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Lizzie gave a strained smile as the cups were held up solemnly toward her. One was pressed into her own hand. She took a cautious sip. This concoction tasted more of gin than rum.

“And where’s this ’usband of yours taking you on Sunday, if I might be so bold?” the older woman asked. Lizzie felt all eyes present swivel to her. She opened and closed her mouth. Well, really, she thought with surprise, she had no idea! “Hopefully to church,” Lizzie said smartly. When they all continued to gaze at her expectantly, she added slowly. “I believe Mr. Toomes is currently in lodgings. So, he will likely take me along there.”

Mrs. Napp shrugged. “Churching’s all very well,” she said dismissively. “But you’ll want to get established in your new home with your things set up around you.”

What things? thought Lizzie. As of now, she owned a bible and precious little else. She nodded as though she knew what the other woman was talking about.

“That’s a fine punch,” Mrs. Napp said smacking her lips. “Suzy, add a little more nutmeg to the mixture. We’ll eke out another jug before it’s done.” The girls murmured with approval at this idea, and Suzy ran to throw the last of the ingredients into the jug. “I think you said Mr. Toomes was undecided about his current line of business?” Mrs. Napp pried. “’E’ll need to make his mind up sharpish, now he’s got a wife to support. I’m not so sure I’d let my Cindy marry a fellow what hasn’t got an established trade.”

Lucinda preened while Lizzie struggled to quell the wave of uneasiness breaking over her. Really, she knew next to nothing about the man. Recalling he was now her wedded spouse gave her a nasty jar. She glanced down at the brass ring and found her finger was turning green underneath it. Had he been intending to give a brass ring to Betsy? She did not think her cousin would have been pleased with anything but gold. Vaguely, she remembered the flashy engagement ring which had been her cousin’s pride and joy. Maybe it had been a fake? It had been rather large.

Lizzie bit her lip as the thought occurred to her that Benedict Toomes could well be one of those confidence tricksters that you read about in the newspapers. He was good-looking enough, and Lizzie did not think highly of her cousin’s mental faculties. Betsy was a fool for a pretty face and a glib tongue, though she did not think Mr. Toomes was glib exactly. He had no patter of cozening talk to take a body in. Just those disquieting eyes of his that rested on you and made you feel all of a quiver. What if he had up and left her just as he had Betsy?

“’E’s got a trade, Ma,” Eliza piped up from where she sat between two of her sisters. “’E’s a fighter. Miss Lizzie said so. Like wot Mr. Chapman was.”

“So, she did,” Mrs. Napp agreed amiably. “’Spose there’s nuffink to stop him falling back on that by way of making a living. Needs must when the devil drives.”

“’Sides,” Suzy added. “Cindy would take him alright, trade or no! I seen the way she looks at ’im through ’er lashes!” The apprentices greeted this with smothered laughs, but when Lucinda swiveled on her seat and pinned a fierce gaze on them, they cleared their throats and bent back over their sewing.

Mrs. Napp coughed. “Well now, there’s no ’arm in looking. I daresay Miss Lizzie will agree.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek. “There must ha’ been plenty of looking and more besides to make ’im up and switch brides at the last minute!”

Lizzie blushed up to the roots of her hair. It was no good pointing out she never hankered after Benedict Toomes. After all, who would believe her?

“Now don’t you take on, girl!” Mrs. Napp begged her. “There’s no account for you to take on die away airs. All’s fair in love and war, ain’t that what they say? If you managed to lure him away from that pretty cousin of yours, then more power to your elbow!” Lizzie didn’t know where to look. “I daresay you’ll make him a sight more capable wife in the long run,” Mrs. Napp concluded comfortably. “A man like that needs more than a pretty face to keep him on the straight and narrow.” Lizzie looked up sharply. Now just what did Mrs. Napp mean by that? The other woman chuckled. “Oh-ho, I don’t doubt but you’ll have to keep a lively eye on that man of yours.”

Lizzie’s stomach dipped. “Why do you say that?” she croaked.

“Just a certain something about him,” Mrs. Napp said airily. “Wot’s ’ard to pin down.”

Lizzie had a terrible feeling Mrs. Napp spoke nothing but the truth. She went to bed long before the others, for she had not slept a wink the previous night. Thankfully, from the moment she lay down on the borrowed quilt in the backroom, Lizzie slept. She did not wake when the others crept in by two and threes to join her. She did not stir when the lowliest of the apprentices rose to lay the fire. When she did finally wake, she did so suddenly and with a lurch of stark terror. She lay a moment, her heart racing, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as she listened to Mrs. Napp’s gentle snores. What had she done?

