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“She didn’t sleep in the wagon with you last night, did she?”

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“Well, no, but – ”

“There you are, then. She’ll be halfway to Shropshire by now. Probably hitched a ride on a hay wagon. She won’t be coming back.”

Daphne was clearly flummoxed by this news. “She would have told me!” she rallied.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Lizzie replied with a quiet firmness which seemed to take the air out of the other woman’s sails.

Daphne’s shoulders slumped. “What about me?” she demanded aggressively. “What am I supposed to do now? You tell me that, my fine lady!”

Lizzie regarded her a moment in heavy silence. “Is there any way that you and Maggie could make up your differences?” she asked wearily. After all, Daphne was very good at drawing in the spectators to the boxing tent, and Lizzie had a sneaking suspicion Maggie would be just as useless at that as she was.

“Hardly!” Daphne scoffed. “You know what my old mum told her. What I let her believe about her husband and me carrying on,” she muttered angrily. “Soon as Frank finds out, I’ll be out on me ear!”

“Could you join your mother and Pa Toomes wherever they’ve gone?” Lizzie suggested. “At the seaside.”

“What? Just roll up there, another mouth to feed after they told me they’d handed Frank to me like a ripe plum? Oh, yes, vastly pleased to see me, they’d be!” she said bitterly.

“Well, realistically, what are your choices?” Lizzie asked.

Daphne rested her chin on her hands a moment, sunk in thought. “I reckon I’m due some reparation for the past year I’ve spent skivvying for this family,” she muttered sulkily. “Threw a good number of punters their way too, I did. And let me tell you, before Benedict returned to the fold, they weren’t putting half as good a showing as they are now! Scraping the barrel they was, some days.”

“I can well believe it,” Lizzie admitted. “But I don’t have any money to give to you.”

Daphne tapped a finger against her chin. “What if you was to help me now?” she suggested boldly. “What if we was to hitch up that wagon that me and Ma been sharing to one of the cobs, and I showed a clean pair of heels before the menfolk returned?”

Lizzie considered. Perhaps, all told, it would be for the best. An ugly scene was sure to ensue once Frank’s wife returned armed with the truth. And Pa Toomes was the one who had devised the scheme to get rid of his daughter-in-law. In some lights, Daphne could be seen as something of a pawn, simply trying to get by in life.

“Very well,” she responded after a moment’s consideration.

Daphne blinked. “You’re a cool one, ain’t you?” she marveled. “I half feel sorry for the poor bugger what falls afoul of you.” She dropped her hand from her neck, and Lizzie saw it was showing some redness. There would be nasty bruising on the morrow.

“We had better not delay,” Lizzie said briskly. “If we pack up your things and get you on the road, Jack and Frank will think you and Ma departed together. That way they won’t kick up a fuss about the missing horse and wagon.”

Daphne nodded and clambered to her feet. Once there, she stuck down a hand to Lizzie who took it, for she felt a little dizzy, clambering to her feet. “Sebastian,” she called looking around. He bounded forward with his tongue lolling out, and Lizzie heard Daphne’s sharply indrawn breath. “Here, boy.”

Twenty minutes later, Lizzie and Sebastian watched the wagon pull out onto the track and head out toward the road. Daphne turned in the seat and waved. “No offence,” she cried. “But I hope to God our paths never cross again, Lizzie Toomes.”

Lizzie nodded. “Good luck to you, Daphne!” she called, and then turned and headed for their own wagon.

Lizzie felt worn out and fed up. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” she said to Sebastian as she gathered sticks for the fire. Deep down she knew all right. Benedict would be looking for her in the main arena. For the life of her, Lizzie could not muster the energy to return there now. It had been a long day, and she just wanted to curl up in front of the fire and nurse her wounds.

“I don’t feel guilty at all,” she insisted as Sebastian continued to gaze at her expectantly. Grabbing him a bone out of the sack, she threw it under the wagon and set about lighting the fire. Once it was done, she fetched herself a blanket and wrapped it about her head and shoulders, hoping the growing shadows and the folds of the cloth would hide her swollen eye.

I saw deeds to a respectable house … Yet you, he sees fit to drag from one immoral cesspit to another. Lizzie closed her eyes as she remembered her uncle’s words. When first she’d married Benedict and seen the wagon, she had assumed this had been his home. It seemed now that was not the case at all.

Or was it? She pulled her blanket about her, feeling more and more confused. Maybe he had lied to the Andersons and then tired of all the subterfuge and that was why he had broken things off with Betsy? Certainly, her cousin would not have lasted more than twenty-four hours in this life. Then again, maybe if Benedict had married Betsy, he would not have expected her to live this life at all. Her mouth twisted. There was no ‘maybe’ about it.

To her astonishment, she felt the tear running down her cheek and angrily swiped it away. She certainly wasn’t going to sit here crying about the fact her husband might had deceived her.

A heavy footfall had Sebastian starting up from under the wagon and Lizzie half turning in her seat.

“There you are!” Benedict exclaimed. “I’ve been twice around the field looking for you! What made you come back here without me?” He surveyed her bundled form with concern and crouched down before her. “Feeling ill?” His hand was at her brow before she could answer.

“I’m not ill.”