May 1900
“Whatwillhappennow?”
Elizabeth shivered, hugging her shawl more tightly over her shoulders as she implored her uncle to give some response. Jane, seated beside her, was leaning heavily upon their aunt, and holding a small block from the icehouse to her cheek.
Mr Gardiner thrust his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat and glanced to the colonel, who stood nearby in silent observance. They, along with the sheriff and the mayor, had come at once when Kitty had burst into the mayor’s house screaming for help… but it had not been soon enough.
Elizabeth had been left alone to watch Jake Bryson thrashing and groaning, his blood forever tainting her hands. There had been nothing she could do for him, even after she overcame her fury and revulsion—and, yes, her fear—to examine his wound. His last word had been a curse, and it was her face his eyes fixed upon when they froze forever.
And then, still alone, she had patted Jane’s cheeks and begged her sister to awaken, to not be another tragedy added to this night. Ten minutes passed—long enough for the terror to sink into her heart at whatalmosthappened and for the horror to dawn fully upon her of whatdidhappen.
She clenched her eyes now, wishing she could burn those images away. Wishing she had never left the house, never thought to go after stupid, stupid Lydia. Wishing she had never heard Jake Bryson’s name, and that he were somewhere else; whole and well and entirely unaware of her existence.
It was the colonel who eventually answered Elizabeth’s question, though not without first waiting for her uncle to make some response. “The sheriff has gone to speak with Mr Silas Bryson, Jake’s father, to acquaint him with the situation. I have sent Corporal Denny out to the corrals to bring your father—I thought you would want him near.”
Elizabeth nodded a numb sort of gratitude. “But what of the… am I to be hanged?”
“Of course not, Lizzy!” objected her uncle at once. “It was self-defence, clear and simple. Even the mayor said as much earlier. You are not the first girl Bryson tried to… well, no one will doubt your story.”
The colonel cleared his throat and shifted, looking at the floor.
Elizabeth gave voice to what must have been in his thoughts. “Bryson had no weapon in his hand.”
“True,” her uncle agreed. “It may not have been in his hand, but he was not unarmed. And against a man of his strength, who can blame a woman for seeking to protect herself?”
“His father most certainly will.”
“Come, Lizzy, surely you have nothing to fear,” soothed her aunt. “Kitty and Jane saw it all. Certainly their accounts will clear your name of any suspicion.”
The colonel’s eyes raised from the floor to meet Elizabeth’s, and she saw his lips thin. She blinked, lowered her head, and nodded—he, at least, seemed to grasp something of the precariousness of her position.
“I am afraid that is precisely the trouble, Mrs Gardiner,” he said. “Miss Kitty testified that she never even saw Mr Bryson’s face before she comprehended some danger to her sister and ran for help. Miss Jane’s last memory before being knocked unconscious was of Mr Bryson merely holding an arm around Miss Elizabeth. Neither can pay witness to the moment of crisis.”
“Of course not!” cried Mr Gardiner. “For if they had been there to see, Lizzy would not have been forced to fight him off alone! And what of him striking, nearly killing poor Jane? Is that not proof enough of his vicious proclivities? And the… er, the state of his attire… plain evidence of his intent!”
“I believe Miss Elizabeth will have the sympathy of every reasonable person in town, but who is to say that those in authority will be reasonable? Bryson’s father is a man of some position and authority in the area, from what I gather, and I doubt he will take his son’s death lightly.”
Elizabeth hid her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling. “I never meant to kill him!”
“Of course, you did not, Lizzy,” her aunt crooned. “You were not even facing him! How could you know where your little derringer was pointed?”
The colonel looked uncomfortable again, and he glanced at Elizabeth. “With all due respect, Mrs Gardiner, she fired the weapon. It will not matter if she could not properly see where it was pointed. She is responsible for the result, justified or no.”
“It’s true,” Mr Gardiner lamented. “But we have an understanding about self-defence in this state. If Lizzy’s life or safety were in danger, she had the legal right to protect herself.”
The colonel nodded graciously towards Mr Gardiner. “Let us pray that is sufficient.”
18 November 1900
Matlock, Derbyshire
Dearallofyou,
What a way to address a letter! I would have listed each of you by name, but I would have run out of ink, and no doubt caused some rift by mentioning one person last or another one first. This poor letter is not worth squabbling over. Thus, you are all “dear.”
I hope you received my last letter and the photograph safely. Was not the countess kind in having two copies made? Billy is very much hoping that Uncle will display one of them in the General Store, so everyone may see him in his dapper new suit with that stylish eyepiece, but I believe it best if the photograph is kept discreet. How I wish I had a similar memento of each of you, so I might treasure your dear faces whenever I think of you!
Mary, I was delighted to hear that John Lucas has officially asked to court you. He is a fine fellow, and I hope I shall hear happy news before spring. Kitty and Lydia, I am sorry there has been so little entertainment for you of late. I trust you will receive this before Christmas, so I hope the winter fashion plates I included will be of interest. I wish I could send you some of the sugar mice that are so much favoured here, but Mrs Reynolds did tell me how they are made. I will include the instructions, and perhaps you can amuse yourselves by attempting them.
