AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sarah was dragging her feet.
She stopped outside an old wooden gate, took a deep breath, then pushed it open. Miriam followed immediately after her, and Daniel caught up with them. They walked across the grass and towards the front door of a cottage, and a woman in a plain brown dress opened the door and came out onto the step. She looked hard at Sarah, then shifted her gaze to Daniel, then to Miriam.
‘It’s all right, Mrs Wilson,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘They are friends, and have come to help. Where is my mother?’
Mrs Wilson turned and looked into the passage behind her. Slowly, another figure emerged. It was a woman of medium height and very slender build. She looked tired and frightened, and her skin was very pale. Daniel knew who it must be because of her jet-black hair and eyes so dark they seemed to be hollows in her head. Even though their colouring was so different, there were echoes of Sarah in the bones of her face, the shape of her mouth, even the delicacy of her hands. And the recognition between them no one could have missed.
‘Mother, they worked out that you are alive, and these people are here to help you . . . help us. We don’t have a choice any more.’ Sarah’s voice was strained as if her throat were parched.
Daniel could feel her fear as if it were his own.
Miriam stepped forward. ‘Ebony.’ She could not now call her Mrs Graves! ‘There is only one way forward for any of us. You cannot let him hang. Sarah cannot. It would haunt her the rest of her life, even if she got away with it. Don’t make her do this.’
Daniel looked from Ebony to Sarah and saw the desperation in Sarah’s face. Then he looked at Ebony again, as her shoulders sagged and all the will drained out of her.
Sarah saw it, too. ‘Don’t . . .’ she began, and then stopped.
Ebony turned to Daniel. ‘What do you want me to do?’ It was a question, not a surrender. She was not yet giving him anything.
Again, it was Miriam who answered. ‘Let us go inside, if Mrs Wilson will be gracious enough? I’m a doctor. I may be able to prove the ill use you have been subject to, and Sarah also.’
‘Broken bones heal in time,’ Ebony said bitterly. ‘They ache in the cold and wet, but you can’t see that. And anyway, a man may beat his wife. It’s not against the law. Or his child. That’s not illegal either.’
‘But you are not his wife,’ Miriam pointed out.
Ebony flinched. ‘I thought I was,’ she said bitterly.
‘He can go to prison for bigamy,’ Daniel spoke for the first time. ‘As much as seven years. A lot can happen in that time. And Winifred will not be his heir. I don’t know what may be said, but for now we must stop his being hanged. That must be done now, or the rope will be around your neck, and Sarah’s, for the rest of your lives. Arthur’s too, if he knew about it.’ He had a sudden thought. ‘And Falthorne’s, if he helped you. He did, didn’t he? Can you let this weigh on his soul for the rest of his life? And it will!’
Ebony put up her hands to cover her face. Her shoulders were rigid, but she did not weep. Perhaps she was exhausted beyond even that. She looked cornered, and too tired to fight any more. But neither would she yield.
‘Mr Graves is still in prison,’ Daniel told her softly ‘You can safely come home. Miriam will take you to a machine that she has that can show pictures, through your skin, to tell if the bones were broken, and prove you were beaten. Scars, too. It can even prove they happened over a period of time.’
Ebony put her hands down and stared at him in disbelief.
‘There is a lot we can do,’ he hurried on. ‘But it has to be done carefully, and quickly. It is not too late to appeal, and if Mr Graves is executed we will all be guilty of his murder.’
‘We have to go back to him?’ She spoke in low, grating voice; it was all she could do not to refuse.
‘No. Back to the house, your house. He’s in prison, and I will do everything possible to see that he is charged and found guilty of bigamy. But you will have to answer for not coming forward and saying you were alive.’ He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was appallingly difficult to say, but it was necessary. To put it off would be dishonest, and lose her trust irrevocably.
‘And you’ll have to testify as to who Winifred was, and how she died,’ he went on. ‘And that you deliberately disfigured her so she would be mistaken for you . . . knowing that Russell Graves could very well be hanged for it.’
‘Will they send me to prison? What about Sarah and Arthur? They knew nothing about it at all!’
Daniel would have known from the timbre of her voice, the fear in her eyes that she was lying. He did not need Sarah’s admission. He preferred not to know about Arthur.
‘Ebony, Sarah helped you—’
‘No! Sarah knew nothing about it!’ Her voice was shrill and she shook her head vigorously.
‘You used silk, and linseed oil, from Arthur’s paint supplies—’
She looked at Sarah, and then forced herself to look at Daniel again. ‘No!’
‘Yes, you did,’ Miriam insisted. Her voice was steady and calm. Ebony would not have heard the pain in it, but Daniel did. ‘She was dead. You didn’t hurt her. You just disguised her as yourself. You put your clothes on her. And her clothes in your wardrobe. It was a way for you to escape at last.’
‘Sarah didn’t . . .’
