The Ghost of Christmas Past (10 page)

Elizabeth
found herself looking at Liam, to gauge his reaction. How could he fail to be
enchanted? But it was clear from his face, and from Lady Clarissa's as she
passed them by with her step-mother, that they had never set eyes on each other
until that moment.

“She
is very lovely, is she not?” said Elizabeth, when the two ladies had passed by.

“She
is certainly that,” said Liam. “But sad, I think.”

“She
has known sadness.”

“Yes,
she was in love with the younger Sanderson brother, was she not?” Liam turned
to her, and it was as if Lady Clarissa and her concerns had immediately been
forgotten. “Will you dance, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth
agreed, and lost herself in the music for the next twenty minutes as they
joined in with the dancing. It was as if the recent murder had been forgotten,
as everyone threw themselves into the Christmas spirit. Elizabeth had seldom
known such joy in her aunt’s house, which was usually austere. It was helped,
she suspected, by the new found closeness between Lady Bedlington and Lady
Clarissa. She was curious to know what had happened to bring about such a
rapprochement. Then she felt Liam’s strong hand grip her waist and all other
thoughts dissipated in the pleasure of his touch.

It
was on the second, slower, measure that she noticed the man in the minstrels'
gallery. He was not one of the band, of that she was sure, and neither did he
seem to be a guest. He merely sat there, watching the dancing, with his eyes
moving amongst the crowds of people, from the dancers to those taking a rest,
then back again. He wore a new suit, and was clean enough, but gave the
impression he was not used to wearing such fine clothes. He kept pulling at the
collar of his shirt, and tugging at the sleeves, as if the clothes on his back imprisoned
him.

“I
wonder...” said Elizabeth, as Liam held her in his arms, “who that strange man
is.”

“I
have no idea,” said Liam. “I noticed him a short while ago. Perhaps he came
with the band.”

“He
is not playing an instrument.”

“No,
but he may well help the band to carry theirs. I hear there are such men
employed by the more successful musical troupes.”

“Oh
yes, I should have thought of that.” But the answer did not satisfy her. The
man was too interested in his surroundings. That might be the case had he never
visited a grand house before, but it did not strike Elizabeth that the surroundings
were particularly new to the man. If that were so, he would be taking in the
furnishings and the architecture. What's more, she began to notice that his
eyes often hesitated over Lady Clarissa, softening for a moment, before
becoming hard again and resuming what appeared to be some sort of search.

At
one point, Lady Clarissa looked up to the man, and he shook his head almost
imperceptibly. Elizabeth looked around at the other guests. Only then did it
strike her exactly how odd it was that her aunt, who had been a virtual
recluse, should suddenly invite the whole town to a ball. And it was the whole
town. Apart from Mr. and Miss Hardacre.

“I
wonder where the Hardacres are,” said Elizabeth, whilst she and Liam took a
rest from dancing and sipped eggnog.

“Are
you wishing for more exciting company, Elizabeth?” asked Liam.

“Oh
no, not at all. I'm having a wonderful time with you.” Elizabeth clamped her
mouth shut. What was it about this man that made her speak so openly? “What I
mean is...”

“I am
quite happy with your first answer,” he said. “Come, waltz with me.”

“Do
you think that perhaps you should give some of the other young men a chance to
dance with Miss Dearheart?” said Amelia Wheston

“I
think that's a dreadful idea,” said Liam, leading Elizabeth to the dance floor
once more. “You don't mind, do you? That I monopolise your time.

“I
don't mind,” said Elizabeth, feeling heady and warm because of the punch and
eggnog she had drunk. Supper had not been served yet, and she had been too
excited to eat anything before leaving the house. At least that was what she
told herself. She was sure it had nothing to do with Liam's strong arm around
her waist, and the way he held her small gloved hand in his hand.

