Curious towns people peering through the windows, no doubt already spreading word that the barren woman had returned. "Let them stare," Matthew said fiercely, moving closer to Eliza's side. "They're just jealous because you're ours now, and they don't have anyone half as good. " Eliza's heart squeezed at the fierce loyalty in his voice. She rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, my love, but remember, we don't need their approval.
We have each other. " Mrs. Henderson returned with their supplies, packing them with nervous efficiency. As she tallied the cost, the bell chimed again, and Eliza's stomach dropped. Harold Peton's mother swept into the store like a ship under full sail, all rustling black silk and righteous indignation. She'd been in mourning since Harold's death, and apparently planned to wear her grief like armor indefinitely.
Margaret, she addressed Mrs. Henderson without looking at Eliza. I need black thread. And she stopped mids sentence as her eyes landed on Eliza. You.
The word was packed with enough venom to kill a rattlesnake. Eliza kept her expression neutral, her hands folded calmly in front of her. Mrs. Peton, I hope you're well. Well.
The older woman's face flushed an alarming shade of purple. Well, you have the audacity to ask about my well-being when you're standing there dressed like you have some claim to respectability. When everyone knows what you are, that barren ghost who killed my son with her deficiency. Your son died in a riding accident, Eliza said quietly, feeling all three boys tense beside her. I'm sorry for your loss.
Truly, I am. But his death wasn't my fault any more than my inability to conceive was. Inability? Mrs. Peton's voice rose to a screech.
You're cursed. That's what you are. Cursed and useless. And don't you dare talk to our mama that way. Matthew stepped forward, his 9-year-old frame vibrating with rage.
She's not cursed. She's the best mama in the whole territory. And she takes better care of us than you probably ever took care of anybody. Matthew, Eliza said warningly, but Mrs. Peton was already advancing on the boy like an avenging angel.
How dare you speak to me that way, you impuded child. Someone should teach you proper respect for your elders. She reached out as if to grab Matthew's ear, but James was suddenly there, inserting himself between the angry woman and his younger brother. At 12, he was nearly as tall as Mrs. Peton, and he used every inch of that height.