Fiona touched Eliza’s hand. “I fear to leave you alone with that man for a moment, my girl.”
“I will be all right. Do not worry.”
Eliza turned Fiona toward the front door and the faithful servant hurried away.
When she turned back inside the room, and sat across from Hollen, he looked over at her without an ounce of sympathy. He rose and went to the mirror on the wall. Then he adjusted his neckcloth.
“I’m glad you sent your servant out of the room. But she eavesdropped by the door and should be punished for it.” He turned back to her with a proud lift of his head. “Now back to our business.”
“How do I know you are not lying to me, Mr. Hollen?” said Eliza. “Your claim is farfetched.”
“I have proof.” He drew from his coat an uneven stack of yellowed pages, worn at the edges and tied together with coarse brown twine. He flung out his hand and showed her one. She glanced at it and saw the fine handwriting that was her own. With her heart swelling in her breast, she took it in her hand, paused a moment, then unfolded the page. It took her back many years, and she remembered the day she wrote this particular missive. Her eyes drifted down the page.
Forgive me, Hayward, as I have forgiven you. Please allow me to come home. We can begin again with God’s help. I know what you did was done in haste and anger. You were hurt and acted on your pain. Do not keep Darcy from me. No matter what I have done, it is wrong to keep her from her mother.
Crushed that Hayward never replied, she refolded the page and fought the burn of tears coming up in her eyes. An old wound had been begun to weep, and she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. There had been no resolution, and she was forced to go these many years without Darcy, forced to hold onto the memory of her face, and the agony of constantly thinking of her, wondering how she fared.
“How did your client come by these?”
“That I do not know.”
Bewildered, Eliza gripped the letter until her hand shook. “Is your client Hayward?” Dear God, let it not be so. Could he add any more salt to this wound I carry?
“Rest assured he is not. Still, I am not at liberty to reveal his name.” Hollen spoke with an air of amusement, but looked as serious as the mission he undertook.
“Whoever he is, he has no right to them. They are my letters. What kind of evil person is your client? And you, for that matter?” Inflamed, Eliza stepped up to Hollen and ripped the letters out of his greasy hand. Then, before he could stop her, she tossed them into the hearth fire. They curled, blackened at the retreating edges.
Hollen’s brows shot up and his mouth fell open. “That was pointless, Mrs. Morgan,” he shouted. “My client shall be furious.”
Eliza put her hands to her breast and glanced at Hollen. “I do not care how he feels.”
“You should. He has you in his power to do with you as he pleases.”
“The letters are destroyed. He can do nothing to me,” she said, trembling.
Hollen muttered under his breath a few harsh words and shook his head. “My client is not an idiot, madam.”
“His plan to harm me and extort money from Ethan is over. Now, leave this house at once.”
“You think him such a fool as to give me all the letters?”
Shocked, she drew in a breath. “What?”
“There are others in his possession, which he is sure to make known if you do not pay.”
“If he is so vile to carry out his threat, he will reap God’s judgment for it in the end. I am a woman living in my grief. Has he no sympathy for my despair?”
“The remaining letters shall be given to your daughter, who resides at Havendale for a short while, I am told. It is my understanding you do not wish to make contact with her due to the nature of your sinful life. She would be tainted, no doubt. Since you are refusing my client’s offer, she will soon know you are alive, that her father cast you out, and that you have rejected her, knowing she is near. In turn, whatever tender feelings she has had for a mother she thought long in the grave will die. Once she knows the truth, you will be