Had she really walked up that aisle with Benedict Toomes the previous day? She raised a shaking hand and gazed in horror at the brass ring on her finger. Even in the gray morning light of the bedroom, she could see it. She must have been mad! She had been worn so ragged she had scarcely been able to string her thoughts together or known what she was doing! Married … she gulped. Oh Lizzie, how could you have done anything so imprudent? The sheer weight of her anxiety felt like it was crushing the very air from her lungs.

Bleakly she contemplated the drudgery of the day that lay ahead of her, struggling to set the sleeves into two dozen dress shirts, and shuddered. By the time she lay down on the hard floorboards at night, her eyes were tired with strain and her fingers stiff and cold. Whichever way she looked at it, her life had transformed into a living nightmare. Who could say if she had chosen a better or a worse fate by marrying Benedict Toomes? She shut her eyes with a faint groan. It was Good Friday. She had only two more days before he would return for her. And then what? Hopefully, he would prove a disinterested sort of husband who would set her in his house and then forget all about her!

Her eyes popped open. Had he told her his plans and she forgotten? She could remember nothing, try as she might to recall his words. All she could bring to mind right now was his claiming to be in a tight corner and needing a wife. She frowned. He had said something about fending off his family’s curiosity, but that didn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense in the cold morning light. Was he expecting an imminent visit from them, then? She felt quite at sea about the whole thing.

She must have been operating under some sort of brain fog the day before, which had blunted her thinking faculties. As soon as he had mentioned marriage, she ought to have run in the opposite direction and fast! Too late for that now, my girl, Lizzie told herself bracingly. You’ve made your bed and now you have to lie in it. The thought gave her an unwelcome shiver. A married woman did not generally sleep in her bed alone, she thought with some trepidation.

Lizzie’s fingers tightened on the edge of her blanket. It was unlikely he wanted her for that, she told herself firmly. If so, he would have picked another pretty bride, like Betsy, not the likes of her. Lizzie knew herself to be plain and thin as a rake. She always had been. Men’s gazes did not warm for her, as they did for desirable women. Benedict Toomes’ gaze had never dwelt on her with admiration or pleasure and nor did she want it to!

He was the most alarming man she had ever met, more so even than that brutish specimen who had accosted her mere days ago in the street. After all, Mr. Toomes had sent him sprawling in the dirt with very little effort. So, what did that say about him, then? She knew him to be a convicted criminal for he had served nine months at her majesty’s pleasure in Exeter jail.

In vain, she tried now to remember what reason Betsy had given for his deplorable behavior of brawling in a public place. Her cousin had maintained the incident had been some kind of misunderstanding. How scornfully she had listened to Betsy’s excuses for her intended, she recalled now with uncomfortable clarity. She had thought her words a lot of humbug for an ungovernable nature, and yet here she was, now his legally married wife!

Lizzie took a deep breath. This was no good, all she was doing was scaring herself silly. If Mr. Toomes had viewed her with any sort of illicit desire, he would hardly have left her here to sleep on the floor since their marriage! Certainly, she rallied, he had shown himself to have no interest in consummating their hasty union.

She could see no reason why that should change any time soon. He had married her for convenience. Likely he meant to set her in charge of running his house and keeping it comfortably, she told herself firmly. She could certainly do that, she reflected, so all this panicked conjecture was fruitless and likely pointless. She would be a glorified housekeeper, nothing more.

Feeling a little comforted by such thoughts, she rose, dressed, and took a hasty wash with her sponge which had been soaked in vinegar and water. Lucinda had shown her the trick of it for washing when there was no regular supply of fresh water. She had twenty-four shirts to work on before her new husband fetched her on Sunday. If she intended to meet her obligations she had better set to work at once.

6

By the time Easter Sunday arrived, Lizzie was exhausted and practically dead on her feet. She had barely managed to fulfil her needlework obligations and her eyes felt gritty and tired. When Lucinda shook her awake, she had scarcely managed to snatch three hours sleep.

“You’d best be getting up now, Lizzie,” Lucinda whispered urgently. “He’ll be coming to fetch you shortly. I left you as long as I could.”

Lizzie thanked her and dressed hurriedly in her navy gown. By the time she emerged into the front room, Lucinda had buttered her a piece of bread and made her a cup of black tea. Lizzie accepted both gratefully and took them over to the window.