Chapter 27- Missing Pieces

Thomas rides on through the snow as visibility diminishes from an eighth of a mile ahead to just a few yards. He slows, mindful that it is easy to lose the road. He doesn't know how he will recognize what is left of Allerdale Hall when he arrives. Lizzie's deconstruction was, to his knowledge, complete, and he hasn't been back. The only thing that would remain would be the deep pit into the mines. He shudders, thinking of her losing her way and falling into that red clay.

He drives the carriage until he thinks he should be somewhere near the house, somewhere near that huge iron gate, but remembers that it, too, sold. There is little left. He cannot see far in front of him. Out of the snow, he sees what appears to be a path to the left, perhaps even the road up to the house. He cautiously takes it, watching Sampson's steps to make sure he does not falter and that he has not brought them onto treacherous terrain. Ahead, he sees splotches in the snow and knows he has found it. Josie's tracks have brought up the red of the clay. Finally, he has a path to follow. But it soon disappears as the soil heaviest with clay drowns the snow in seeping red.

He parks the carriage under the lonely tree with a stern word to Sampson not to go anywhere. He steps down and feels the ground stick to his shoes as he walks. He stares at where the house should be and sees nothing. Even in the snow, there should at least be some shadow there, but there is not and he is not sure how he feels seeing that it is entirely gone.

"Lizzie? Lizzie? Where are you? Please... I...I need to know you're safe." He walks towards where there should be a house and finds the gaping open clay pit, practically frantic, "Lizzie? Clap for me. Please. Just a noise so I know you're alive." He walks the long distance around the edge, trying to see if she has fallen into the mine. Once he circles back, he wonders if he should find a way to get down into the pit to look for her. It is the only reason he can think that he would not have found her and the thought of her injured or dead in his father's mine horrifies him more than anything else he imagines.

He hears a horse approaching from the path, "Mal? Is that you? I can't find her. I need help. I don't know how to search the pit- did you bring a rope?" No answer. Thomas stares into the hole, desperate and despairing, "If she's hurt in any way, if this house or it's remains have harmed her, consider it my doing. Shoot me out here and leave me to the pit, for it is the justice that is right and quick and true."

The rider dismounts and approaches. He does not turn around, waiting to hear the click of the rifle as it is aimed at his head. Instead he hears the rustle of taffeta. He turns, hoping it is one of the living, not one of the dead.

Lizzie seems to fade into sight as she comes closer through the snow. Thomas' heart leaps and he hurries to her, throwing his arms around her, holding her close as soon as she is in reach. She is cold, her coat forgotten, her dress too thin for the weather, snow sticking to her eyelashes and to the tear streaks on her pink cheeks. He sweeps her up and carries her to the carriage, her horse following them. He settles Lizzie in the seat with the quilt wrapped around her and then goes back to tie Josie's lead to the carriage. Once that is done, he sits beside her and kisses her.

"My god, Lizzie. Why on earth did you come out here? No- don't speak. Wait to tell me until we are by the fire and you are warm, your honeyed tea beside you."

She leans against him and he starts for home; her hands are too cold to write, but she whispers, "Everything is ending, Thomas."

"No, it isn't. I know it feels that way and there is a hole in your heart where he should be, but please...we aren't ending, so it can't be everything." He dreads his next question but asks it anyway, "Are we?"

She shakes her head and starts crying on his shoulder.

"This isn't just about your father, is it?"

She shakes her head.

"You still want to be married, don't you?"

She nods.

"And it is breaking your heart that I don't know how I can."

Another nod.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzie. I love you."

"It's been a quarter of a century since you were last married, Thomas." She coughs. He takes the reigns in one hand so he can put his other arm around her.

"I know. And I know it should be enough distance. But..." He sighs, "I don't know how we can go about this in a way that won't bring back dread, but I am willing to talk to Brother Morton and Rebecca to see if it is possible to make a wedding ceremony that looks nothing like my others. Something honest. But after, if you still permit it, I would take your name instead of you mine. I cannot have another Lady Sharpe."

