Loving Lizzie Finn

17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

L izzie sat on her bed, reading her mother’s journal. Now that she’d discovered the shocking truth about who her father was, she pursued the diary more slowly, attempting to understand her mother better.

After a few quick raps, Emma opened Lizzie’s bedroom door and rushed inside. “Miss Finn. Miss Finn.” She took one look at Lizzie and began to pace the floor in front of the bed, a distraught expression on her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this would happen. I thought I was doing what was best.”

Lizzie set aside the journal and stood. “What are you talking about?”

Emma continued to pace. “You and your uncle used to get along so well until Mr. Greeley started coming around. I thought perhaps it would be best if you didn’t see him anymore. After all, your uncle doesn’t like him, and you yourself told him to stay away.”

“Emma, what are you trying to tell me?”

Emma stopped in front of Lizzie and wrung her hands. “Oh, miss. I told your uncle that Mr. Greeley approached you in the park.”

Lizzie tensed, and an icy shiver raced over her skin. She’d hoped Byron’s excuse for speaking to her had put the preacher at ease. Stupidly, she’d never worried about Emma telling Teague. She’d thought she could trust her maid to stay silent. Now, with Emma so apologetic … “What did my uncle say?”

Emma wrung her hands all the more. “The problem isn’t what he said. It’s what he’s done.”

That icy shiver turned into an all-encompassing chill. “What has he done?”

“I overheard him talking to a brutish man in his study.” Emma worried her lip.

“Emma! Tell me.”

“It sounded as though he roughed up Mr. Greeley at your uncle’s request.”

No. Lizzie left the room and headed for the study where she listened outside the closed door.

“I can’t say I’m satisfied with how you left things,” Teague told someone.

“Forcing him on a train out of the city would only result in his swift return,” another male voice explained. “Still, given the state we left him in, and with his shop in ruins, he’ll think twice before he approaches Miss Finn again.”

Lizzie’s heart squeezed tight. How badly was Byron hurt? She returned to her room for her coat and hat then quickly snuck out of the house. She found a hack to take her to Greeley & Company, and as soon as she arrived, she raced through the building’s entrance and up the steps to the third floor.

The room was a shambles with worktables overturned, products and tools scattered everywhere, and … Byron lying on his side near the wall. Her stomach dropped to the floor, and she rushed over to him. “Byron.”

He blinked open his eyes. “Lizzie?”

His face was bloodied and bruised. Her insides twisted into a painful knot—Teague had done this because of her.

When he sat up, he groaned and clutched his side. She couldn’t resist. She gently encircled her arms around him and leaned in close, so thankful he was awake and talking. That had to be a good sign, not that she was an expert by any means. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“My family can summon Dr. Fletcher.”

“Then I’ll take you home. Can you stand?”

“I’ll try.”

He rose on wobbly legs, and Lizzie held him about the waist to keep him steady.

He scanned the room. “I hope we can put this place back to rights without too much cost.”

“Don’t worry about that now. Your wounds need to be tended first.” She wrapped his arm over her shoulders and assisted him forward while he continued to survey the scene.

“Nothing was stolen. I’ll have to come up with a reasonable excuse for what happened.”

Lizzie shook her head. “It’s about time you told your family and workers the truth. After all, they’ll find out soon enough when the loan comes due. Would you rather it be a sudden shock?”

Byron let out a sigh. “No, you’re right. I have to tell them.”

They left the workshop and hired a hack. Lizzie helped him to climb in, and once they were both seated, Byron lowered his head to her shoulder. Seeing him in so much pain broke her heart, and she settled a kiss on his brow. If only there was more she could do to give him comfort. His sweet smile warmed her.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

“You saw me just this afternoon, and it resulted in Teague having you beaten,” she reminded him.

He grasped her hand, and his thumb brushed over her glove, the stroke sending tingles along her palm. “It was worth it since I have you with me again,” he insisted.

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “Liar.”

He closed his eyes. “It’s true. My day is always better anytime I can be with you.”

Such sweet words even at a time like this. “You’ve been soundly thrashed, and still you joke.”

“I’m not joking, and don’t worry. I’ll recover. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

He took his injuries too lightly. “You were knocked unconscious. I won’t be satisfied until you’re seen by a doctor.”

They arrived at the Greeleys’ home, and Lizzie helped Byron inside. When they entered the sitting room on their way to Byron’s bedroom, his mother abandoned her mending and rose from the settee, her eyes wide. “Byron, what happened to you?”

“I was attacked in the workshop.”

“Byron said you have a doctor you can summon,” Lizzie prompted. He’d best be seen as soon as possible.

