Chapter 24: Beyond Silence
Elizabeth Lucas passed by the closed door of her father's study, trying to figure out a reason to go inside. She heard voices speaking in hushed tones, a man and a woman. It was Bertha Denning in there with her father, she just knew it. The woman was relentless, a harlot! Elizabeth's parents had given Bertha a home and work despite her relations to a criminal and she repaid them by attempting to tear the family apart. Elizabeth could not see that happen, her father was a good and honorable man, whose only sin was being corrupted by a witch.
She passed by the door once more and stopped, facing it like she would an enemy. She thought about barging in there, but her husband had stressed discretion. Perhaps that was because he suspected that her father did not like him, and that was possibly the case, but her father loved her and would surely not be cross with her for simply wanting to spend time with him.
Would he?
I just need to go inside and find something—anything—that will help me prove to him that Bertha Denning is a villain. If he cannot see it in her then I must show him.
But what proof would there be in there that that woman had not already seen for herself? Elizabeth knew it was a stretch but it was a start, and Sebastian had told her that any start was a good one, one way or the other. She trusted her husband's words, but still she hoped they didn't fail her now.
"Just knock, Lizzy," she whispered to herself. "He will let you in, he is your father. He loves you. That Bertha woman will leave the moment you walk in, I am sure of it. She knows who is more important."
After repeating that word for word a few more times, Elizabeth finally mustered the courage to knock on her father's door. She stood back, hands folded daintily in front of her, and her face sporting the blissful smile that she knew would convince him that her intentions were entirely innocent. Just a daughter, a loving daughter, coming to visit her father whom she loved so much.
"Father?" She knocked on the door again. "Father, it's Elizabeth. Are you in there?"
A pause, then she heard movement and hushed whispers. She wondered if her father knew how thin the walls were in their old home, but it was likely he did not, otherwise he would have lowered his voice even more while trying to force his mistress out of the study.
"... Cannot see you like this, Bertha..."
"Do not rush me!"
"Hurry, woman, get out!"
"I'm trying!"
Elizabeth stood there, trying not to seethe at the conversation they were trying to hide from her. They spoke like a married couple, didn't they? Her father had no respect for her mother, for their union! What was so special about this penniless trollop that he was willing to throw away years and years of marriage? He preached law and order, honor and justice! Why was he going against it now?
I am going to ruin that woman. I am going to destroy her. I can do this. I can protect my family.
The door opened and Bertha came rushing out, dressed in her full maid's garb, which was obviously staged so that she would not suspect anything. The woman did not make eye contact with Elizabeth, she did not even curtsey. That was not going to do. Bertha was not going to disrespect her in her father's home.
"Bertha, come back here."
The woman paused, frozen still. She did not move for quite some time, and that angered Elizabeth a great deal.
"Right now, Bertha."
The woman still did not move. Elizabeth glanced into her father's study and saw the man paying no attention at all, as he was busy shuffling the papers about on his desk.
Elizabeth focused her attention back on the maid. She did not want to sound cross, but Bertha was going to show her respect. "Bertha, I will not ask you again. Come back here."
Bertha turned to look at her and, despite the pitiful look on her face, Elizabeth saw the glint of amusement in her eyes, and all it did was ignite her anger. She approached her slowly, making time stretch out to fit a million years.
Elizabeth stepped forward, wishing she was taller so she could look down on the woman, but standing at a similar length would do. "Were you raised by wolves, Bertha? Or has your recent status as the local whore made you immune to common decency?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am?"
"Do not act stupid around me," Elizabeth whispered. "You will show me respect, or I will have you sacked."
Bertha did not even bother hiding her amusement then. "Ma'am, all due respect—"
"Stop talking," Elizabeth hissed. "Curtsey to me, Bertha, as you should to a woman of higher standing than you. Then turn around and walk away with your head bowed like the lowly, penniless, useless servant that you are."
Bertha laughed. "You're joking!" She must have seen the look on Elizabeth's face, because she sighed. "Very well." She curtsied.
"Sloppy," Elizabeth scoffed. "Pathetic. Horrid. Disgusting. Now that I am done describing you, I would call your curtsey dismal and an eyesore at best. Now get out of my sight, and do not show yourself to me ever again."
Bertha looked like she was holding back her own anger with the way she clenched her jaw and glared at Elizabeth. "You do not know what you are dealing with."
"Oh, is that meant to scare me? Because you think you have my father wrapped in your little hand? Don't be stupid. You will never beat me, Bertha," Elizabeth grinned. "You do not scare me. You are nothing but a useless trollop. I will always take precedence over you in my father's eyes, you would be wise to remember that," she waved her off. "Go now, little maid. Get out of my sight."
Bertha looked like she was going to saw something in retaliation, but saw that she had lost this fight so she turned to walk away.
"Head down, look at the floor," Elizabeth said. "Do as I say, servant."
Bertha's back stiffened. Elizabeth braced herself for confrontation, but it did not happen. Instead, Bertha bowed her head, as Elizabeth had told her, and stormed away, stomping her feet like a wild bull.
