The sharp cry of a newborn pierced the stuffy air of the small bedroom, momentarily drowning out the whispers that had been circulating through the town of Millbrook for days. Eliza Blackwood exhaled slowly, her hands steady as she swaddled the squalling infant. The exhausted mother reached out with trembling arms.
“Is it… is she alright?” Sarah Cooper’s voice was barely audible, her face ashen from the difficult labor.
Eliza’s lips curved into a reassuring smile as she placed the bundle in Sarah’s arms. “She’s perfect. A bit small, but she’s got a strong set of lungs on her.”
Relief washed over Sarah’s features as she gazed down at her daughter. Her husband Thomas, who had been pacing nervously by the window, rushed to her side.
Eliza busied herself cleaning up, giving the new parents a moment of privacy. As she wiped her hands on a damp cloth, she caught snippets of hushed conversation from the hallway outside.
“…found him in the woods…” “…throat slit from ear to ear…” “…never seen anything like it…”
A chill ran down Eliza’s spine, and she shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the murmurs persisted, seeping through the cracks like a noxious vapor.
“Eliza?” Sarah’s weak voice drew her attention back to the bed. “Have you heard? About poor Mr. Wilkins?”
Eliza’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard… rumors. Nothing more.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “It’s true. They found old Wilkins dead in Haxley Wood yesterday morning. Murdered, they say. Cut up something awful.”
“Good Lord,” Eliza murmured, crossing herself reflexively. “Do they know who…?”
“They’ve arrested young Sam Hawthorne,” Thomas replied, his voice low. “Caught him not far from where they found the body, covered in blood.”
Eliza’s heart skipped a beat. Samuel Hawthorne. A name from her past, one she’d hoped never to hear again. She gripped the edge of the washbasin, steadying herself.
“Are you alright, Eliza?” Sarah asked, concern etched on her pale face.
Eliza forced a smile. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long night.” She gathered her things, her mind racing. “You both need rest. I’ll check on you again this evening.”
As she stepped out into the crisp autumn air, Eliza’s composure cracked. Samuel, arrested for murder? It couldn’t be. The Sam she knew was gentle, kind-hearted. But then again, the Sam she knew was from another life, one she’d left behind years ago.
The town was abuzz with activity despite the early hour. Eliza made her way down the main street, her ears catching fragments of excited conversations.
“…Judge Crane himself, coming all the way from Boston…” “…never had a trial like this in Millbrook…” “…hang him from the old oak, mark my words…”
She quickened her pace, eager to reach the sanctuary of her small cottage on the outskirts of town. But as she rounded the corner, she collided with a solid figure.
“My apologies, ma’am,” a deep voice rumbled. Eliza looked up into the stern face of a man she didn’t recognize. He was tall, with graying hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through her.
“No harm done,” she murmured, stepping back.
The man’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I might find Magistrate Holbrook’s residence, would you?”
Eliza pointed down the street. “Third house on the left, the one with the green shutters.”
He nodded curtly. “Much obliged.” As he turned to go, Eliza noticed the fine cut of his coat and the polished walking stick in his hand.
“Excuse me, sir,” she called after him. “Might you be Judge Crane?”
He paused, turning back to her with a raised eyebrow. “I am. And you are?”
“Eliza Blackwood, sir. The midwife.”
Something flickered in his eyes – interest, perhaps, or suspicion. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard your name mentioned. You delivered the Cooper child this morning, did you not?”
Eliza nodded, surprised. “Word travels fast in Millbrook, it seems.”
“Indeed it does, Miss Blackwood.” He studied her for a moment longer. “I suspect we’ll be seeing more of each other in the coming days. Good day to you.”
As Judge Crane strode away, Eliza felt a knot of unease form in her stomach. The arrival of such a prominent figure from Boston could only mean one thing – Samuel’s trial would be no small affair. And with it would come scrutiny, questions… dangers she’d long thought herself safe from.
She hurried home, her mind whirling. As she approached her cottage, a figure detached itself from the shadows of a nearby tree. Eliza’s hand flew to the small knife she kept hidden in the folds of her skirt.
“At ease, Miss Blackwood,” came a familiar voice. “It’s only me.”