“Yes, of course. I’ll send someone to fetch him.” Mrs. Greeley hurried from the room while Lizzie assisted Byron to his bedroom and helped him recline on his bed.

She sat next to him and began to unbutton his vest. “Where are the worst of your injuries? Let me see them. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

He grabbed her arms to stop her. “My mother will be back soon.”

“You’re hurt. I want to help you.”

“The doctor will treat my wounds.”

“What is going on in here?” Byron’s mother entered the room, her glare focused on Lizzie’s hands still clutching a vest button.

Heat seared Lizzie’s cheeks. She released him and stood. “I was assessing his injuries.”

“That won’t be necessary. Dr. Fletcher will treat him.” Mrs. Greeley pointed toward the door. “You should go home.”

Mrs. Greeley certainly had the right to ask her to leave. Lizzie glanced at Byron, his cheek a dark shade of purple. “I can leave this room, but would it be all right if I stayed until the doctor is done assessing Byron’s injuries?”

Byron grasped her arm and addressed his mother. “Don’t be so dismissive of Lizzie. She helped me get home today.” He stared up at Lizzie with tenderness. “And with any luck, she’ll one day be my wife.”

“We disagree on that point.” Mrs. Greeley rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want to discuss that now. Instead, tell me who attacked you and why.”

Byron’s gaze connected with Lizzie’s, and she nodded, encouraging him.

“I made a mistake while running Greeley & Company, and it infuriated Eldon Teague, the president of The Boston Trust Company bank.” Byron scowled. “He manipulated our loan, so we owe a good deal more than what was agreed upon.”

Mrs. Greeley gasped. “Can we fight the bank?”

“We have no proof,” Byron admitted. “My copy of the agreement was stolen.”

“I don’t understand.” His mother’s brow furrowed. “If we are already required to pay more, why were you attacked?”

Byron’s expression turned sheepish. “Teague doesn’t like that I’m interested in Lizzie.”

“Another reason why you two shouldn’t be together,” Mrs. Greeley grumbled.

“Don’t say that.” Byron sat up in bed, wincing as he did so. “Lizzie has been there for me countless times. She been looking for evidence with me and defending me against Teague.” Gratitude and admiration gleamed in his eyes. “Even though she initially thought he wouldn’t do such a thing as tamper with a loan, she’s helped me every step of the way.”

Mrs. Greeley studied Lizzie for a moment, her glare softening.

“Just as I never thought he would have you beaten,” Lizzie muttered. Then again, hadn’t he done the same to Declan Finn? “You need to report what happened at Greeley & Company to the police.”

“I agree,” his mother put in.

“I intend to, but I don’t expect anything will come of it,” Byron admitted. “I have no proof he was the one who sent those thugs after me, and even if the police arrest them, they’re not likely to admit to their true reasons for their actions.”

“I could be a witness,” Lizzie pointed out. “I overheard Teague talking to someone about what they did to you.”

Byron shook his head. “It would be your word against his.”

Mrs. Greeley waved away the suggestion. “If you testify against him, your uncle might vent his frustrations on Byron. He had Byron beaten once. Would you have him kill my son next time?”

A lump formed in Lizzie’s throat. Teague would never go to that extent, would he?

His mother released a sigh and rubbed her temples. “How soon is the money due?”

Byron’s shoulders sagged. “We have less than a week left.”

“Do we have the money? What will happen if we don’t pay?” his mother half whispered.

“I’m doing my best to resolve the matter, but honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to come up with the money, and I don’t have the evidence I need against Teague,” Byron admitted.

His mother stared up at the ceiling and muttered under her breath for several seconds. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“With Father being sick and all, I didn’t want to worry either of you.”

Lizzie’s insides roiled. Damn Teague and his treachery. He should never have made that side deal with Mr. Greeley in the first place. Using bank business to further his own personal gains … She had to do something, but what?

A voice called out from another part of the house. Mrs. Greeley’s attention flew toward the door. “That must be Dr. Fletcher. I’ll go get him,” she said as she left the room.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Lizzie mumbled, but she took a deep breath and forged onward. “I’ll see if I can get the key to Teague’s safe. I worry that this is a mistake, but I see no other option.”

Byron’s expression brightened. “You will?”

Against her better judgment. “I’ll get the key for you on one condition. You must let me go with you to the bank.”

“No. It’s too risky. I don’t want you to take that chance.”

Instead, he would take all the risks himself? She couldn’t let that happen. “If I’m there with the employee you mentioned, between the two of us, perhaps we can provide an excuse for you if we get caught.”