She
also felt more light-hearted than she had been of late. Liam was definitely not
Albert Sanderson, because he and Lady Clarissa were strangers. And it was also
certain that Liam and Amelia Wheston were not in love either. Amelia had danced
with John Wheston most of the night, only taking a break to dance with
Elizabeth's father. Despite Amelia's teasing words, Liam had danced with each
of the sisters, as had the Reverend. It threw Mrs. Chatterbucks and Miss Graves
into flurries of excitement to be chosen by such handsome men. The memory of
this night, thought Elizabeth, would be something to keep them warm in the cold
winter nights that followed, and she had no doubt they would be talking about
it for many years after that.

But
the night seemed to belong to her and Liam. The music felt as though it had
been written especially for them, the dances designed for the movement of their
bodies. For the first time in many months Elizabeth felt as though she was
where she belonged. How could she ever have thought about leaving Midchester
when so much happiness could be found within its boundaries?

“I'm
glad we had this time together,” said Liam, as the tempo changed and the music
became slower still.

“It
sounds as though you're going away,” said Elizabeth.

“That
may happen soon,” he said. “If it is not too forward of me, could I speak to
you alone for a moment?”

Elizabeth
followed him out of the warm ballroom and to the cooler atmosphere of the
study. Though a fire burned in the grate, it was not so overwhelmingly warm as
it had been amongst the heat of over fifty bodies in the ballroom. She pressed
her gloves to her cheeks, which were slightly damp with perspiration.

“Elizabeth...”
Liam had walked to the fireplace and stood with his back to her, gazing into
its depths.

“What
is it?”

“I
... I don’t want you to think I’ve misled you in any way about my feelings. You
are...” he paused, as if the words wouldn’t come. “I never thought I would find
a woman who was so gentle and kind, and without artifice. You are all those
things, and more. You’re beautiful, you’re intelligent...”

“But...”
Elizabeth croaked, sensing the next word. He would tell her that he only
thought of her as a sister. It would not be the first time. Apart from Mr.
Hardacre, most of the men – not that there had been many – that Elizabeth had
liked had told her the same thing.

Liam
spun around. “But nothing. I adore you. I have loved you since the first moment
I saw you. Only ... I’m not free to love you, and I hold you in too much esteem
to offer you any other option.”

“What
are you trying to say?” Had she got it so wrong? Was there a connection between
Liam and Lady Clarissa? Something they had hidden from everyone else? But then
Lady Bedlington would have to be involved, and Elizabeth doubted her aunt’s
ability at such dissimulation.

“I
never meant to mislead you, I swear. My feelings overtook me and I am afraid I
acted too rashly in speaking to you as I did. Elizabeth.... remember that I
told you I once had a wife and did not wish to repeat the experience?”

“Yes...”

“As
far as I know, she is still living. I am still married.”

“No!”
She put her hands to her face in horror.

“I
wish it were different. I wish I could find my wife and divorce her then I
could be with...”

“No,”
Elizabeth shook her head vehemently. “No, I would not allow that. If your vows
to her are so easy to break, how could I ever trust you to be constant?”
Despite her feelings for him, it horrified her to think he would be quite happy
to rid himself of his wife.

“Then
I have disappointed you.”

“No
... yes. You should not have let me think ...” Elizabeth felt tears stinging
her eyes. Her head spun, trying to assimilate the new information. “And
everyone else. Oh what will people think? I let you escort me to this ball. My
father was deceived too.”

“You
have no idea of the hell I’ve suffered, Lizzie, married to a woman who deceived
me, who would have been happy to see me die.”

“If
you are trying to come up with excuses for breaking your marriage vows, be
clear that I will not accept any of them. Despite living in such a small town I
am aware of the lies men tell about their wives. How she does not understand
him. How she does not let him ... does not honour his conjugal rights. Please
do not do me the disservice of lying in such a way. It will only make me hate
you, and ...” Her voice broke. “On second thoughts, do say all that. It would
be easier to hate you. Much easier than this pain I’m feeling now.” She gulped
back a sob.

“My
wife framed me for murder, Lizzie. Then she left me to rot in prison.”