Constable Robert Finch stepped into the weak sunlight, his boyish face creased with worry. Eliza relaxed slightly, though her guard remained up. She’d known Robert since he was a lad, had even tended to him during a bout of fever years ago. But his recent appointment as constable had changed him, made him more… ambitious.
“What brings you to my door so early, Constable?” she asked, fishing for her key.
Robert glanced around before leaning in close. “I need your help, Eliza. This murder… it’s bigger than anything I’ve dealt with before. Judge Crane will be watching my every move.”
Eliza sighed, unlocking her door. “I’m a midwife, Robert, not a detective. What could I possibly do to help?”
He followed her inside, closing the door behind them. “You know people, Eliza. They trust you. They tell you things they wouldn’t tell me.”
She busied herself lighting a fire in the hearth, avoiding his eager gaze. “And you want me to… what? Spy on my neighbors? Betray confidences?”
“I want you to help me find the truth,” Robert insisted. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. You know the history, the secrets. If Sam Hawthorne is innocent—”
“And if he’s guilty?” Eliza interrupted, turning to face him. “What then?”
Robert’s jaw tightened. “Then justice must be served. But I need to be certain, Eliza. I can’t have an innocent man’s blood on my hands.”
Eliza studied the young constable. Despite his newfound authority, she could still see traces of the uncertain boy she’d once known. She sighed heavily.
“I’ll keep my ears open,” she conceded. “But I won’t actively seek out information, and I won’t betray anyone’s trust. Is that clear?”
Relief washed over Robert’s face. “Crystal clear. Thank you, Eliza. I knew I could count on you.”
As he left, Eliza sank into a chair by the fire, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. She closed her eyes, and unbidden, memories of another time, another place, flooded her mind. A warm summer night, the sound of laughter, the feel of Sam’s hand in hers…
She shook her head, banishing the thoughts. That was another life, one she’d left behind for good reason. But as sleep finally claimed her, one question lingered: How much of her past would this trial drag into the light?
The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Eliza found herself busier than ever, tending to her usual patients while fielding endless questions about the upcoming trial. It seemed everyone in Millbrook had an opinion on Samuel Hawthorne’s guilt or innocence, and they were all too eager to share it with her.
On the morning of the trial’s commencement, Eliza made her way to the town hall, which had been hastily converted into a makeshift courtroom. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and ripening apples. Under different circumstances, it would have been a pleasant day.
As she approached the building, she saw a crowd already gathering. Whispers and pointed fingers followed her as she made her way inside. Being one of the few educated women in town had always set her apart, but now she felt the weight of their curiosity more keenly than ever.
The interior of the hall was stifling, packed with what seemed like half the town’s population. Eliza squeezed into a seat near the back, her eyes scanning the room. Judge Crane sat at the front, his severe expression a stark contrast to the excitement buzzing through the crowd. To his right, Constable Finch fidgeted nervously, tugging at his collar.
And then, flanked by two grim-faced guards, Samuel Hawthorne was led in.
Eliza’s breath caught in her throat. It had been years since she’d seen him, but time had been kind to Sam. He was still handsome, with those same warm brown eyes she remembered. But there was a weariness to him now, a haunted look that hadn’t been there before.
As if sensing her gaze, Sam’s eyes swept the crowd and locked with hers. For a moment, the years fell away, and Eliza was transported back to a moonlit clearing, the sound of a babbling brook in her ears. Then Sam’s eyes widened in recognition, and the spell was broken.
Judge Crane’s voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. “Order in the court. We are gathered here today to determine the guilt or innocence of Samuel Hawthorne in the matter of the murder of Jeremiah Wilkins.”
Eliza listened with growing unease as the prosecution laid out its case. The evidence against Sam was circumstantial but damning. He had been found near the body, his clothes stained with blood. A knife matching the wounds on Wilkins’ body had been discovered in a hollow log not far from where Sam was apprehended.
Throughout it all, Sam remained silent, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. It was only when Judge Crane asked him directly if he had anything to say in his defense that he finally spoke.
“I didn’t kill Jeremiah Wilkins,” Sam said, his voice steady. “I found him already dead and tried to help. That’s how I got the blood on me.”
A ripple of disbelief ran through the crowd. Eliza found herself leaning forward, straining to catch every word.
“And why, Mr. Hawthorne, did you not immediately alert the authorities?” Judge Crane asked, his tone skeptical.
