Читать книгу Illusion - Emily French - Страница 10

Chapter Two

The question hung in the air. Sophy sat as still as death while she felt her face grow scarlet and then drain of color. Pricked by a sudden doubt, she waited to recover herself before she answered.

“I, too, would like to be honest with you, Mr. Weston. While my father was alive I became accustomed to organizing my own finances. However, my trustees feel that these same funds would be better utilized under the firm control of a husband. I don’t relish the idea of giving up my freedom.”

Sophy’s voice was deceptively calm. Her cheeks were wild roses once more. The thought of being made to play the role she despised so completely infuriated her. Her vexation gave a new charm to her glowing face.

Seth could not fault that sentiment, even if it was a radical one for a woman. “I, too, would want the advantages of being married, without giving up anything of myself,” he assured her.

Sophy’s eyes snapped toward him. For a moment she studied his face. The marks of the past four years were on it, a disturbing intensity in the strong features. While she did not want to appear reluctant to become his wife, she could not help but worry at the bitter edge of cynicism in his voice, the contained tension of his body and the despair reflected in his countenance.

To her surprise, Seth Weston became distinctly uneasy under her assessing scrutiny, and moved restlessly.

For a few seconds they sat looking at each other and then, almost roughly, he said, “Miss van Houten, I had thought this over, of course, but I didn’t realize how it would all sound until I spoke those last words. I think the proposition I just made you is actually insulting, and I hope you’ll excuse me. It was an impulsive thing to do and I’m ashamed of it. So forget it. I’ll see myself out.”

He had the silver knob of his cane in his hand when Sophy found her voice. “Mr. Weston, I would like to accept your offer.”

Seth’s head came up. “You mean you’ll marry me?”

He leaned toward Sophy, his eyes narrowed, as if taking her measure, a measure that somehow puzzled him.

It did. The woman was rich and exceedingly attractive. Why connive an arranged marriage with a man she didn’t know from Adam? He found himself watching her mouth. On lips firm and full, a soft, mysterious, somehow inviting smile bloomed. Behind their protective lashes, a secret, pleased look flared in her eyes. It was an echo of her sensual smile. Seth felt his features lock into an unrevealing mask.

Sophy smiled faintly, finding it difficult to conceal a strong sense of elation. She had succeeded in her plan to break the trust. Now she would have only a single male to contend with... her husband.

Husband. The word made her insides squeeze all sick and scared. Husbands usually meant knowing each other in an intimate way! Sophy felt her stomach leap to her throat.

Husbands meant babies! Her stomach flipped again. Her whole body stiffened, and she felt her panic growing. Maybe he wouldn’t want her in that way? Maybe he would be content with her money? Her words were sober, but her eyes betrayed her.

“You’ve made your points very clearly, Mr. Weston. One thing, though, you didn’t mention. Since this would be a marriage of convenience, did you mean it would also be what I believe is called a ‘marriage in name only’?”

Seth paled. A frown creased his broad forehead into a network of lines, and something undefinable flickered in his eyes. He looked off over her head. There was a long pause. Sophy began to suspect she had offended him.

“Well, no,” he said slowly, his voice soft, deep as summer midnight, richly textured as plush velvet. “I didn’t mean that, I guess.” He stretched out his weak leg, absently rubbing his thigh through the fabric of his trousers.

Sophy nervously touched the round silver disk suspended from a delicate chain at the base of her throat and stifled a pang of fear. How had she expected him to react? The truth was, she hadn’t thought it all through that far. Just as she hadn’t considered she was being totally unreasonable in expecting him to forgo the expectation of a normal marriage and children.

She needed to think logically and calmly about the situation. Perhaps if she told him the truth, he would understand. She drew in a quavery breath, searching for cushioning words.

“I want only honesty between us. You seem to understand my situation, and I had hoped to come to some arrangement with you.” Sophy managed the words with a steadiness that surprised herself. Inside she was a bundle of agitation and chaotic thoughts.

Seth looked at her curiously for a moment, his interest heightened by her sudden diffidence. Sophy’s eyes were on his face, but he felt as though she did not actually see him.

There was a darkness in her eyes, a fear in her face that he had seen before only in the eyes of men going out to battle. Then she held out her hand. He looked surprised at the gesture but took the slim fingers in his own large ones. They were icy cold.

