Page 7 of Lady for a Season
“How long have you been here?
“Several years now.”
“Always with Eliza and Agnes?”
“Yes.”
“And any other people?”
He looked down. “There was a man when I first came. Then a woman. Before you. Bridget.”
Maggie thought it better not to ask more questions. He seemed unwilling to give much detail and she was mindful of Doctor Morrison’s instructions not to inquire overmuch into her patient’s history.
“How did you manage to see the animals?”
“I sat quiet for over an hour each time.”
That was reassuring. If her patient’s idea of passing the time involved sitting in silence out of doors watching wild animals, he did not sound dangerous.
“Shall we try now?” she asked.
He glanced at her, as though surprised. “To watch for the animals?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and settled himself on the bank. Maggie watched him and sat in a similar position, knees up, arms wrapped about her legs, making herself small and still.
Perhaps an hour slipped by in the cold January sunlight. Edward’s fingers and toes were growing numb with cold, but he did not want to move. Not because of the animals, for twilight would have been a better time to wait for them than broad daylight, but because of her. Maggie. He had been expecting, dreading, another Bridget, a hard-faced, hard-voiced woman who had barely tolerated his presence, who had seen it as her task to strip from him any of his small pleasures in life. And here instead was a young woman of his own age, with bright eyes and a gentle voice, who was prepared to sit with him in the cold for the hope of seeing a glimpse of a wild animal. He wondered how long she would stay after she had seen what the role would entail, whether she would be frightened away by his strangeness, his wrongness. Everyone had always told him he was wrong anddifferent, so it must be true. Would she be able to bear life at Ivy Cottage? He hoped so, but he did not want her to suffer for his strangeness.
“We should go back in,” he said. “It is too cold to stay out long.”
She turned her head and smiled at him. “My nose is cold,” she said. “But I would like to try again one day.”
Slowly they got to their feet and made their way back up the steep bank. At the top, Edward slipped. He flung out his arms to help himself balance and Maggie grabbed his hand, steadying him.
“Thank you,” he said.
She laughed. “I cannot have you fall into the stream in this weather,” she said. “You would die of a chill and Doctor Morrison would say I was a poor companion.”
He managed a smile as they reached the safer ground of the garden and once again he held the door open for her, which she appeared both awkwardly pleased by and grateful for. But when she went into the kitchen to speak to Agnes and Eliza, he stood in the hallway, looking down at his own hand, trying to hold onto the feeling of how she had held it. Her cold fingers tightly clasping his, helping him find his feet in that moment of unsteadiness. It had felt like care, and he had forgotten what being cared for felt like.
On their return to the house, they went into the parlour. Agnes was pumping water and Eliza was cooking. It was clear that, while pleasant women, they had their own work to do and saw Edward as entirely belonging to Maggie. So far, she had seen little of the lunatic about him, but she supposed that would reveal itself in due course. He was currently choosing a book, after which he settled himself into an armchair.
“What do you do, most days?” she asked him.
“Read.”
“All day?”
“There is not much else to do. The vicar, Mr Robertson, brings me new books when he can.”
Maggie perused the books on the shelves. There was a large handsome Bible, a leather-bound Atlas so heavy that Maggie’s wrists felt weak when she lifted it, as well as works by Shakespeare and Milton, along with books that had evidently been used to educate Edward:The history of England, from the earliest times to the reign of George II.by Dr. Goldsmith;The British Youth’s Instructor: Or, A New and Easy Guide to Practical Arithmetic; AShort Introduction to English Grammar: with Critical Notes;A Tour Thro’ the Whole Island of Great Britain. Divided into Circuits or Journiesby Daniel Defoe, and others of a similar nature. Clearly his education had continued, even though he was not at school.
“What do you like to read?”
“I prefer books on the natural world,” said Edward. “Botany, or animals, geography.”
They ate a simple supper of pease soup with bread and butter, hot and filling, served to Edward and Maggie in the parlour, while Eliza and Agnes ate in the kitchen, though the food was the same. Darkness had already fallen and shortly after supper they retired to the bedrooms.
