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peeked from beneath his cassock’s ragged hem. This was no sudden change. Clearly, he’d made the decision to join the church shortly after our betrothal, days even, for he’d been on the verge of returning to school when we parted. He would have needed time to study, pass his tests, and then serve long enough for his outdoor lay to become ragged.
    I drew an armful of the sheet toward my chest, as if it could shield me from the ache growing there. Tears welled likefloodwaters threatening to lap over the side of a dam. In another moment, I knew I’d break and be swept away in the torrent.
    “Will you take tea?” Mrs. Windham tugged on his arm again. “Edward?”
    With a jerk of his head, he looked at her. “No.” He blinked rapidly, touching his forehead with his fingertips. “I meant, no thank you. I shall stay no longer than necessary to return the five pounds Henry borrowed.”
    From the window seat behind me, Elizabeth gave a sharp hiss.
    Mrs. Windham’s brow furrowed. “Five pounds?”
    “The money,” Edward prompted, turning scarlet as he tucked his curled hat beneath one arm and reached inside a purse affixed to his cassock, “I believe he borrowed last Sunday. After church? Was it not urgent it be repaid by today?”
    “Last Sunday! Good heavens, Edward. Are you accusing us of breaking your parents’ edict?” Mrs. Windham’s baby face pouted. “You know I would not. We have had no contact with Master Henry in months. I swear it.”
    Disbelief lit Edward’s eyes but was soon followed by a jut of his chin that made his face look constructed of granite. His eyes shifted to Elizabeth, who breathed heavily as she worked over her sewing.
    “I assure you—” Mrs. Windham wrung her hands, following his gaze—“Elizabeth has not seen Master Henry either. On my troth, she spent the entire of last Sunday by my side.”
    Shifting his weight, Edward gave me a sidelong glance. Severity tightened his features yet further. His gaze travelled over my face and dress, where he lingered the longest over the patch on my elbow.
    My fingers lost the needle, obliging me to search my skirts. Tears blurred my eyes, but I forced aside the pain. I would never allow myself to feel anything again.
    “Perhaps it was one of the Wilsons,” Mrs. Windhamsuggested when silence filled the room. “The more I consider it, the more convinced I am it must have been them. For I am certain we stumbled upon Mr. Wilson and Henry quarrelling only last Tuesday. Did we not, Elizabeth?”
    Elizabeth merely gave her mother a flippant look.
    “You must tell your parents it was the Wilsons.” Mrs. Windham took Edward’s arm and motioned him to the door. “Make certain they know I would never condone such behavior. No, indeed, even should he call in person, I would not open my door to Henry, but refuse him on the grounds of . . . your . . . parents’ . . .”
    Head bent, I waited to hear Edward’s departing footsteps, but as Mrs. Windham’s babble died, I slowly drew my eyes upwards.
    Edward stood regarding me, his fingers crushing the brim of his hat. The tendons in his neck stood out as he spoke. “Forgive the bold inquiry, Miss Elliston. You’re here. Why?”
    Even had the thickness in my throat not forbidden speech, I should not have answered him. He had betrayed me, but that he should glower at me as if I were the traitor was unbearable. I returned his withering stare, then returned my focus to my sewing.
    It was Mrs. Windham who finally filled the void. “Ah, I see you remember Miss Elliston. Did I neglect to mention her parents’ passing and that she was coming to visit?”
    I grew cold and then hot in succession. Her words were salt to a raw wound, for it wouldn’t take him long to guess the reason why I’d come. But he seemed to scarcely note that I was now alone in the world.
    “Yes, you did fail to mention it.” His tone became stern as he looked at Elizabeth. “As did your daughter. Did you likewise