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And the most wonderful part . . . Thomas would never know.
The sun rose with an exquisite overture of delicate lavender. Eliza slipped into her day-dress of the same hue, and twisted her long hair into a bun, pinned it, then moved her cap into place. She pinched her cheeks and brushed the sleep from her eyes.
Though to own the truth, sleep had evaded her thanks to the irritating nervousness that swirled in her stomach. But, despite her restless night, she felt fresh as a spring morning.
Over the past two days, her sly scheme to attend the rally had taken root in her conscience. This particular morning was the first time since the day of the “recovery celebration” that she actually smiled with true zeal. Tonight’s rally would prove to be a salve to her aching spirits and allow her to focus on what really mattered: finding the truth of what Father believed, and why.
As mid-day approached, those same nervous feathers of anticipation that lined her stomach, morphed into tumbling rocks. She busied herself with chores and chatted with Kitty about the latest Shakespeare play she’d been re-reading, but such activities did little for her nervous anxiety.
Thomas regarded her with little less than a nod as he passed by through the day, which deepened the chasm in her chest. She pretended not to care.
Minutes stretched to hours.
Finally, the time to act approached and her careful plan took form.
“Kitty,” she said, “I’d love to indulge in some of your delicious apple tansy tonight. Would you be so kind as to make it for us, dearest?”
Kitty closed her book and stretched her arms above her head. “I’d be happy to, Liza. How did you know I was in the mood to cook?”
Giggling, Eliza winked. “Aren’t you always in the mood to cook?”
“You know me too well.” Kitty pushed up from her seat and hummed on her way to the kitchen. “Besides, on these cold nights I’m always looking for a reason to stay close to the warm kitchen fire.”
Eliza buzzed from head-to-toe.
Kitty will be busy and out of sight. Now for Thomas.
Through the day, Eliza had secretly removed one log at a time from the large pile that Thomas had brought in that morning, and stashed them in the empty chest that rested near the hearth.
“Thomas?” she called, exhorting herself to sound relaxed.
He entered the room, an emotionless expression in his handsome features. Eliza sighed and stamped out the hope she’d born in her heart. If only he’d looked at her with at least a hint of a smile.
“We’re out of wood again it seems,” she said, pointing to the vacant wall near the fire.
Thomas shot a glance toward the once towering pile of logs. “What happened? I chopped an enormous pile this morning.”
A tinge of mirth sounded in his voice and Eliza allowed a grin to twitch at her mouth.
He moved his head and looked at her, a tiny sparkle glittering in his eyes. How she wished he would come close to her and place his hands around her just as he had the night of the reading. But she resigned herself to the truth: he never would.
Eliza cleared her throat as she remembered her purpose in calling him. “It’s been so cold, we’re burning more wood these days.”
A smile lifted one side of his mouth, which in turn lifted her drooping spirit. “I’ll go chop some more.” He moved toward the back door without another glance and a blast of frigid air let Eliza know he’d gone outside.
The well-known rhythmic chopping ensued thereafter and Eliza flitted upstairs. She reached under her bed and pulled out her disguise. Thomas’s extra pair of breeches—which she’d taken from the bottom of the chest—were far too large. Using a sturdy piece of twine, she secured the fabric around her waist, praying it would stay in place. Next came an old shirt and jacket, as well as woolen stockings and a long brown scarf all topped with a heavy black greatcoat.
She took only a second to survey her appearance, pulling her posture back and grinning at her reflection. The clothing hung on her small frame—the greatcoat falling practically to her feet—but there was nothing she could do about it. At least she would be warm.
At that moment her nerves began a rally of their own. What if she was caught? What would Thomas say if he knew she’d gone? What if she put them all at risk? Was this worth it?
She paused, wrapping the scarf around her head. Maybe this is a fool’s errand.
A small voice of warning echoed in her mind, but she ignored it. With such a grand disguise, no one would ever recognize her. There was nothing to be worried over. Besides, she would only stay a few minutes—just long enough to absorb the scene and listen to Nathaniel’s speech, then she would be home.
She lodged the tricorne she’d swiped on top of her head, peeked out the door of her room, and listened.
Not a sound.
