The Guilty Lady chapter one

The Guilty Lady
by Beth Heart



This story is a work of fiction and does not give proper respect to historical fact.


Chapter  One

Some miles north of San Francisco, Elizabeth Whitley wished very much for the stagecoach to get to it's destination. The rock and jostle of the primitive wood and leather coach was in no way an improvement over the train. She sat up straight, the lace at her throat still fresh, though she wasn't exactly sure how anything stayed fresh as the heat continued to rise. There were two great loves in the heart of Elizabeth Whitley. The first was justice. The second was reason.

She refused to fidget.  Opportunity came to those to reached out to grab said opportunity.

Since the last town, she had not had the coach to herself.  The gentleman she shared the coach with was not the sort she'd ever had much contact with. A lean man, graceful, his hands played constantly with cards. Shuffling with one hand, cutting the cards, moving them around in ways that Elizabeth had no name for, he obviously was quiet attached to them.  She watched him as subtly as she could. He had dark hair, clean, just a little longer than a man should be wearing his hair. Blue eyes, dark in an unusual way, more violet, perhaps blue as the very last hint of sunset might be blue, and they were quiet beautiful, which was probably why he caught her looking at him.

"Miss." He smirked, deftly putting his cards back inside a silver case, then back into his inside jacket pocket. Voice deep and inviting, he asked, "Going to Gold Stone?"

"Yes, actually." She tugged nervously at the edge of a gray kid glove. "Yourself, sir?"

Sitting across from her, he scooted a little more towards her side. She sat up a little bit more, as if she could scoot back farther into the thinly padded seat. He leaned forward, forearm on his knee, and grinned. "The new school marm?"

"Hardly." She straightened the thin gray wool of her skirt, keeping her black leather shoes under the edge of her skirt.

"Are you an English miss?"

Hands in her lap, she looked at him sternly, gray eyes sizing him up. "I am recently arrived from London." She paused for a moment, then held out her hand, not for him to kiss her knuckles, but offering a hand to shake like a man. "I am Elizabeth Whitley, solicitor." It was the first time she'd actually said it out loud. There was every reason it ought to be true, no reasonable reason that it shouldn't, and she was certainly going to make it true with every fiber of her being.

"Solicitor? Like a," he leaned back, arms across his chest, violet eyes widening, "lawyer?"

He coughed then and she could have sworn she heard the word 'snake' under his cough. She narrowed her eyes, scowling. "Yes, sir, exactly like that. There is no higher calling than justice."

"Um." He rubbed the side of his mouth with a thumb, nodding conciliatory. "So they let the fairer sex argue in courtrooms, do they? I haven't seen no lady lawyers in any courtrooms yet."

"Oh?" She smiled, a thin lipped baited smile, her hand still held out to shake. "Do spent a lot of time in courtrooms, Mr.?"

"Mr. Drake," he admitted before taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. "Miss? Mrs.?"

She took a deep breath, trying to to give away that she was doing so. "Whitley. Just Whitley." She hadn't planned on being just Whitley. Really, most of the people she'd known all her life had just called her Elizabeth. Her parents had left her and her twin brother a considerable fortune. Her Aunt Charlotte had been their guardian and she had been probably more lax than one ought to be with intelligent young souls. Both had studied at home, with the same tutor. Latin, French, history, mathematics, science, and even smatterings of law had been their daily fair. The twins shared books, exercises. They rode together in the mornings, studied in the afternoon, and spent the evenings reading a fortune in books.

And then they grew up.

Robert went to Oxford. Elizabeth went to the dressmaker. She was told she'd need a new wardrobe if she was to get a suitable husband.

The attraction of the opposite sex was not lost on Elizabeth. Neither were the risks thereof. A child out of wedlock would have been unthinkable. While she had no particular attachment to her virginity, she had a considerable attachment to her freedom.

When Robert came home for his first holiday, he spoke of law and justice, and the power it had to form society. Elizabeth fell quite in love. With more than a little wheedling and demanding she found herself allowed to sit quietly at the back of Robert's classes. Learning, writing papers, well, that was one thing, a very nice thing, but not exactly the same as being able to take clients.

California was a great many miles away from London. "Are you a card sharp, Mr. Drake?"

He tilted his head, smiled. "Sometimes. So what brings you to Gold Stone?"

"I have come to save an innocent woman's life," she said firmly.