“Why don’t you go and sit in the study with Izzy and Amelia while we move her.” Dominic murmured, waiting only until the ladies moved forward to support Eliza before following the men out of the house.
Eliza ignored the prodding of Amelia and Isobel and remained where she was. Her eyes were fixed on the cart as Jemima’s body was slid on the board on which she lay into the waiting hands of the four men assembled on either side.
Sobs tore from Eliza’s throat as the body of her sister was carried solemnly past her into the house. Grief unlike any she had ever known swept battered her senses and buckled her knees. With a low moan of disbelief she crumpled onto the cold marble and began to rock.
The pain was so physical, it was overwhelming. If she could have run away from it she would have, only she knew that there was no escape from the haze of horrified disbelief that had taken hold. It would remain with her for the rest of her life.
She was oblivious to all attempts to help her stand and move to the study, the thick fog of grief broken only when Edward swept her unconditionally into his arms. Without hesitation he carried her up the long sweeping staircase to the solitude and quiet of her room, placing her onto the bed as though she was made of delicate porcelain before lying beside her and gathering into his arms.
“I’m so sorry.” He murmured, over and over again as she gave in to the pain. She stopped sobbing only briefly and disappeared behind the retiring screen to lose the contents of her stomach. When she didn’t immediately reappear, Edward followed her
and found her staring blankly at the wall, tears pouring silently down her face.
Gently guiding her back towards the bed, he tucked her beneath the covers and simply held her while she battled with the confusing mass of emotions.
Eventually her tears subsided and she slipped into an exhausted doze.
Edward stared blindly out of the window and tried to block out the stark events that had taken place earlier that day.
What happened would remain with him – with all of them - for the rest of his life, and he knew Peter would never recover.
He was eternally grateful Eliza hadn’t gone to the Gaol with them and seen Jemima in her final hours before she was led to the gallows. Or the horrifying moment when Peter had made one final, desperate attempt to prevent her death – and failed.
He wondered if the friendship between Dominic and Peter would ever be the same again, and doubted it. He couldn’t see how any friendship could survive what Dominic had felt the need to do. What they had all felt they had to do.
The events of the morning had far reaching consequences for everyone, not least the woman who now lay dead on the make-shift table in one of the coldest rooms of the house.
They had agreed not to inform Eliza that Jemima had been placed in one of the unused storage rooms at the back of the kitchens. Nobody had the callousness to leave her in the darkness of the cellar having spent the final hours of her life in the dank, fetid and unlit condemned cell. She would remain in the unfurnished room while they found someone to prepare her for the funeral and arrange for the ground to be broken in preparation for her funeral.
Peter had tried to insist on burying her at Willowbrook, but Sebastian had argued that they were all still at considerable risk from Scraggan. They couldn’t run the risk of anything happening that would prevent Jemima’s arrival at a suitable place of rest. It was better for everyone, including Eliza, to get the burial over with as soon as possible.
It was the mention of Eliza that had broken Peter out of his stubborn refusal to give way and he had lapsed into disgruntled silence that had remained throughout the rest of their long journey back to Havistock.
Edward had returned on leaden feet, dreading the inevitable moment when he had to impart the devastating news. It had been as bad as he had envisaged. Her soft keening cry of pain still echoed hauntingly in his ears. His hands had been full with helping the others carry Jemima through the house and it had been an indeterminable age before he had been able to give her the comfort she so desperately needed.
Now he had, he felt so frustratingly helpless at his lack of ability to ease her pain that he wanted to hit something. His thirst for vengeance against Scraggan and his son Rogan, was about equal to Peter’s and wild horses wouldn’t prevent him leaving to bring the lawless criminal down.
Nobody had been unmoved by the performance Jemima had put on for Peter’s benefit, or her calm acceptance of her fate that couldn’t be prevented. He had no doubt that every man there would have been proud to be related to such a remarkable woman. He could only hope that they could bring her justice, and eventually clear her name. Failure to do so would undoubtedly mean failure for the family and that was unconscionable.
Drawing Eliza closer against him, Edward closed his eyes and fell into a troubled sleep, determined more than ever to protect the woman in his arms for the rest of his life.
If only she would let him.
Eliza awoke later that day. In the first few seconds of consciousness returning she was aware of the Edward’s wonderfully comforting embrace and relished the sheer joy of being able to lie with him, before the cold, stark reality of Jemima’s death slammed down on her with brutal force.
“Eliza?” Edward’s soft voice rumbled in her ear.
Suddenly Eliza was so very glad he was there and shuffled around until she was facing him. Her sad eyes met and held his in silent query.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was filled with remorse as he stared solemnly down at her.
“It’s not your fault.” She whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her trembling hand rose to trail the sharp curve of his jaw, the thick patch of morning bristles digging sharply into her sensitive fingertips.
“We tried everything to get a stay of execution so we could try to get her pardoned.” He chose his words carefully.
He didn’t want her to ask too many questions about what happened that morning. Not only did he not want to lie to her, but he knew that despite their relatively short acquaintance Eliza was intuitive enough to pick up any hesitation in him and pester him until she knew everything.
They had all agreed that Eliza was never to learn of the exact events of the morning.