Sam’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I panicked. I knew how it would look. I have… a history with the law. I thought no one would believe me.”
As the questioning continued, Eliza’s mind raced. She knew about Sam’s past – the petty thefts, the brawls that had led him to flee their hometown years ago. But murder? It seemed impossible.
The trial stretched on for hours, with witness after witness taking the stand. Most were character witnesses, painting Sam as a troublemaker, a drifter with a quick temper. But none could definitively place him at the scene of the crime.
As the sun began to set, Judge Crane called for an adjournment. “We will reconvene tomorrow morning,” he announced. “Until then, the accused will remain in custody.”
As the crowd began to disperse, Eliza found herself moving against the tide, pushing her way towards the front of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, only that she couldn’t leave without…
“Eliza?”
She turned to find Constable Finch at her elbow, his brow furrowed. “Is everything alright?”
Eliza hesitated, glancing towards where Sam was being led away. “I… I need to speak with the accused. Privately.”
Robert’s frown deepened. “Eliza, you know I can’t allow that. It’s highly irregular, and Judge Crane would have my hide.”
“Please, Robert,” she implored, lowering her voice. “It’s important. I may have information that could help your investigation.”
The young constable wavered, clearly torn between his duty and his trust in Eliza. Finally, he sighed. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you. And I’ll be right outside the door.”
Relief washed over her. “Thank you, Robert. I won’t forget this.”
He led her to a small antechamber where Sam was being held before transport back to the jail. As the door closed behind her, Eliza found herself face to face with the man she’d once thought she’d spend her life with.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Sam’s eyes roamed her face, a mix of emotions playing across his features.
“Lizzy,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
The old nickname sent a jolt through her. “Nor I you, Sam. Certainly not like this.”
He took a step towards her, then seemed to think better of it. “What are you doing here? In Millbrook, I mean.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Last I heard, you were headed west.”
A shadow crossed Sam’s face. “Plans change. Life happens.” He paused, studying her. “You look well, Lizzy. Respectable.”
There was no mockery in his tone, only a hint of sadness. Eliza felt a lump form in her throat. “Sam, did you kill Jeremiah Wilkins?”
His eyes met hers, unwavering. “No. I swear it, Lizzy. On everything we once meant to each other, I’m innocent.”
Eliza searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But all she saw was the same earnest honesty she remembered from their youth. “Then why were you in Haxley Wood that night?”
Sam’s gaze dropped. “I was… meeting someone. A friend. We were planning to leave town together.”
“A friend?” Eliza couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.
“It’s not what you think,” Sam said quickly. “Mary Wilkins. Jeremiah’s wife.”
Eliza’s eyes widened. “Sam, do you realize how that sounds? If the court finds out—”
“I know,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s not like that. Mary… she was trying to escape. Jeremiah, he…” Sam trailed off, his jaw clenching.
Understanding dawned on Eliza. She’d treated Mary Wilkins for various “accidents” over the years, each explanation more implausible than the last. “He was hurting her.”
Sam nodded grimly. “She couldn’t take it anymore. We were going to leave, start fresh somewhere else. But when I got to our meeting place, I found Jeremiah instead. He was already dead.”
Eliza’s mind whirled with the implications. If Sam was telling the truth, it changed everything. But it also meant…
A sharp knock at the door made them both jump. “Time’s up,” came Robert’s muffled voice.
Eliza stepped closer to Sam, lowering her voice. “I believe you. And I’m going to help prove your innocence. But Sam, you have to trust me. Don’t say anything about Mary to anyone else. Not yet.”
Relief flooded Sam’s features. He reached out, his fingers brushing her arm. “Thank you, Lizzy. I knew if anyone would believe me, it’d be you.”
As Eliza left the room, her heart pounding, she nearly collided with Judge Crane. The older man’s eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed appearance.
“Miss Blackwood,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “I wasn’t aware you had any official business with the accused.”
Eliza straightened, meeting his gaze. “I was simply checking on Mr. Hawthorne’s health, Your Honor. As the town’s midwife, I have a duty of care to all residents, prisoners included.”
Judge Crane studied her for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through her. “Indeed. How… conscientious of you. I trust you found nothing amiss?”
“Nothing requiring immediate attention,” Eliza replied, fighting to keep her voice steady.