“I don’t like it.”

That didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be dissuaded. “I’ll try to get the key. Once I have it, you can decide if you agree to my terms or not.”

Byron scowled once more, but she ignored the look. Perhaps it was time to take drastic measures, and she wouldn’t let Byron take them alone. They were in this dilemma together, and she would do everything in her power to keep him safe.

The hiss of the glowing streetlamps breaking the silence, Byron stood in the shadows down the street from The Boston Trust Company Bank, Cedric Price beside him. Had Lizzie run into trouble getting the key from Teague? He checked his watch again. Half past eleven, and she still wasn’t here. He’d offered to walk her to the bank, but she hadn’t wanted him to risk being seen anywhere near her house.

“Maybe she’s not coming,” Mr. Price pointed out.

Byron shook his head. “She’ll be here.” She was clever and trustworthy. She would arrive any moment now. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than a woman came around the corner and approached them. Despite the dim light, he’d recognize that figure anywhere.

Lizzie scanned the area as she walked and soon met them in the shadows. “I’ve got the key.”

“Good. Give me five minutes to coax the guard over to my desk,” Mr. Price instructed as he headed for the bank.

Byron studied Lizzie’s worried expression. “Did you have difficulty getting the key?”

Lizzie’s gaze rose to his. “No, my aunt and Teague went to bed a bit later than expected is all.” Her stare roamed over his face. “How are your injuries?”

“Healing.” Although his mother might not think so. She’d hovered around him so much over the last twenty-four hours that he’d worried he’d be discovered sneaking out of the house. He tried to ignore the ever-present ache in his side, but shifting his position only produced a stabbing pain. Perhaps his mother was right. He needed more rest.

He checked his watch again. Only a couple of minutes left. “Give me the key.”

Lizzie’s brows lowered. “I thought we discussed this. I’m going in with you.”

“There’s no need for that. This is Greeley & Company’s problem. You shouldn’t get involved any more than you already are.”

She huffed out a breath. “If anyone should stay outside, it’s you. Not only are you obviously in pain, but my presence can be more easily explained away than yours. Even if I get caught, Teague won’t press charges against me.”

What that true? He wasn’t so certain anymore. “At this point, he’s so frustrated with the both of us I’m not so sure what he’ll do if we get caught.” He gritted his teeth. “I don’t want you to go inside the bank at all, much less alone.”

“Then we go in together,” she reasoned, a smug expression on her face.

Byron suppressed a growl. They had no time to argue. Price was confident he could distract the guard for five minutes, but probably not much more. “Fine. Let’s go. But I’m going in first.”

He led the way to the bank’s front door. The guard had let in Mr. Price. Hopefully, he hadn’t relocked the door yet, though even if he had, Price had given Byron his key.

Byron tried the door, and it opened. His breath caught in his throat, he peered inside. The bank was fully lit within, with no guard in sight. He slipped through the door, and Lizzie followed. They crept to Teague’s office and stole inside. Lizzie produced the key. Her hands shaking, she opened the safe, and they withdrew the documents, quickly rifling through them. Excitement coursed through Byron. Would they finally find the evidence he needed? Perhaps his worries would soon be over.

His excitement quickly ebbed. Nothing. He could find nothing related to his loan or business. No. He must have missed something. This had to be where Teague would hide the evidence. They’d looked everywhere else. Desperation gnawed at Byron’s insides, and he began flipping through the stack again.

Lizzie grabbed up several of the papers and returned them to the safe.

“Wait.” Byron reached for them, but Lizzie gathered the rest that lay on the floor.

“Byron, there’s nothing here. We need to go. Mr. Price won’t be able to distract the guard much longer.”

Yes, if they didn’t leave now, they’d likely be caught. Still … he scanned the safe one more time. This had been his last hope. If he failed to find proof of Teague’s treachery, Greeley & Company would come to an end, to be sold to pay the loan or through bankruptcy, which would destroy their reputation.

He’d taken over management of his father’s company only to bring it to ruin within months. Would his family ever forgive him? Would he ever forgive himself?

Had Teague destroyed all the evidence related to the Greeleys’ loan? The question had haunted Lizzie since she’d left the bank and headed home.

She crept through the house on her way to Teague and Margaret’s bedroom, her thoughts on any possible location she had yet to search. When she reached their room, she carefully opened the door and raised the candlestick in her hand to light the way. She crept up to the bedside table and reached out to return the key to the spot she’d taken it from earlier in the night.

“What are you doing?”

Lizzie gasped and spun around to find Aunt Margaret in her nightclothes coming through the door with her own candle illuminating the room.