She sits up and turns his face towards hers, then presses her hand to her heart, over his, and back to hers. He kisses her forehead before returning his eyes to the road.

"Just...please be patient with me. This will be incredibly difficult."

Partway back, they meet Malachi, Roger, Nathaniel, and Thaddeus- nearly the same search party that came for him. He nods to them and slows the carriage.

"Everything alright, Mr Sharpe?" Malachi asks.

"Yes, sir. I found her. She's cold, but she's unhurt. Thank god."

"Good. Rebecca's been to the cottage- got a fire started. Let's get her home to warm up."

Thomas rides onward, the four men his escort. He tries to ignore them, to focus on her and on the task at hand, but something in his instincts tells him to be wary. As soon as they reach the cottage, he lifts her and steps to the ground. He ignores the horses and carries her inside. One of the others will take care of the animals and return the carriage. But Lizzie is his responsibility. He carries her to their bed. Rebecca has had a warmer under the sheets. She slips it out and turns down the blankets while Lizzie kicks off her shoes. He lays her down and tucks her in while Rebecca slips from the room. He sits beside her and kisses her forehead as she sighs into the pillow.

Still bent low, he whispers, "Lizzie, my love. Please rest. I'll take care of you."

Rebecca brings in a tray of hot soup and the honeyed tea, "Here's a bit to warm you from the inside. I'll keep a watch on her, Thomas. Go talk to the boys."

He stands as she places the tray in Lizzie's lap, "But why?"

Rebecca does not answer, making sure that her patient has the steaming mug in her hands before she turns to him, walking with him towards the doorway, "Just do. Answer their questions."

"They still don't trust me. Not after all these years."

"Please. Listen. There is more here than you realize."

"Do you trust me?"

"As much as a village witch ever trusts anyone, yes."

He sighs and glances back to the bed, "Come get me if she needs me. I don't like not being beside her when she isn't well." He leaves the room. Thaddeus is just shaking off his coat after taking the horses to the stables. Malachi, Roger, and Nathaniel have already taken seats around the fire, "Gentlemen. Rebecca says you wish to speak to me."

"That we do," Roger says.

"About?"

"What caused this, Mr Sharpe?" Malachi asks.

He flinches at the accusation in Malachi's tone, "I don't know."

"Come now. She ran off back towards your mansion. Or where it used to be. You can't tell me you didn't have anything to do with why she disappeared."

"I'm sorry. All I have is her note. It isn't anything groundbreaking. I don't know why she chose there." He brings her note to them and they pass it around.

"You don't know why she'd want to 'go back to where everything started'?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"Well, Mr Sharpe, that doesn't make much sense to me. The girl loses her father and runs off to the place where they arrested a murderous pair of siblings? You'll have to explain to me how this connects." Malachi's voice is harsh. Thomas feels the familiar panic he has always felt when someone starts to raise voice or ire against him.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any answers for you."

"You didn't hurt her?"

"Good god, no. I've never lifted a finger against her. I love her."

"Your family doesn't exactly have the best record of not hurting the people they love."

"If you think there was any love in my family, you've greatly mis-characterized us." He clasps his wrists behind his back to hide that his palms sweat and he can no longer keep his hands steady.

"Let me put this plain and simple, Mr Sharpe. Your father had a habit of being a mastermind of patient cruelty with women. Some of them he groomed for years so he could break their hearts the harshest way possible. And I'm not convinced, given that our girl just ran out into the snow towards that damned house of yours, that you didn't do the same thing."

Thomas sits on the hearth, horrified, his face pale, his stomach turning. He can't find words to defend himself. He drops his head into his hands, trembling.

Nathaniel glances between the older men. Malachi's gaze is fixed on Thomas. Roger's too. Thaddeus looks uncomfortable. He meets Nathaniel's eyes. Nathaniel shakes his head- he knows what they are doing to him is wrong. Thaddeus tilts his towards Thomas.

Nathaniel stands and walks to the hearth; he sits and puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Look...there's more to this story than you probably know. What do you know about how Lizzie's mother met her end?"