The judge nodded slowly. “Very well. Good evening, Miss Blackwood.”
As he walked away, Eliza let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She had the distinct feeling that she’d just been tested – and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d passed.
The next morning dawned grey and drizzly, matching Eliza’s mood perfectly. She’d spent a restless night turning over Sam’s words in her mind, trying to piece together a plan. If Mary Wilkins was indeed the key to Sam’s innocence, Eliza needed to find her – and quickly.
As she made her way through the muddy streets towards the Wilkins residence, Eliza couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, but saw nothing out of the ordinary – just townsfolk hurrying about their business, eager to get out of the rain.
The Wilkins house stood apart from its neighbors, a looming structure that had seen better days. Eliza hesitated at the gate, steeling herself. She’d never much cared for Jeremiah Wilkins in life; in death, his presence seemed to linger like a bad smell.
She knocked firmly on the door, running through possible approaches in her mind. After a long moment, she heard shuffling from within. The door creaked open, revealing Mary Wilkins’ wan face.
“Eliza?” Mary’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning, Mary,” Eliza said gently. “I wanted to check on you, see how you’re holding up. May I come in?”
Mary hesitated, glancing nervously over her shoulder before nodding and stepping aside. The interior of the house was dim and musty, heavy curtains drawn against the grey morning light. Eliza followed Mary into the sitting room, noting the woman’s nervous movements, the way her eyes darted about.
“Can I get you some tea?” Mary asked, her hands fluttering like trapped birds.
Eliza shook her head. “No, thank you. Mary, I need to talk to you about what happened to your husband.”
The change in Mary was immediate. She seemed to shrink in on herself, sinking onto a faded settee. “I’ve already told the constable everything I know,” she murmured.
“I’m not here on behalf of the constable,” Eliza said, taking a seat across from her. “I’m here as a friend. Mary, I need you to tell me the truth. About Jeremiah, about Sam Hawthorne… all of it.”
Mary’s head snapped up, fear evident in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sam Hawthorne is nothing to me.”
Eliza leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Mary, I know. About the abuse, about your plans to leave with Sam. He told me everything.”
For a moment, Mary looked like she might bolt from the room. Then, like a dam breaking, words began to pour out of her. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she sobbed. “We were just going to leave, start over somewhere new. But Jeremiah… he found out somehow. He was waiting for Sam in the woods.”
Eliza’s heart raced. This was it – the truth that could save Sam. “What happened next, Mary?”
Mary’s hands twisted in her lap. “I followed Jeremiah. I was afraid of what he might do to Sam. When I got there, they were fighting. Jeremiah had a knife. He was going to kill Sam, I know it. So I… I picked up a rock. I just wanted to stop him, to give Sam a chance to get away. But when I hit Jeremiah, he… he fell. There was so much blood.”
Eliza closed her eyes, the pieces falling into place. “And Sam? Where was he when this happened?”
“He tried to help,” Mary whispered. “He tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. He told me to run, said he’d take care of everything. I was so scared, Eliza. I just ran and ran.”
Eliza reached out, taking Mary’s trembling hands in her own. “Mary, listen to me. You need to tell the court what really happened. It was self-defense. You were protecting Sam, protecting yourself.”
Mary shook her head violently. “I can’t. They’ll hang me for sure. And what about my children? What will happen to them?”
“If you don’t speak up, an innocent man will hang in your place,” Eliza said firmly. “Is that what you want? For Sam to die for a crime he didn’t commit?”
Before Mary could respond, a sharp knock at the door made them both jump. Eliza’s heart sank as she heard a familiar voice call out.
“Mrs. Wilkins? It’s Constable Finch. I need to speak with you.”
Mary’s eyes widened in panic. Eliza squeezed her hands. “It’s alright. Just stay calm. Don’t say anything about what you’ve told me. I’ll find a way to fix this, I promise.”
As Mary went to answer the door, Eliza’s mind raced. She needed time to think, to plan. But with Robert here, that time was quickly running out.
The constable’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he entered the sitting room. “Eliza? What are you doing here?”
“Just checking on Mrs. Wilkins,” Eliza said smoothly. “As I’m sure you can understand, she’s been through quite an ordeal.”
Robert nodded, though his eyes remained suspicious. “Of course. Mrs. Wilkins, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have a few more questions about the night your husband died. Some… new information has come to light.”