“I-I thought I heard a noise,” Lizzie hurried to explain, saying the first excuse that sprang to mind.

“Lizzie?”

She clenched the key in her fist at the sound of Teague’s groggy voice.

Margaret’s attention dropped to Lizzie’s hand. “What do you have there?”

“N-nothing. Now that I see there’s no mouse or who knows what making noises in here, I’ll be on my way.” She made a move to flee the room, but Aunt Margaret blocked her way.

“You’re fully dressed at this hour of night? Where have you been, and what’s in our hand?”

Lizzie’s mind reeled with possible excuses. “I couldn’t sleep … and decided to go for a walk when I heard a sound—”

“Nonsense!” Aunt Margaret sprang forward and grabbed Lizzie’s hand.

Lizzie tried to pull away, but Margaret pried Lizzie’s fist open.

Teague rose from the bed and snatched the key, turning it over in his hand. “The key to my safe at the bank.” His eyes narrowed, and he pinned Lizzie with a glare. “Why do you have this?”

Margaret cast him an incredulous look. “Isn’t it obvious? She plans to use it to open your safe.” Her gaze swept over Lizzie. “Or perhaps she already has.”

Teague’s expression darkened. “Did you give the key to Greeley?”

“No.” She’d keep Byron out of this discussion as much as she could, or Teague might feel the need to punish him again.

“Whether she has yet or not doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s betrayed you, again,” Aunt Margaret insisted. “She needs to go. How can you have someone in your house who schemes against you time and time again?”

“She’s simply blinded by affection for someone who’s using her for his own gain. Once she sees who Greeley truly is, she’ll come to her senses,” Teague reasoned. “Besides, she’ll be married soon.”

“Not soon enough. She doesn’t deserve my efforts to arrange a good marriage.”

Lizzie almost laughed. A good marriage? More like any marriage, and if the groom happened to be someone Lizzie could never be happy with, all the better.

“What happens when she betrays her husband for Greeley? Our reputation will be in ruins. She’ll be our downfall.” Margaret approached Teague. “It would be best to cut our ties with her now. Send her away.” Now toe-to-toe with him, she swung her hand toward the door and stared him in the eye as if daring him to disagree.

Teague leaned forward until his face was a mere inch from hers. “Lizzie isn’t going anywhere. If anyone should leave, perhaps it should be you. You’ve been unhappy for almost the entirety of our marriage.”

Lizzie’s jaw dropped open. Teague would ask Margaret to leave for her?

Aunt Margaret tensed, and her eyes nearly bulged from her head.

Teague ignored her reaction. “You’re welcome to leave.”

“After all the years I’ve stood by your side, regardless of your actions, regardless of how you’ve humiliated me, you would kick me out of our home?” Margaret fairly screeched.

Teague simply shrugged. “I leave the decision up to you,” he said as he tugged on the bellpull.

Margaret scowled. “I put up with your affair with my sister, with you bringing your illegitimate child home, and this is how you thank me?”

Lizzie edged toward the door. Should she leave—both this room and this house? Perhaps then she wouldn’t be a constant reminder of Teague’s infidelity. Where would she go? To Byron? He had enough to deal with without her adding to his problems.

“In recompense, you’ve lived in a fine house and spent my money freely,” Teague reminded his wife. “I’ve given you plenty of leeway. Ours has never been a marriage built on love.”

“I’m well aware. The only woman you’ve ever loved was Caroline.”

Before Lizzie could escape, a footman came to the door. “Is there something I can do for you, sir, madam?”

“Take Lizzie to her room. She’s to stay there until I give permission to let her out,” Teague ordered.

The footman made no move to touch her. He merely gestured toward the hallway and measured her with a stare.

She could fight him, but what would be the use? No doubt he could overpower her. Instead, she gave a nod and preceded him down the hall as the argument between Teague and her aunt continued behind them.

In truth, no matter if she stayed or left, she would always be a rift between her aunt and Teague … Teague, or rather her father. At some point, she supposed she should come to terms with the fact that he was her father. She could blame him all she wanted for his treatment of her mother and Byron, but that wouldn’t change the truth of her lineage.

She didn’t hate him. He’d been kind to her for most of her life. And honestly, she believed he had loved her mother. Perhaps deep down, her mother had eventually loved him too. Yet, she couldn’t help but be exasperated with him. Throughout his life, he’d made choices to his benefit and to the detriment of others—like marrying a woman he didn’t love. But did that success make him happy? Byron had taught her that people matter more than money. Was it too late for her father to learn that lesson?