"Mr York told me she tried to kill Lizzie, then eviscerated herself out on the moor." His face is still hidden behind his hands.

"Did he tell you why?"

"He said she was mad." He sighs and looks up, "But I don't know what that means other than there were doctors who thought puncturing her brain would help."

He sighs, "Well, that's part of it. But not everything. Your father- our father- he took a fancy to Miss Magdalene even before she was married to Mr York. That's where I come from. She was a wild one. Madness was in her blood, that's true. And she came over Hadrian's wall for her husband and married him a year after she'd been here. Left me without parents, she did. But that's not the story the men told me. The story's what happened next. See, the baronet, he kept asking after her. Trying to steal her away. Mr York was damned clear to him what he'd do if he ever caught him trying to get into the house. So he didn't try that. But he wanted her bad and so he kept trying to get at her when she was out. They say it fueled her insanity. Mr York, he tried to take care of her, lord rest him. He did everything he could. But Sharpe was persistent. And he didn't like when he found out she was pregnant with Lizzie. She was showing pretty well when he managed to catch her out walking. He dragged her behind Mal's house and thought he'd have his way with her there. She made enough noise to attract Mal, though, and he came out with the rifle aimed and ready to fire. He hesitated when he saw who it was that had her, though, and that gave Mr Sharpe enough time to pull his own pistol and put it to her belly. He wanted her, he didn't care about Lizzie. Mal lowered his rifle and Mr Sharpe left. Now we don't know what happened between then and the first time she tried to kill herself. I don't think he came back. Her husband talked her down and brought her home. She had Lizzie. Rebecca attended. And it wasn't a week before she was on the bridge threatening to jump with the baby in her arms. I think Lizzie was just a few months old when she tried to kill herself again. It wasn't long after that she tried to slit Lizzie's throat and then went out to the moor. We wondered about why that day, but Mr Kittering said there was a letter for her with the Sharpe seal in wax on the envelope. Mr York never told us what was in it. We never asked. I don't even know if he kept it. For all we know, he burned it, or buried it with her. But she tried to kill her daughter and ran towards that house to kill herself after she saw what was in that letter. Mal says he thinks she wanted to show him for the monster he was."

Thomas stares at the floor, horrified, "Oh my god... I didn't think... I mean, I knew he'd had other women, but..."

Nathaniel places a hand on his shoulder, "But what, Tom?"

No one but Nathaniel calls him Tom; the nickname is something to focus on, a soft and kind voice to bring him a little clarity in this mess, "I thought the greatest extent of his cruelty was kept to the house."

"Nah. Our father was a shit to everyone. But those he expected something from, they were the ones he damaged the most. You. Your sis. Your mother. Magdalene."

"Do you think I would hurt Lizzie?" he asks, heartbroken that the question has to be voiced.

"No, I don't. And I don't think the boys do, either. But they knew her mother. I was just a baby; I heard the stories second-hand. But Mal, he went out with Mr York and found her, guts spilled on the ground. Thad and Rebecca took in Lizzie, covered in blood. And Roger dug the hole when they brought her back. So when Lizzie runs off the same way her mother did, the question is, is this her mother's madness? Was there something that happened to make it start in her? She knows the story. Even though her father didn't want her to know, we made sure she had the truth of it when she was old enough to ask."

Thomas sighs, "And given she she loves baronet Sharpe, you have to ask."

Thaddeus speaks, "Now we've got to ask again, too. Mr Sharpe, has anything happened, other than the death of her father, that might have contributed to this running off to- what was it? -'where it all started'- or some-such?"

Thomas thinks, his heart heavy, "She asked a question. And I could not answer as she so dearly yearned." The room is silent except for the crackling of the fire.

"And?" Roger prompts.

"She asked me to marry her. The day we buried her father."

Malachi shakes his head, "Why the hell would that lead to this? What did you tell her?"

