The tower had fallen. And it had fallen by her hand.
Eliza covered Gabriel’s body with her own and wept.
Clarence drew back the bed curtain with a squeaking rasp. Gabriel lay sallow and drawn on the white mattress, his eyes flickering beneath purple-veined lids. She reached out to stroke his stubbled cheek, tears coursing down her face.
“He’s sustained a severe concussion and formidable damage to his lungs, I’m afraid. He may not survive. The heart often tires in situations like this. The next few hours will tell it.”
Eliza sank into the chair next to the hospital bed, cupping her forehead in her hands. “He has to live. He has to.”
“He was in a state of near starvation and dehydration, Eliza. Do you happen to know why?” Clarence was studying her with a mixture of empathy and curiosity as he blinked behind his owlish spectacles.
“He’d been under the weather for some time. Not eating much. I thought it was the flu. We’d just returned from London after Lord Eastleigh’s funeral when he fell ill.”
“Right. Could be influenza, certainly. I’d like to keep you overnight as well. You’ve been under immense strain. I’m concerned about a miscarriage. I’ll bring a cot and a fresh gown.”
Eliza cradled her belly. She couldn’t miscarry. Not after all she’d come through. A rush of unexpected sympathy went through her, thinking of her own mother. How many times had Maman worried over her own babies, hoping that each would be born healthy and alive, just as she was doing right now? Eliza felt forgiveness grow within her. Hadn’t her mother loved her like this, once? Perhaps she’d just not known how to show it. Perhaps ... she’d done the best she could. “You’re going to come through this, little one. And so is your papa. We both love you, so much.” The baby fluttered in response.
Clarence wheeled in a folded army cot and handed her a clean cotton robe. “I’ll be in to check on you and his lordship every hour. I can give you a mild sedative if you’d like.”
Eliza cast a furtive glance toward Gabriel’s sleeping form. “No thank you, Doctor. I think I only want to rest my eyes.”
Clarence turned with a crisp nod, closing the door to the ward with a gentle click.
As there were no other patients in the room, Eliza stripped down to her camisole and drawers. She pulled on the clean dressing gown andclosed it over her aching breasts, then crawled beneath the cool sheets. Every muscle and joint in her body felt like a lead weight had been tied round it. She turned in the narrow cot and watched the shallow rise and fall of her husband’s chest until morning broke.
Gabriel. Ada’s warrior. Honest and true.
Two days later, he still slept.
Eliza had only broken her vigil to go to the washroom or take the air for a few moments away from the sterile confinement of the hospital ward. Sarah had visited the morning after the fire, dressed in cheerful scarlet wool. She’d brought Eliza a change of clothing and a tin of her favorite tea biscuits, as well as news of Polly’s elopement, which had brightened Eliza’s mood.
After she dressed in Sarah’s borrowed gown and washed the soot from her face and hands, they went out to the sun-filled hospital courtyard. Sarah took Eliza’s hair down and gently began combing through it with her fingers. “What happened, darling?” she asked. “How did the fire start?”
Eliza flinched. “I’m not sure. I smelled smoke, and it roused me from my bed. I went to wake Malcolm, but he was locked in his rooms. I had to kick down the door.”
Sarah dropped the hank of hair she was untangling. She came around and knelt at Eliza’s knee, fixing her with meltingly soft eyes. “Look. You don’t have to lie to me, Eliza. I know more than you think. Malcolm’s dead, isn’t he? It’s Gabriel in that bed. I’d stake my life on it.”
Eliza’s stomach flip-flopped.
Sarah reached for Eliza’s hand. “I’ve known something was amiss ever since my party last summer, right after you’d wed. Remember how he mentioned the girl with the flaxen hair at the ball in Somerset when we were sixteen? Malcolm wasn’t there. But Gabriel was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eliza asked.
Sarah gave a mournful smile. “I was angry at him, at first. I wanted to broach the subject with you—I just didn’t know how. And then, after the séance, I felt you probably knew, and were party to it, and I couldn’t quite reconcile how I felt about that. Still, as your friend, I should have come to you sooner. I’m so sorry, love. Can you forgive me?”
Eliza stroked her thumb over the roundness of Sarah’s cheek. “It wasn’t your fault. You were caught out, just like I was. I’m still working through my feelings as well. I don’t have all the answers yet. I’m not sure I ever will.”
Sarah shook her head. “They wouldn’t have pulled it off for so long for any frivolous reason. There had to be some rationale behind it. Gabriel didn’t—doesn’t—like lying. Not as a rule.”
“I wonder if it was because Malcolm had syphilis.”
Concern widened Sarah’s eyes. “Oh no. You’re not infected, I hope?”
“No. I don’t think so. Malcolm and I never lay together. I thought it was him, but it was always Gabriel in my bed.” Eliza searched Sarah’s round, honest eyes. “Do you think he loves me, Sarah? Can I trust him not to lie again, even after all this?”
Sarah’s smile spread across her entire face. “Oh, darling, he adores you. Our Gabriel has a true heart. Believe that.”
Eliza wanted to believe it. She wanted to try to understand the story behind their deception. All of it. She wanted to try to forgive and move forward. To trust again. Perhaps they could come to some sort of accord, at least for the sake of their child.