Mary sank back onto the settee, her face pale. “What sort of information?”
Robert glanced at Eliza, clearly debating whether to speak in front of her. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. “We’ve received word that your husband may have been… aware of a relationship between you and the accused, Samuel Hawthorne.”
The color drained from Mary’s face. Eliza stepped in quickly. “Constable, surely you can see Mrs. Wilkins is in no state for this kind of questioning. Perhaps we could reconvene at a later time?”
Robert’s jaw tightened. “I’m afraid this can’t wait, Eliza. Judge Crane is expecting my report this afternoon.” He turned back to Mary. “Mrs. Wilkins, I need you to tell me the truth. Were you and Samuel Hawthorne planning to leave town together?”
Mary’s eyes darted to Eliza, panic clear in her gaze. Eliza gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Taking a deep breath, Mary squared her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “We were.”
Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “I see. And did your husband know about this plan?”
Mary’s hands twisted in her lap. “He… he found out. Somehow. That’s why he was in the woods that night. He was waiting for Sam.”
Eliza held her breath, silently willing Mary to continue, to tell the whole truth. But the other woman fell silent, her eyes downcast.
Robert scribbled furiously in his notebook. “This changes everything,” he muttered. “Mrs. Wilkins, I’m going to need you to come down to the town hall to make a formal statement.”
“Now?” Mary’s voice quavered.
“I’m afraid so,” Robert replied, not unkindly. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
As Robert led Mary from the house, Eliza’s mind whirled. She’d bought some time, but not much. She needed to act fast if she was going to save both Sam and Mary.
Making a split-second decision, Eliza slipped out of the house and hurried towards the town hall. She had to get to Judge Crane before Robert and Mary arrived. It was a long shot, but it was the only plan she had.
The rain had picked up, soaking through Eliza’s shawl as she half-ran through the muddy streets. By the time she reached the town hall, she was breathless and bedraggled. She ignored the curious stares of the clerks as she made her way to Judge Crane’s temporary office.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked firmly on the door.
“Enter,” came the judge’s stern voice.
Eliza stepped into the small room, her heart pounding. Judge Crane looked up from his papers, surprise flickering across his features.
“Miss Blackwood,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
Eliza straightened her spine, meeting the judge’s piercing gaze. “Your Honor, I have information about the Wilkins murder. Information that could change everything.”
Judge Crane’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? And what, pray tell, is the nature of this information?”
“It concerns the true identity of Jeremiah Wilkins’ killer,” Eliza said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. “But before I say more, I need your assurance that justice will be served fairly, regardless of who the guilty party might be.”
The judge studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. “You have my word, Miss Blackwood. Now, please, enlighten me.”
Taking a deep breath, Eliza began to speak. She told Judge Crane everything – about Mary and Sam’s plan to escape, about Jeremiah’s discovery and violent reaction, about Mary’s desperate act to save Sam’s life. As she spoke, she watched the judge’s face carefully, looking for any sign of his thoughts.
When she finished, silence fell over the small office. Judge Crane steepled his fingers, his brow furrowed in thought.
“This is… quite the tale, Miss Blackwood,” he said at last. “But I must ask – how did you come by this information? And why bring it to me directly, rather than to the constable?”
Eliza hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “I… have a history with Samuel Hawthorne, Your Honor. We grew up in the same town. When I heard of his arrest, I couldn’t believe he was capable of such a crime. I began asking questions, piecing things together.”
“I see,” Judge Crane murmured. “And you believe this version of events to be the truth?”
“I do, Your Honor,” Eliza said firmly. “Mary Wilkins acted in defense of herself and Samuel Hawthorne. It was a tragic accident, not a premeditated murder.”
The judge was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Eliza’s face. She fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.
Finally, he spoke. “Your dedication to uncovering the truth is… admirable, Miss Blackwood. However, I hope you understand the gravity of what you’re suggesting. Accusing a widow of killing her husband is no small matter.”
“I understand, Your Honor,” Eliza replied. “But surely an innocent man hanging for a crime he didn’t commit is an even graver matter.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Judge Crane’s mouth. “Indeed it is.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “I’ll tell you this, Miss Blackwood – I had my suspicions about this case from the start. Something didn’t quite add up. Your information, if it can be corroborated, could indeed change everything.”