“What is it?”

There was a deep note in Seth’s voice that reached out and touched Sophy, bringing her back to reality. Suddenly her eyes were focused on his, and for a moment both of them were very still. His strongly magnetic eyes seemed to enter her very being and cause some strange fluttering near her heart.

She waited, aware of a breathless feeling. Her fingers trembled in Seth’s large hand, and she knew he must have felt it. The lines around his mouth deepened, and a muscle flickered in his jaw. His voice was steady, without emotion. “I cannot help you, if I don’t know what is wrong.”

His fingers tightened on hers, and he smiled, but his eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion. Sophy’s senses reacted to the subtle force of his personality. There was a cool perception and an underlying intelligence in Seth Weston that she would do well to acknowledge. Deception or lies would not sit well with such a man.

She licked suddenly dry lips. “If it would not... inconvenience you too much, Mr. Weston, would you consider a marriage in name only?”

There was a distinct pause, then Seth asked cautiously, “Are you afraid of me, Sophy?” The question hung in the air between them.

“No.” Abruptly, she felt a searing need to share her secrets. She swallowed and gathered her courage. If they were to start off their married life right, she was going to have to be honest.

“As a charity worker in the army hospital, I helped tend hundreds of wounded soldiers, both Union and Confederate prisoners. The agony and misery I witnessed affected me deeply. I have sworn that I will never bear a child and so perpetuate the terrible things that brother can do to brother.”

The harsh contours of Seth’s face seemed to harden at the depth of despair in her voice, but he did not release the grip on her fingers. “The idea still distresses you?”

She frowned uncertainly. “No. But I made a solemn vow. One which I intend to keep.” Her fingers flexed against his palm. “Now that you know I will never give you a child, do you want to withdraw your offer of marriage?”

Seth’s eyes narrowed to blue slits as he examined her face carefully. Her eyes were wide, reflecting an appeal of which she wasn’t aware as she waited for his reaction.

He found his gaze drifting to her mouth, observing the way the lower lip slid beneath small white teeth. Was the action to prevent its trembling? Or a contrived expression of mystery, sensuality and allure? Whichever it was, Sophy van Houten was not what he had anticipated.

He had expected a weak, easily led woman, helplessly adrift without the support of her father, and instead here was a creature who, though she looked fragile, possessed a devastating candor, an integrity, that set all his preconceived notions of women in a spin.

Humor flickered briefly in the set features of his face. “Is that all? You don’t want children? That is your terrible confession?”

Sophy’s chin rose at the trace of amusement in his voice. “I am constantly told I am too unconventional, too reckless, that I must curb my foolish thoughts.” A little ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I am also aware that, even in a city that prides itself in being on the cutting edge of the new morality, to go against custom is to invite ostracism.”

“Money will open most doors, and we’ve just finished four years of bloodshed to confirm all men are born equal.” He slanted her an odd glance. “In any event, one man’s rose is another man’s cabbage. It seems we have things in common, after all. Children are not high on my list of priorities from this marriage.”

Recognizing in the simple statement both the truth and the utter insufficiency of the words, Sophy closed her eyes for a moment, relief surging through her. He had no intention of withdrawing his offer, she thought, with a trace of wonder. It was comforting and slightly scary, but it also gave her an oddly warm feeling right behind her breastbone.

Silence fell around them. Sophy stole another look at him, wishing she could sit here and savor this warm, comfortable feeling for the rest of time. Her fingers quivered a little in the warmth and strength of his clasp, and she smiled brilliantly up at him.

“We can call it settled, then?”

Seth went still. The unnatural quietness in him was unnerving. Deep down, it sent prickles of a very primitive, very feminine alarm through her.

“Not quite.” His voice was gentle. “There is one detail I would like to clarify. It might not be fair to either of us to commit ourselves to the arrangement you propose on a permanent basis.”

Sophy marveled at the perfectly neutral tone of his words. Whatever happened, marriage or no marriage, would not be a neutral event to her. She leaned forward earnestly, breathing tremulously, searching his face for hidden meanings.

He was watching her with a startling intensity. “I know that you consider this marriage to be founded on necessity, so I am prepared to wait until you feel comfortable enough to fulfill the...er, shall we call it, duties of a wife.”