"I told her I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Good god, man, don't you understand? I've been married four times and three of them have ended in death! The fourth nearly so! How can I simply consent to another of something that my sister considered so trivial that she thought it a perfect way to fend off starvation, something so insignificant that wives could be killed and thrown away? Marry a girl, use the money, kill her- 'the perfect plan, the lonely ones will never be missed,' she said. And after that, after watching Pamela die; seeing Margaret wither, being unable to stomach seeing her pass; letting Enola cough her way to death, even while she tried desperately to care for my dying son...my god, you have to ask why? How can I say 'yes' without it calling back all that and what I did to Edith? How can any of you expect it wouldn't?" He only realizes he has raised his voice after he has finished and he feels his heart racing, his breathing quick. He slumps, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell. She's resting." He tells himself he's failed her again, interrupting her recovery.

Nathaniel wraps his arm around his brother's shoulder, "No, it's alright. That wasn't a fair question. And we're asking very personal things."

Thomas stands to escape the touch, "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I have to take care of Lizzie. You may continue your inquisition once she is well. I didn't want to tell anyone yet, but I've told her we will try. We will talk to Brother Morton and to Rebecca to see if we can marry without my dread destroying it. It can't. Everything else was a lie and this absolutely must be true. And now you know. Before I wanted you to. When I wanted to just have a secret between she and I, something we could work through and dream about together, just us, as lovers sometimes do." He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, too tired to pretend he isn't emotional, "And don't you all have a memorial to be attending?"

Thaddeus stands, "You're right. We do. Please forgive the intrusion, Mr Sharpe. We just wanted to make sure Lizzie's safe."

"Safe from me."

"More safe from herself." Thaddeus tips his hat, "Rest well. And stay warm." He leaves. Roger follows.

Malachi steps forward, "I'm sorry, son. I was too harsh. It's hard to shake the memory of her mother with her belly slit and that's all I could think of when Gerry told me that's where Lizzie'd gone."

"Then you understand how memories haunt and I am sure you can see how it breaks my heart that you all would question my love for Lizzie. Please. Leave us alone. When she has recovered, perhaps we will speak again."

Malachi leaves; Nathaniel is the only one left, "I'm sorry. The story...it's horrific. It's why we all assumed your lives were hell up in that goddamned house. If this is what he did to a woman he lusted for, someone he had a use for, what would he do to children?"

"You cannot fathom the depths of depravity and violence he visited upon us. He liked to choke me until I passed out, a worthless piece of rubbish, not even human. And my sister...he humiliated her in ways only a man can inflict upon a young girl."

Nathaniel offers his hand, "I hope you'll forgive me. I don't think you've ever hurt Lizzie. I've considered her your missus for years."

"Thank you, Nate." He shakes the offered hand, "But I would like quiet. I need to care for her. We can talk later." Nathaniel tips his hat as he puts on his coat and heads out into the cold.

Once alone, Thomas takes a few deep breaths before walking into the bedroom. Rebecca sits beside Lizzie rubbing her cold feet. The colour is slowly coming back to her toes. Thomas brings a pair of woolen socks to the bed and sits on her other side.

Lizzie pats her chest and touches her ear.

"You heard."

She nods.

"I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head reaches for his hand as Rebecca speaks, "I want to watch her for a little while longer to make sure those feet warm. Her hands are better with the mug to clutch. She ate most of her soup."

"Thank you, Rebecca."

"The men are damned fools. Good intentioned ones, but still."

He sighs, "I'd rather not talk about what just happened. It hurts."

"I know it does. But at least you understand why."

"I do. And I think they should have seen that I am not my father. I hate even wearing his name, but I have no other to take."

Lizzie smiles on the bed, "York," she whispers.

Rebecca pulls back the blanket, "Help her with the socks. Then curl up beside her. It's the best thing- more warmth. We'll talk of weddings when she's feeling better."

He kicks off his shoes and lays beside Lizzie, asking for her to stick one foot in the air for a sock, then the other. She giggles as he playfully slips each on with a little zipping sound. Rebecca tucks them both in and turns out the lamps. She retires to the kitchen. She wants to be nearby to keep a watch on Lizzie. So while she waits, she bakes. Lizzie, though falls asleep cuddled against Thomas and he follows soon after. They will talk in the morning.