Satisfied, Elizabeth turned to walk into her father's study, shutting the door behind her. Miraculously, he seemed to miss the entire encounter, as he was busy shifting through his papers. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to see her standing there.
Eventually, he did. "Darling, how long have you been there?"
"Just for a moment," Elizabeth replied.
"Please," her father gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit down. Would you like some tea?"
Elizabeth shook her head, glancing around the study for anything that stood out. "N-no, I had some at home before I came here. Where is mother?"
"She is at the market," her father looked down at his papers again. "She should be home soon... Blast..."
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes, of course it is, dear, it's just... Damn... Excuse me," he shook his head. "No, this is not right."
"Is there anything that I can help with?" Elizabeth asked while trying desperately to catch anything in her father's papers. There had to be something she could use against Bertha, anything! The woman had to have something over her father, or he would not have been so easily swayed by her lust. She put a spell on him, or blackmailed him! Either way, Elizabeth was going to find out. Her husband had said to be thorough and that a woman like Bertha was likely to have covered her tracks. Well, Elizabeth was going to uncover them, by god. She wasn't going to let that woman win.
"Father," she cleared her throat, "truly, you should keep a more organized study."
"I haven't the time, darling."
"But the maid was just in here, no?" Elizabeth asked. "What was she doing in here if not to clean?"
Her father paused for a moment and looked up at her. "Why are you here, Elizabeth? What do you need?"
Elizabeth frowned. "I wanted only to spend some time with my father, I have not seen you in so long."
"You're a married woman now, darling, you haven't time for your old father," he grinned but it was clearly forced, like the ones Elizabeth sported whenever Sebastian's troupe of friends came about their home. "Where is your husband?"
Elizabeth stiffened, wondering if she should tell her father. But why not? What sort of quarrel was there between her husband and father other than the normal father and son in law squabble?
"He's at the Quincy estate," she informed him. "With Robert Quincy, that fellow from Derbyshire, and a man who claims to have traveled from Clayton Island to pay his respects to Mrs. Boatwright."
Her father frowned. "What man from Clayton Island?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "I do not know his name, he has only been here a day or so, word has not spread around quite yet. He keeps to himself, hardly ever making himself known socially."
"Hmmm..." Her father looked back down and shook his head. "Darling, I am afraid that I am very busy today. Perhaps come back at another time and... Damn!" He stood and cursed foully. "Wait here, Elizabeth, I won' be long."
Her father stormed out of the room, leaving Elizabeth sitting there, confused. Did he want her to stay or go? Such a strange man her father was sometimes, like his head was not in the right place. Why would it be, after his announcement all those days ago? Elizabeth was not sure if she believed that Lucy Quincy was the woman who murdered James Boatwright. She was no lady, by any means, and not worthy of the standing she claimed due to her status as a bastard, but Elizabeth hardly thought her capable of murder.
Was it Bertha feeding her father those lies to forward her agenda? Her brother died because of the affair he had had with Abigail Quincy that had produced Lucy. She had motive, as her father would say. A reason.
Dare I?
Elizabeth glanced over her father's desk, the scattered papers that may or may not held the answer she needed. Her father had left his office in such a state with her sitting there, alone, because he did not think she would sift through his work. He did not think her capable of putting her nose in where it didn't belong. Elizabeth was not usually that sort of woman, as it was highly improper, but her family's reputation was at stake. She saw the way her father had so quickly destroyed the reputation of the formerly beloved Quincy family, what if someone saw fit to do the same to theirs?
But what if he comes back?
Elizabeth stood slowly, keeping her ears peeled for the sound of rushed footsteps. Her father's feet often landed heavy on the wooden floors, causing a significant 'thud' that could be heard from the other end of the vast hallways. She would be able to hear him approaching. She just had to work fast.
Father, I am so sorry, but I cannot let that woman ruin this family.
Elizabeth slowly stepped around her father's desk and glanced over his papers. She could not make a head nor tail of what was being told to her in the rushed script, but the dates said enough. 1823, the year of the murders. What was her father doing with those if he had already exposed the Quincy family?
What was he hiding?
Elizabeth slowly sifted through the papers, catching names, facts, and any small snippet of information that she could find. Her father hated the Quincy family and often felt that their status was undeserving, which had so publically denounced. But if Abigail Quincy was already ousted, as well as Lucy, what else was left?
Who else was left? Magistrate Quincy?
What could the man have possibly done? Was she over thinking it?
Elizabeth was ready to give up and come back when there was no threat of her being caught, but just then she pushed aside a stack of court orders and right there, under the pile, was a list written in her father's handwriting, with the date set as 1842.
1842... That was just last year! And what were these names?
Elizabeth barely had time to focus in on the scrawled handwriting when she heard her father's footsteps returning. Quickly, she folded the list and tucked it into her blouse, then she returned the papers back to how she remembered them being laid out, then she hurried back around the desk and sat down, folding her hands on her lap like a proper lady.