His thumb stroked the back of her hand, tracing the lines of the bones there. “I’ve tried to make it plain that I can’t give you romance. That part of me does not exist anymore.” His jaw tightened. “But I promise to be a faithful husband, Sophy, and I will not act the cuckold. Do you understand?”

Sophy could feel the tension emanate from his body, a tangible thing, matching her own. A deep wariness and a grim determination lit his eyes, as if he were silently setting down the rules of war. The challenge was there, in his eyes, waiting for her.

With a feeling of sliding from a great height, she responded, her fingers tight on his. The suggestion of warmth and laughter that was reflected in the curve of her mouth became a full-blown smile.

“Yes.”

It was all that she could manage, that one syllable, but nothing could halt the rush of red into her cheeks. She had won a glorious victory! The matter of marital intimacy had been satisfactorily resolved. She had control of herself and the situation.

Realizing suddenly what he’d agreed to, Seth pulled his hand from hers as if her fingers were a sheaf of snakes. Damn her to hell! Had he consented to a marriage he did not want simply to save a factory? Sold his soul to the devil for thirty pieces of silver?

No. Not quite true. Most men would kill for a smile like the one she had just given him. The smile that was on her face was like the rising of the sun. A sweet, feminine gift, which dazzled the senses.

For a second, he’d stepped into an illusion, allowing it to enclose him so completely that he’d felt her delight as if it were his own. And, in reality, the kind of marriage she was offering was precisely the type to which he was most suited.

They each had something the other wanted, or needed.

Sophy moved restlessly in her seat, hurt at his abrupt withdrawal. She wanted to leave her hand in his, warm and safe. The pain seemed to grow round her heart, but there was self-deprecation too. She should not have dared to show such foolish emotion before him. She glared at Seth as he poured fresh coffee from the porcelain pot on the cherrywood table.

An odd smile edged Seth’s mouth as he looked into those well-spaced gray eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her and held up the pot in salute.

“Well, Miss van Houten, it would seem that you and I have ourselves a marriage contract. I hope you consider the bargain worthwhile.” He shut his eyes in brief irritation when his leg protested angrily at the movement. He shifted position gingerly. “Would Sunday week suit you?”

“Whenever you wish. I won’t change my mind,” she said gravely, accepting the cup he passed to her.

Seth gave her a sharp look as though to detect levity, a slight frown hardening the lines around his mouth. When Sophy’s eyes solemnly met his fierce blue ones, her whole body went tense.

There was something about the way he looked at her that confused her. Something shrewd. Something dangerous. The taut strain in him was etched around his eyes, making her want to lift her fingers to soothe away the lines. A nervous tremor skittered along her nerves, and she tore her eyes from his, breaking the spell.

“I’ll wait on your uncles tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements.”

Relieved, Seth realized his voice was even, as though he were in full command. For a moment those soft gray eyes had stirred feelings that were strange and unwelcome, yet pleasurably compelling. It was a long time since a woman had so disturbed his equilibrium.

Sophy lowered her eyes demurely to the contents of her coffee cup. Thinking she shouldn’t even be considering the suggestion and knowing it was already starting to tantalize her, she glanced up at him through lowered lashes.

Setting down her cup with great care, she put her small hand to her mouth, shocked by the heady notion. It would be a bold move to try to squeeze further concessions from him, but why not enter into marriage on terms favorable to the wife?

Her mouth tilted slightly at the corners. Fortune sides with him who dares. She tried to make her voice bland. “I would like to continue with some projects I’ve been working on, maybe even undertake some new ones.”

Seth’s eyes met hers over the rim of his cup. Sensing his annoyance, Sophy sat up a little straighter, and blinked owlishly. Her voice was a shadowy breathless sound. “No questions, no reproaches, no comments even from a husband.”

Seth set down his cup, the firm line of his mouth hardening slightly. From the displeased expression on his face, Sophy could tell he found her demands excessive.

Sophy blinked, uncertain of his sudden change of mood. Maybe she should compromise, just a little? She wet her suddenly parched lips with the tip of her tongue and hurried on before she lost her courage. “And I promise no tears. I’ve heard wives cry a lot to gain their points.”

