25
The coffin maker's wife had seen much in the last few days that would've caused men far larger than her to cower. For truth, she'd seen men shake with fear as she stared down the horrors the bandits had left behind. Never once had her courage failed her, and she wasn't about to let it start now.
When she saw the bone-white face of the Dead Witch emerge from the shadows of the trees, Bella did not hesitate.
Her husband whirled around, his body trying once again to block hers, but her anger was great, and she was tired of the unexplainable.
So, Bella did what came naturally to her.
She bent down, picking up a thick stick by her feet, and when she stood, she charged the ghoul with a battle cry that would honor her ancestors.
"Be gone, Witch!" Bella screamed, lifting the stick above her head as if brandishing a sword.
The witch's white face paled further, and she let out a scream, her hands rising above her head as she cowered.
At the same moment, strong arms wrapped around Bella's waist, holding her back.
"My love," her husband gasped. "Stop, this is not what you think!"
Bella struggled in his arms a moment longer before his words had a chance to penetrate her mind. When they finally did, she whirled on him, fire in her eyes.
"Explain this," she demanded.
Edward gently tugged the stick out his wife's hands, tossing it from her reach before securing his arms around her waist again. When he was sure she was mostly harmless, he beckoned for the young woman to come forward.
Bella turned to glare at the girl, who was looking at the coffin maker as if he were her knight in shining armor. Bella was not by her nature a jealous woman, but she'd been separated from her husband a long time, and it was clear these two shared a secret.
Before she could stop herself, she felt resentment toward them build in her chest.
"My love," Edward started, his hand gently rubbing her hip through her dress. He knew the calming focus it often brought on his wife, and she shot him a dirty look for pulling such a trick. "This is Alice Brandon," he said softly. "Alice, this is my wife, Bella."
The young woman turned huge round eyes toward the coffin maker's wife, and with clumsy movements, dipped into an awkward curtsy. Bella finally took time to take note of the girl's dress. It was filthy, as if she'd been rolling in the mud.
"My love, I have a lot to tell you," Edward said softly.
Bella turned to her husband, gazing at his beautiful face. She turned back to the young woman and felt a stone slide into her stomach.
"Very well," she said, her voice taut with her tension. "Start at the beginning."
…
The coffin maker had been dispatched to the home of one Alton Bryant, nearly one year ago, with a coffin made for the patriarch of the house.
Alton had been young, in his early forties, when he'd succumbed to fever. He left behind eight daughters, most of whom were far too young to bring in any money to the house.
The coffin maker had spent the day with the Bryant family, comforting the bereaved as much as he could. It was one of those times he wished his beloved had been with him, for he knew no one could soothe as she could.
Edward had been at the house only one night, but in that time, he'd been around enough to hear Widow Bryant make plans for her eldest daughter.
She was to marry a rich landowner a day's ride away. The man was old, a widower twice over already, and sought a lovely new bride with whom he hoped to spend the rest of his days. The eldest Bryant daughter, Tanya, could not have been more than sixteen years old, and had that night, cried herself to sleep at the prospect.
Moved by the young woman's fear of marrying a man more than thrice her senior, the coffin maker made an uncharacteristically rash decision.
He would help the girl fake her death, shortly after her marriage, so that her family might still be cared for, and she would be free to live a life of her own choosing.
It took time to coordinate, and for a while, the coffin maker doubted his ability to pull it off. But with the help of Monsieur Laurent, Edward arranged for the girl's faked death and swift burial. Put into a special coffin of his own design, the girl was set to rest only two hours before the coffin maker was digging her up again. He set her up in a new village, with support of women who would tend to her and give her a new name and a new life. Her family, though grieving their loss of her, were cared for as promised.
Since his heroic, though rash, adventure, the coffin maker had kept his ear to the ground, looking for any and all opportunities to help the young women he knew were often shoved into disagreeable marriages.
It had then happened that two such arrangements were occurring at once. The first, a girl named Bree who had been merely fourteen years of age, and then Miss Brandon, three towns over. Edward had managed to dig up Bree, to free her from her coffin and set her on her way, and was on his way to help the next girl, when things started to go awry. Alice, who was no older than fifteen when she'd been slated for marriage, had received the sleeping draught from Edward, and had been presumed dead as planned.
The part that had not gone to plan, however, were the events that followed. The untimely death of a maid, and the shockingly shrewd perspective of her family, had poor young Alice buried in a coffin with an actual corpse, thrown into the ground before the coffin maker could find his way to her. Even if Edward had been able to make it to her village in time, he'd been intercepted by the bandits, taken hostage long before then, leaving poor Alice stuck in the coffin not built for her.
To his horror, the girl had clawed her way from the grave once she awoke, and she had been leaving a haunting tale in her wake as she tried to meet the coffin maker as planned.
As he told all this to his beloved wife, he watched her face warily, aware that at any moment, she could scream for him to stop, beg him to silence this madness.
Instead, she turned to him, eyes glowing with her fury. "And you thought you could not share this side venture with me?" she hissed, her tone glacial. "Would you think I would turn down these girls?" She turned to Alice. "Is this why you chased me from the stables?"
Alice nodded, tears in her eyes. "Y-yes," she hiccuped. "I feared being seen and recognized by anyone." Her eyes flickered to the coffin maker. "I was told to keep out of sight, but I didn't know what to do. I heard a stranger had brought his horse to the stable. I hoped it was you," she cried.
The coffin maker flinched, and Bella spun out of his arms, clearly furious. She removed the shawl from her shoulders and reached out, winding it around the young and frightened Alice.
"We'll take care of you," Bella promised her. "You're safe now, love."
The young girl nearly burst into tears in the coffin maker's wife's embrace.
Edward's eyes met his darling's gaze, and he let out a breath. "I should have told you," he said softly over the girl's head.
"Yes, you should have," Bella said fiercely.
Too late, he saw tears in his wife's eyes, and he felt his heart constrict. He'd wounded her by keeping her in the dark. He'd only ever sought to protect her, but he should have known better.
Bella didn't need protection; she needed partnership.
The coffin maker let out a deep breath, watching his wife tenderly care for the young would-be bride. In his heart, he vowed that he would never again let anything come between them. He would never keep anything from her again.
"There is another," Edward said after a moment, his heart thundering against his chest. "Mr. Reynolds… that was the business he sought. His younger sister has been sold into an abusive marriage. I am meant to meet him within a fortnight," he said slowly.
Bella's determined eyes met his gaze over the girl's head. "We will rescue the poor woman," she said fiercely. "Together."