Free The Landlord's Black-Eyed Daughter by Mary Ellen Dennis Page B

never recover her two hundred pounds.
    She must believe John’s promise. She really had no other choice. Besides, betrayal was repellent.
    All these thoughts ran through Elizabeth’s mind as the coach turned into the yard of the White Hart. Distractedly, she gathered her things together.
    â€œRemember, Grace. Do not say one word about the unfortunate incident.”
    â€œYou mean the robbery, Mistress?”
    â€œI mean the unfortunate incident.”
    â€œBut we must tell Lord Stafford. No respectable woman will be safe so long as those two monsters are free.”
    â€œI’d hardly call them monsters. They did us no physical harm. I’ll take care of the matter myself, in my own way. Do you understand?”
    As the coachman blew his horn, Elizabeth peered through the window. She saw that the area was crowded with incoming and outgoing carriages, stable hands, guards, and passengers. I hope no one is awaiting me, she thought. On the other hand, she had sent word with an earlier coach, so no doubt she would receive a hearty welcome.
    The coach rumbled to a halt beside the grooming shed, adjacent to the stables. A cheer went up and a small crowd immediately surrounded Elizabeth’s window. She saw her father, dark as a Gypsy, a big grin on his face. She saw Dorothea, looking as deceptively fragile as the crystal drops that hung from a chandelier. And Walter Stafford, half a head taller than those around him.
    Most women would call Stafford handsome. He did not possess the dark ruggedness of a Ralf Darkstarre or a John Randolph, yet he could easily pose for one of Elizabeth’s book heroes. A cauliflower wig cascaded down his narrow shoulders, enhanced by his padded coat. The rest of his body lacked the muscularity of a Ralf or John, but his visage was noteworthy. Mahogany brows shaded pale blue eyes whose intense expression often unsettled her. His nose was long and straight, his lips too thin, bowed on top. But this small discrepancy was disguised by a mustache and a well-trimmed goatee. When all the facets of Lord Stafford’s face came together, he looked like an imperial pirate.
    â€œRemember what I told you,” Elizabeth warned Grace, as the coachman pulled down the steps. “Not one word.”
    She opened the coach door to cheering and clapping, but before she could descend, Grace pushed her aside and tripped down the stairs. “We was robbed by two horrible highwaymen!” she yelled.
    The welcome party uttered a collective gasp.
    Strong arms lifted Elizabeth from the coach, and she gazed into her father’s shocked face. “Did they hurt you?” he asked. “Insult you in any way? Lay a hand on you?”
    â€œNo, of course not. It wasn’t—”
    â€œI’ve never been so afraid in my life,” Grace cried. “They said they’d kill us, and do all manner of unspeakable things.”
    Another collective gasp.
    Grace began sobbing. She glanced around, as if seeking solace, then collapsed against Lord Stafford’s chest.
    Ignoring Grace, Stafford looked at Elizabeth, his eyes narrowed to slits. “What exactly happened? Where were you when you were robbed? How much money did they take? What jewelry?”
    She attempted a smile. “It was nothing, really. Just a misunderstand—”
    â€œThey took all of Mistress Elizabeth’s money.”
    â€œNo!” Dorothea’s hand flew to her mouth. “Not your entire fortune.”
    â€œOf course not,” Elizabeth snapped, irritated by what she considered her stepmother’s inappropriate concern.
    None too gently, Stafford pushed Grace away. “How much, Elizabeth?”
    Grace shook herself like a dog who had just emerged from a lake. “It was more than two hundred pounds, m’lord.”
    â€œIt was less than twenty.”
    â€œBut Mistress—”
    â€œI know how much I lost!”
    Elizabeth felt her father’s arms tighten around her.