“What?
Then you are Albert Sanderson? Oh dear God, then it is not only me you have
deceived, but Lady Clarissa.” She realised on some level that it didn’t ring
true. Albert Sanderson had not gone to prison. Unless Liam were speaking
figuratively. She imagined a sanatorium might feel much like a prison.

“I am
not Albert Sanderson. Though it seems he and I have much in common.”

She
sensed rather than heard the door to the study open wider.

 “I
want you to know that whatever people may tell you about me in the future, I am
not the man they have made me out to be. And I am not an inconstant husband. At
least no more than my wife is as inconstant wife.” Liam was looking over her
shoulder at something. Elizabeth turned her head, and was vaguely aware of
Constable Hounds standing at the door.  He was watching them. Elizabeth felt a
dart of panic in her breast.

“What
is it?”

The
constable gave an apologetic cough and came into the room. He had several other
men with him, and behind him in the hall, some of the guests had stopped to see
what was going on. Elizabeth recognised the other men as local farm workers,
who were often deputised to help during trouble in the neighbourhood. As if on
cue, the music in the ballroom stopped, and everyone stood still, awaiting the
next move.

Constable
Hounds reached spoke to Liam. “Doctor William Bradbourne, I am arresting you
for murder and your subsequent escape from jail. Now, be a good man and come
quietly.”

Elizabeth
looked up at Liam, expecting him to say it was preposterous, but he merely
nodded.

“Liam!”
Amelia shot through the crowds. “Liam, darling!”

“Take
care of her, John,” Liam said to Doctor Wheston, who had followed his wife.

“Dearest,
tell them,” said Amelia, grabbing Liam by the sleeve. “Tell them that she's
still alive somewhere and that she’s the one who murdered your patient.
Constable Hounds, you must believe me when I say my brother is guilty of
nothing. He is a good man!”

That
was when it all became clear to Elizabeth. Of course Liam had brought good news
of Amelia's brother. He had brought himself.

“I’m
sorry, Mrs. Wheston,” said Constable Hounds. “I have to do my job, as painful
as it is. I ... I like Doctor Doubleday ... Doctor Bradbourne. But he has been
found guilty of murder and I must do my duty.”

If
Elizabeth’s head spun at the news of Liam being married, it was nothing
compared to how it whirled with the news that he was a condemned man. But he
had touched her, and looked at her with love in his eyes. He had saved her
brother’s and Johnny Fletcher’s lives, when had he really been the murderer
they were seeking, it would have been better to leave them both to die in the
icy pond. She shivered at the thought of losing Samuel that way. But nothing
she had known about Liam in the past few days pointed to him being capable of
taking a life.

Of
course she could be deluding herself, because she knew that whatever else might
be a lie, her feelings for him were not. She was hopelessly in love with him.
Perhaps it blinded her to his faults, but everything else in her body cried out
that he was being unjustly treated.

“I'm
sorry, Elizabeth,” said Liam, taking her hand in his and kissing it. “For one
solitary moment I had a dream of a quiet life with a woman I truly loved, but I
would have been pretending for all of it. This is why I wanted to be honest
with you. You are a beacon of hope and truth in a dark world, and I was drawn
to your purity. But I won’t involve you in my darkness. Forget all I said.
Pretend it was all a wonderful dream that you and I once shared. If it helps
you to believe I am a murderer, then so be it, because I would rather you hated
me than go to my death knowing that I caused you a moment’s pain.”

His
words were like a knife to her heart. How could she feel anything but pain when
she thought of him, dangling from the end of a hangman’s noose, his handsome
face contorted in pain?

“I’m
sorry, Doctor Bradbourne, but we must go...” said Constable Hounds. They
started towards the door and went out into the hall.

Elizabeth
thought she might collapse with grief, only to feel her father’s steadying arm
on her shoulder. “Father...” she whispered, through her tears. She put her head
on the Reverend’s shoulder. She was aware of all eyes on her, judging her.