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“You didn’t raise me at all,” he responded coldly. “And we both know it, so don’t come that with me, old woman. You keep your distance from me and mine.”

Ma Toomes had gone rigid in her seat. She glared at Benedict. “So resentful always!” she burst out. “It was barely more’n a year you was gone from us and that no fault but your own!”

Lizzie felt Benedict stiffen. “It was more than two years I was gone,” he replied in a dangerously quiet voice, and Lizzie felt confused, for surely, he’d told her his prison term had been nine months.

The old woman tossed her head angrily. “Such nonsense! Your Pa fetched you back in the end, and if you’d anything to say, you should have said it at the time and cleared the air.” She glared at him. “Not you, though. No, you never breathed a word to any of us. Just let that hatred fester in your heart till there was no room for nothing else!”

“No room for you, you mean,” he corrected her in a low voice, as his hand shifted from Lizzie’s waist to her hip, clasping her firmly.

Ma Toomes’s eyes flashed. “Oh, yet you’ve room for your stuck-up little bride, haven’t you?” she sneered. “Shunned your own family once you got out so’s you could court her. Far too good to mix with your own flesh and blood, ain’t she? Well, what if I told you she’s no better than she ought to be, Benedict Toomes? What then?” She folded her arms and regarded him with an exuberance that was unpleasant to see.

Benedict reached for the pitcher and poured himself some more beer with a steady hand. “You could tell me she was Satan himself and I’d still take her part over yours,” he answered with a shrug. The old lady’s eyes flashed, but even as she opened her mouth to respond, Benedict interrupted her. “There’s nothing you could say could turn me against her, so don’t even try.”

Something in his tone of voice had both Lizzie and Ma Toomes catching their breath. “I may as well tell you now that I’d believe her word over the evidence of my own eyes,” he finished simply. “So, you may as well save your breath.”

Lizzie turned to stare at him quite flabbergasted by this claim.

“I seen her!” Daphne burst out, no longer able to keep her silence.

“What’s this?” Frank asked, returning with a chair. “What’s to do?”

Daphne pointed an accusing finger at Lizzie, but before she could get her words out, Ma Toomes stopped her. “Hold your tongue, you fool!” she hissed. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

Daphne’s face turned puce. “B-but,” she stammered. “I – ”

“I said quiet!” Ma bit out, whipping around in her seat.

Daphne sprang up from her chair, her fists clenched, nearly overturning the table. Sebastian let out a rumbling growl, leaping to his feet.

“Careful!” Jack cautioned, returning with a second jug of beer. Daphne made a sound of suppressed fury and rushed from the tent.

“Stupid girl!” Ma muttered under her breath.

“What’s got into her?” Frank asked in bewilderment as he sat himself down.

“Pour me a drink, Jack!” Ma demanded, rapping her bony knuckles on the table.

Jack refilled the cups, throwing a puzzled look toward Benedict and Lizzie as he did so. Ma tossed her beer back, wiped her mouth with a grubby mittened hand, and then surged to her feet. She gave a short nod to all present and then marched out of the tent.

“What the hell was that about?” Jack burst out.

When no one spoke, Lizzie drew a deep breath. “Your grandmother was just trying to drive a wedge between Benedict and myself,” she answered calmly, reaching down to pat Sebastian’s neck. “But she did not achieve her aim.”

“Why would she do that?” Frank asked uneasily.

“Same reason she did it to you and Maggie,” Benedict answered reaching for his beer. “Because she likes to have the upper hand.”

“She never tried to get between me and Maggie!” Frank objected, looking thunderstruck.

“Didn’t she?” Benedict remarked, taking a swig of beer.

“No, she didn’t!” Frank insisted. “It was – ” He gazed down into his own drink. “Something else.”

Jack frowned but said nothing, and they only stayed to finish the pitcher before bidding a rather subdued farewell and going their separate ways.

17

“What do you fancy for your supper?” Benedict asked her as they walked across the field in the direction of the campsite.