Lord, I beg you, let this list be of use!
"Apologies, darling, I had a mess to sort out," her father sat back down across from her. "Now what were we discussing?"
Elizabeth felt her palms break out in nervous sweat, feeling the paper burn a hole in her blouse. She needed to make her escape before her discovered her treachery.
"Elizabeth?"
"I-I do not remember," she said. "Sorry, father, I am suddenly feeling quite faint. I think I shall go home and rest."
She stood, as did her father. "Are you ill?" he asked.
"No, no!" She shook her head. "Just tired is all. Do not worry about me."
"What other job is there for a father?" He smiled.
I do not know, perhaps you can tell me?
"Good day, father," she curtsied quickly and turned to leave.
She felt her father's eyes staring at her as she hurried out of his study and down the hall. She needed to get home and show the list to her husband so they could decipher it together and see if it was useful in bringing Bertha down. Firstly, of course, she needed to get out of her father's home so he did not catch her.
Elizabeth got into her coach and, when the door was shut behind her, Elizabeth pulled out the list and quickly unfolded it in on her lap.
"Quincy." She whispered, as she read over the names. "John, Abigail, Robert, Lucy, Lydia. Denning. Arthur and Bertha?" Why was Bertha's name on the list? "Boatwright... George, Mary... James?" She felt her heart racing. "Boatwright Maid... What maid? Father, what are you doing?"
She looked out the window as the carriage jerked to start and felt bile rise to her throat upon seeing her father standing at the balcony of his study, watching her coach leave.
What are you doing, father? She thought desperately. Dear God, what have you done?
XXX
Charlestown, South Carolina
Eliza took John's revelation of his encounters with Beatrice quite well. In fact, she brushed them off as mere 'flirtations', which made John feel even worse because of the lengths he went through to make sure Beatrice was out of their lives. Perhaps his efforts were for nothing and the woman was merely flirting with him? God, he overreacted, didn't he?
But did he? He was protecting his family. If those were flirtations what would she have done had he allowed it to continue? He refused to have an affair, he loved his wife. He loved Eliza and their unborn child.
"I cannot believe you suggested that Mr. Thornton marry Beatrice off to..." Eliza paused, twirling a tangerine around in her hand while relaxing on his chest while he stroked her hair. "What was his name again, darling?"
John sighed. "Stephen Franklin, from Boston?"
"That older businessman, you mean?" When John nodded solemnly, Eliza laughed. "Oh, that is funny! You arranged a marriage for Beatrice, darling, I never thought you had it in you. Remember when we talked about how we would marry our daughter off and you said that she has every right to her free will?"
"I do remember that," John said. "But I did not arrange her marriage, Eliza. I merely suggested that Mr. Franklin would be a good idea."
"And he's conveniently form Boston," Eliza chuckled, placing a hand on her belly. "This is so great, now she can feel the misery she must have inflicted on Lucy. The horror of not knowing what is going to happen, of having your whole life changing without control? She can feel that now, and it is all thanks to you," Eliza sat up and turned to look at her husband. "You did this for Lucy, my love, not because you feared she would drive a wedge between us."
John stroked her face with a smile. "Of course... It's just," he lowered his hand. "I do not want to be like my father, Eliza. I do not want to make the mistake he did, the mistake his wife did. Sure he and my mother were greatly in love and their story is poetic at best, but at what cost? I never want to be that way with you because I love you and I will always love you. You know that, right?"
Eliza smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Yes, my love," she whispered. "I do know. You are my heart and my soul, and I trust you completely. And look," she took his hand and placed it on her belly, "our child, boy or girl, will know their father, and how he is such a good man. The best. You are, John. I knew it from the moment I saw you, when I thought you and Lucy were cousins, remember?"
He laughed. "God, that feels like a lifetime ago."
"And yet here we are," Eliza said. "We are together. I would never sacrifice that for anything, and I know you wouldn't either."
"Of course," John smiled. He would have said more, but just then a knock sounded on the door, causing both of them to pause.
"Who could that be?" Eliza asked as John helped her to her feet and stood up. "John?"
"I have no idea," John said. "Stay here, darling."
The knock sounded again and John hurried to the door. It was probably one of his co-workers or Jacob Green, who had promised to stop by, but he never struck John as a man who would do so unannounced. Either way, it was probably nothing.
"John?" Eliza placed a hand on his back.
"I told you to stay back there," John chastised her gently. "What if it's someone dangerous?"
"You don't actually think that, do you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Open the door."
John nodded and sighed. "It's probably nothing."
"I'll bet our unborn child on it."
John laughed, but it sounded forced. He braced himself and slowly opened the door, revealing the man standing on the other side.
At first, no one spoke. Eliza gasped when she saw the man and John felt his blood run cold. How did he know where to find them? What was he doing here?
"Hello, John," Samuel Worthington said, his stern face looking even more so. "Hello, sister."
Again, there was silence.
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