Seth’s features were forbidding as he studied her. Sophy’s jaw muscles went tight. His gaze seemed to penetrate into the very heart of her, as if he were trying to discover her deepest secrets.

He stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. A short, sharp expulsion of air. But definitely a laugh. To his ears the tone sounded surprisingly rusty, but then it had been literally years since he had laughed out loud so spontaneously.

“I couldn’t stand that! Anything more?” His question was more curious than anything.

Sophy shook her head slowly. “No.”

He eased his leg back against the sofa, watching her, a cool, flicking assessment in his bright blue eyes. Sophy could feel the probing inspection as if he had reached out and touched her.

Something feminine and disturbing flowed down her spine. She shifted uncomfortably, unable to look away from his suddenly hooded gaze.

“I take it that this is the end of our negotiations? That you will not come up with new demands and stipulations every other day?” His voice was steady and calm, though she could feel the coiled energy in him.

Sophy felt herself blush at the gibe, but she felt a sense of relief that he was willing to ignore the tension flowing between them. She had to establish firm terms and conditions in her relationship with this man, or she would be lost. She lifted one shoulder and shrugged dismissively.

“Of course not.” She moved her head once in denial. “I simply wanted to have things cut-and-dried before you committed yourself. There is one more thing, though.” She was annoyed to recognize the hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“Let’s hear it.” There was resignation in his tone, but wry humor flickered behind the dark lashes and tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Sophy drew in a deep breath and let him have it. “As I mentioned earlier, I was actively involved in many of my father’s financial dealings. I would like to learn all I can about textile manufacturing as well, assist where I can.”

There was a charged silence while Seth digested her proposal. He sat there, looking as if he were reflecting on his response as he idly ran a finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

Sophy eyed his lowered lashes, a queer feeling in her stomach. It was like a great bubble that threatened to expand and explode the fantasy she had begun to weave about the nature of this man.

It was this element of uncertainty that caused the powerful effect on her. Her heart beat a slow thud, pressing the bubble up behind her breastbone, pounding a thought into her brain.

Had she made a terrible miscalculation?

The silence was becoming more than a little frightening when he looked up suddenly, his decision made.

“Fair enough. I have no objection. If you accept that I reserve the right to try to influence your decisions, you have a deal,” he agreed easily.

The small victory banished Sophy’s apprehension. Once again she felt in charge of the situation. The notion was strangely satisfying. Sufficient for her to proceed recklessly.

“As my wedding gift, Mr. Weston, I intend handing over my father’s entire estate to you. It is not insubstantial and will make the payment of your debts infinitely easier and any plans for expansion less troublesome. Unless you have any objections, I shall retain only those assets and funds I have acquired through my own endeavours.”

Seth gritted his teeth, reached for the cane and started to get to his feet. And he had thought she was vulnerable, a target for fortune hunters like himself!

An uneasy shiver feathered his spine and he shook his head. He had a gut feeling she was not going to be the biddable, obedient wife Matt Tyson had promised.

“The idea of a wife who drives a hard bargain intrigues me, Sophy van Houten.” He slanted her a deliberate glance. “It’s going to be interesting being married to you.”

He had never envisaged that married life was going to be a pleasant experience, not by any stretch of the imagination. The point to recognize was that Sophy van Houten was only a woman, and an unseasoned little squab at that.

He had merely to show her who was in charge, and all would be well. Seth Weston was a man used to giving orders, and to seeing them obeyed.

Time enough after they were married to bring her to heel. He had other things to do today. He was going to visit Wall Street and give a certain banker a small but hopefully salutary piece of his mind.

Sophy’s eyes were bright and steady with exhilaration as the door closed behind him. Every hope she had ever held was blossoming afresh.

Her prayers were answered. All she had ever wanted was within her grasp. A small voice within her whispered, Be careful not to ask for what you want. You just might get it.

It spun through her mind that, if she were wise, she would leap up and run from this marriage as if the yawning pits of hell gaped at her feet. But Sophy knew how often the gamble was worth the risk.

The game was never lost till won.

The day of the wedding was one of October’s smiling ones, still and unseasonable, almost warm. There was the feel of a gentle determination in the air, of tenacious life, a movement, a subtle tremor of restless nature, beneath a shining sun. The curtains were pulled back from the bowshaped windows, letting the light spill into the dressing room.

