me forever!”
He drove away shortly after that, never even looking over his shoulder. Elizabeth watched him from the steps of their hotel, her heart shaken and bleeding. Jane clasped her hand until the wagon could no longer be heard up the street, then they turned to face one another.
“At least I still have you, my dearest Jane!”
“Oh! I cannot think this is anything of much duration,” Jane declared. “Surely, we will be back in Uncle’s house in only a few days, and everything will return to normal.”
Elizabeth permitted her gaze to stray, back up the street after her father. “You did not see… I have never known our father to look so afraid. Even when we lost the ranch, he made light of it, laughed it off and waxed philosophical. But this time—”
“He looks ten years older,” Jane finished for her. “Yes, Lizzy, I saw.”
Theywerethreedaysin Sidney, Nebraska, before the telegram came. Billy had gone to the telegrapher’s office each afternoon, while Elizabeth and Jane remained entirely indoors. Elizabeth’s one consolation was the little cache of treasures she discovered when she opened her trunk. A lace handkerchief from her mother; a few of her hair ribbons, no doubt returned by a remorseful Lydia; a handful of hard candies twisted into a silken clutch by her aunt; but the best of all was her father’s copy of Cowper’s poetry.
She spent most of her hours those first days huddled tensely on the hotel bed, her knees bent up, and her head bowed over that book of poems. She was thus engaged when Billy rushed into their room that June afternoon, breathlessly waving his telegram. “It’s bad, Lizzy.”
She tumbled from the bed, snatching at the telegram. It was just as her father had said—a dry bit of commercial-looking correspondence, but the message was clear. If she returned, she would be hanged for murder.
