Ella Wood by Michelle Isenhoff

Author:Michelle Isenhoff
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 1511619813
Published: 2015-05-09T05:00:00+00:00

17

Emily spent half the night wrestling with her pillow. Lottie helped her wash her hair and dress for church the next morning, but she might as well have stayed home for all she heard of the sermon. Sorrow and revulsion churned within her gut like dark, gray clouds. She feared the slightest provocation might trigger a torrent of tears. Even the sight of Thad sitting one pew up and looking devilishly handsome with his cravat askew failed to divert her attention.

Maybe she should tell her father about the attack despite her promise. His ignorance made her feel vulnerable and unsafe, even more so than during the days following her own kidnapping. Deena spread the word that Lizzie had contracted a fever and brought her into her own room to sleep. Emily hated aiding in the deception, especially on a Sunday morning, but so far she had kept Lizzie’s secret.

The ride home was quiet. Emily brooded out the carriage window the entire trip, claiming that she hadn’t slept well when her mother asked why.

“Perhaps you should lie down for a while before dinner, dear,” Marie suggested.

Emily was going to follow her advice—until Abel met her in the stable yard. “Miss Emily, Chantilly done foaled while you was at church.”

Emily’s emotions swung in a wild arc, like a rope swing spanning a torrent. Rushing into the barn, she peered into the roomy box stall. The mare nibbled sedately at wisps of hay while a tiny, silvery newborn rested in the straw beside her. Emily gasped, her heart melting.

Jack caught her by the arm. “Mother said to retrieve you and force you to change out of your Sunday gown.” He dragged her from the stable—more enthusiastically than necessary, she thought.

“Let go of me, you imbecile! I can walk by myself.”

Her tugging was in vain. “Mother’s orders.”

He released her at the back door, his laughter chasing her to the second story.

Too impatient to call for Lottie, Emily reached behind her back and unbuttoned far enough to force the dress over her head. Hair spilled over her face as several pins dragged free. She yanked out the rest of them before kicking off several layers of undergarments and dragging on her oldest, plainest dress. She rushed from the room, twisting her hair into a loose braid, and slipped upstairs to the slaves’ quarters.

She slowed outside Deena’s room and quietly peered inside. She didn’t want to wake Lizzie if she’d fallen into the forgetfulness of slumber, but the girl lay on a cot staring vacantly at the wall.

Emily tapped lightly on the door. “How are you feeling?”

Lizzie didn’t move.

“Can I get you anything?”

No answer.

Emily stood in the doorway uncertainly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to tell my father what happened?”

“He’ll kill me,” she whispered.

“Who will, Lizzie?”

“Don’ make me tell you, Miss Emily. He promised.” She turned her head then, brown eyes troubled. “He’ll do it.”

“I want to help you, Lizzie. My father will protect you.”

The girl turned her face back toward the wall.

Emily’s heart twisted in her chest.

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