Standing in front of the long mirror, Sophy gave her hair a final pat, and her delicately arched brows pulled together in a frown. Would she be a disappointment as a wife to Seth Weston? He had made it perfectly clear it was only her coin he wanted. It wouldn’t have mattered if she were a hunchback with four eyes, her wealth was attractive.

There was no reason for her to feel as strangely unhappy and uneasy as she did. After all, she had agreed to the wedding bargain. Her only doubts lay with the unknown quantity of Seth Weston and her growing awareness of him as a man. Sophy touched the tip of her tongue to her lower lip, suddenly nervous.

Her maid gave a knowing grin. “Now, don’t ye be fretting over something that hasn’t happened yet. Things have a way of working out.” Giving Sophy a caress on the cheek, Tessa adjusted Sophy’s cap.

Sophy had finally settled upon black silk and lace for her wedding attire and a small cap, black, embroidered, with just enough veil to suggest the bride.

“I guess you’re right, Tessa,” she conceded. She wished she had asked Aunt Ella about the intimacies of marriage, but she had not wanted to embarrass her straitlaced aunt.

“Have you never wished to marry, Tessa?”

“Nay, lass. My clan were poor. From the day I arrived in America, I belonged to Nicholas van Houten and his bonny lassie. They were all the kin I ever needed, just as yon man will be your life.”

Sophy stood helplessly. A thousand thoughts possessed her, none of them rational enough to voice.

Seth Weston...

She had not seen her fiancé at all during the two weeks preceding the wedding. Only a brief message with Matt Tyson to say the marriage contract had been drawn up, and, if it fulfilled all her conditions, would she please sign as necessary.

There had been other callers, including her two uncles and her cousin. Uncle Schuyler had seemed relieved that he would soon be able to discharge his final task as trustee. Her mother’s brother had never wanted such a responsibility in the first place. Sophy, with her independent ways, made him uncomfortable, but he was determined to do the right thing by his niece.

He had pompously declared Seth Weston to be a man of excellent character, who would safely see to Sophy’s welfare. He had also sadly reflected that it would have been more seemly if dear Sophy had respected the customary period of mourning before committing herself to marriage, and left.

Sophy had a sneaking suspicion that Uncle Schuyler was secretly impressed that Seth had survived the bloody battle of Gettysburg and still remained a respected textile manufacturer.

While Uncle Heinrich wished her well, he also considered the haste unseemly. Did she not feel the weight of remorse? he asked trenchantly. Did her conscience not trouble her?

A pained expression on his face, he closed his eyes, muttered a prayer for forgiveness, then made the caustic observation that Seth Weston would regret tying himself to such a willful baggage.

But Uncle Heinrich also felt under obligation to see that his brother’s daughter was married well, and pronounced Seth to be a man of honor who had fought bravely for the Union. Any man who could control a regiment of soldiers should be able to control one small woman.

It was left to Cousin Pieter to ask her bluntly if she loved Seth. Sophy flushed, unable to reply. Pieter believed in the cause of freedom, not only for black slaves, but for women. What could she say now?

That love was an illusion, cut to the measure of one’s own desire? That her desire was for independence, not love? That she was desperate for freedom? That Seth Weston was willing to give that freedom to her?

Pieter’s eyes had narrowed with suspicion. Sophy gulped, gnawed at her bottom lip, trying to figure out how she could distract Pieter’s thoughtful attention.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Father’s death, Pieter, it’s that I don’t want my life the way it was. I want more,” she ground out, her throat tight with tension. “I’ll make Seth a good wife if it kills me,” she vowed, “or if he doesn’t kill me first!”

The sound of church bells, ringing as clear and crisp as the autumn sky overhead, accompanied Sophy as she entered the sacristy of the old church at Sleepy Hollow.

Sophy had difficulty in concentrating on the service. She thought it might have something to do with the potion Aunt Ella had given her earlier to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

As she entered the church on her uncle’s arm, her whole being was concentrated on the man waiting at the altar.

Seth Weston...

It was quite remarkable; she knew without looking up the very moment he turned his head to look at her, and felt his start of surprise. At the last moment, she had impulsively plucked some late-blooming roses and pinned them to her cap. A novel touch. Incongruous. Defiant.