Relief washed over Eliza. “Thank you, Your Honor. What happens now?”
Judge Crane stood, straightening his robes. “Now, we wait for Constable Finch to bring Mrs. Wilkins in for questioning. I believe they should be arriving shortly.” He fixed Eliza with a stern look. “I trust you’ll keep this conversation between us for the time being?”
Eliza nodded quickly. “Of course, Your Honor.”
As if on cue, a commotion could be heard from the hallway outside. The door burst open, revealing a flustered Constable Finch.
“Your Honor,” he panted, “I’ve brought Mrs. Wilkins for questioning. She’s made some… startling admissions.”
Judge Crane’s eyes flicked to Eliza, then back to Robert. “Indeed? Well then, let’s not keep the lady waiting. Miss Blackwood, I believe your expertise may be needed. Would you care to join us?”
Eliza’s heart leapt. This was it – the moment of truth. As she followed Judge Crane and Constable Finch from the office, she sent up a silent prayer. For Sam, for Mary, for justice to prevail.
The next few hours passed in a blur of testimonies and tears. Mary, faced with the weight of her actions and the prospect of Sam hanging for her crime, finally broke down and confessed everything. Judge Crane, true to his word, listened with an impartial ear, asking pointed questions but never passing judgment.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the windows of the makeshift courtroom, Judge Crane called for order.
“In light of the new evidence presented,” he announced, his voice carrying through the hushed room, “I hereby declare Samuel Hawthorne innocent of the murder of Jeremiah Wilkins. He is to be released immediately.”
A murmur ran through the assembled crowd. Eliza felt tears of relief prick at her eyes.
“As for Mrs. Mary Wilkins,” the judge continued, “while her actions resulted in the death of her husband, the circumstances clearly point to self-defense and defense of another. She will be placed under house arrest pending a full investigation, but I see no reason at this time to pursue charges of murder.”
As the courtroom erupted into excited chatter, Eliza sagged in her seat, the tension of the past days finally leaving her body. She’d done it. She’d saved them both.
A hand on her shoulder made her look up. Sam stood there, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Lizzy,” he said softly, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Eliza stood, a bittersweet smile on her face. “You don’t have to thank me, Sam. I’m just glad the truth came out.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “What happens now?”
Eliza glanced across the room, where Mary sat surrounded by her children, all of them weeping with relief. “Now? Now you both get a second chance. Don’t waste it.”
Sam’s eyes searched her face. “And you? What about us?”
Eliza felt a pang in her heart, but she shook her head gently. “There is no ‘us’, Sam. Not anymore. Too much has changed. But I’ll always care for you, and I’ll always be glad I could help.”
Understanding and a touch of sadness flickered in Sam’s eyes. He nodded slowly, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “You always were too good for me, Lizzy. Thank you. For everything.”
As Sam walked away to speak with Mary and her children, Eliza felt a presence at her side. Judge Crane stood there, watching the scene with an unreadable expression.
“Well, Miss Blackwood,” he said quietly, “it seems Millbrook owes you a debt of gratitude. Your persistence and insight have prevented a grave miscarriage of justice.”
Eliza flushed slightly at the praise. “I only did what I thought was right, Your Honor.”
The judge turned to her, a hint of a smile on his stern face. “Sometimes, Miss Blackwood, that is the most difficult thing of all.” He paused, studying her. “Have you ever considered pursuing a career in law?”
Eliza blinked in surprise. “I… can’t say that I have, Your Honor.”
“Perhaps you should,” he replied. “The world could use more minds like yours in the pursuit of justice.” With a small nod, he turned and strode away, leaving Eliza to ponder his words.
As she made her way out of the town hall and into the cool evening air, Eliza felt a sense of peace settle over her. The truth had come out, justice had been served, and maybe – just maybe – she’d found a new path for herself in the process.
The stars were just beginning to appear in the darkening sky as Eliza walked home. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new patients, new lives to usher into the world. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction. In a world often shrouded in shades of grey, she’d managed to shine a light on the truth. And in doing so, she’d not only saved two lives, but perhaps discovered her true calling.
With a small smile, Eliza turned her face to the stars and whispered a quiet thank you to whatever force had guided her through this ordeal. Then, squaring her shoulders, she continued on her way home, ready to face whatever the future might bring.