The wreath of vivid red roses lent a sweet, pungent scent to the air as she stood before the pastor and prayed for God’s blessing on the marriage. The minister opened his book and began to address the congregation.

“We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony....”

Seth was conscious of the slight figure standing at his side. Whoever heard of a bride wearing mourning black—and red roses? Not exactly proper. In fact, downright unconventional! Like a reflection on water, his first impressions of Sophy were beginning to waver.

That sort of picture did tend to ignore the small irregularities. A dangerous mistake. Although it was only a tiny error in the mental image of her that he had fashioned, it bothered Seth.

A seasoned campaigner, he knew little mistakes, small pieces missing in the puzzle, could lead to much bigger and more dangerous miscalculations. There were still too many unknowns in the mystery that was Sophy van Houten.

No. Sophy Weston. He made a quick adjustment in his mental construct of his bride. His bride. Hell, what on earth was he doing here? It was too late now to get out of it, but he had a feeling that someone had set a trap for him and he had fallen into it.

“Wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded husband... for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer... in sickness and in health... to love, honor and obey... ?”

Confusion and a strange kind of fear thudded with Sophy’s heart, which was pumping in quite an uncertain manner. As Seth’s fingers closed over hers, her insides churned and she felt a deep throbbing wave of excitement. It was startling and disturbing to react as strongly as this to his touch.

I shouldn’t be here, she thought, staring blindly at the preacher. She knew nothing of love, so it wasn’t so bad that they didn’t love each other. Seth was marryring for security and she was making a respectable bargain, the kind many women in her position struck. It was just that she felt uneasy. Besides, it was too late now to change her mind.

Sophy felt a moment of panic, and her throat was so tight that the “I will” demanded of her would hardly come out.

There! It was done! She was married to Seth Weston.

Seth Weston...

He stood beside her, in stiff military style, a soldier girded for battle. She heard his responses, firm, strong and, in some way, completely impersonal.

Somehow, that bothered her. An unaccountable tension gripped her. She felt as though she were standing on the brink of a very wide, very deep chasm.

“—what God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

Lost in thought, Sophy scarcely realized the ceremony had concluded. Seth, too, stood as if made of stone, not moving, staring into space. The silence was awkward.

Finally, Cousin Pieter, who had acted as groomsman, gestured toward Sophy. “Go ahead and kiss the bride, Seth.”

Sophy was overwhelmingly conscious of the tall, powerful figure at her side. Face aflame, she forced herself to meet her husband’s eyes. A quickening shivered through her middle. She attempted a smile, but her mouth felt soft, tremulous.

The deep glow in his eyes was suddenly so intense that she was forced to look away or be scorched by the heat. Why was he looking at her that way? It was vaguely unnerving, and it took a great deal of courage not to step back. Instead, her small, pointed chin rose in challenge.

Seth paled considerably. He drew in his breath sharply, and his eyes blazed with the sizzling heat of a lightning bolt. Then he appeared to reach a decision. Sophy had the feeling that he always made decisions that way, quickly and surely.

What would it be like to be kissed by him? Sophy’s eyes widened. She knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she wanted him to.

Yet, at the same time, she felt trapped, unnerved by the strange feelings coursing through her. The quickening rippled outward from her belly, into her limbs.

I can’t, she thought in panic. She sucked in a quick breath, and turned her head sideways. Seth’s breath was soft and warm in her ear and she felt chills on her arms as his moist lips landed just above her earlobe.

Sophy could see the sudden flush on his cheekbones, and his blue eyes seemed to see right through her head. Crystal eyes, frost eyes. And they were filled with a brilliance that subtly invaded her being, causing her to shiver, to remember that her first impression of him had told her that he could be a dangerous man.

She watched Seth’s mouth draw downward, his weight shift to one hip, heard his intake of breath, which mocked her.

“I beg your forgiveness, Mrs. Weston. My aim is not what it was.” There was something slightly contemptuous, or was it scorn, in his tone? She looked up at him and saw in his eyes an almost blazing anger that was quite unmistakable.

Startled by the extent of his reaction, Sophy’s throat tightened on a sudden urge to cry out. She had not intended any offense. It was merely a spur-of-the-moment act of self-defense. So why did she suddenly remember one of Aunt Ella’s maxims? Who digs a pit shall fall therein.