Page 29 of A Devilish Element
“Out. If you want to be useful, fetch Bell.”
Eliza sensibly took that as her cue too and slipped quietly back into the tunnel between the walls.
-8-
Eliza
Jane’s breathing had eased, and the colour returned to her cheeks when Eliza stepped in to check on her the next morning. Edith was dozing, making endearing snuffling snores, her head lolling towards to her chest. She roused when Eliza’s shadow cast across her.
“Miss—’ave I overslept?”
“It’s early yet.” Eliza reassured her, but the maid shook her head at the light pouring through the window and gave a cry of alarm. “Nah, I should have been up ages ago.”
“Nonsense, your duties here override all else until someone specifically tells you otherwise.” The reassurance did nothing to calm the maid, who danced about trying to right herself, and pinch life into her cheeks. “How has she been? Any disturbances.”
Edith pushed several unruly curls back beneath her mob-cap. “She’s been quiet as a lamb. Too quiet. Slept right through with nary a whisper, and me too.”
It was a joy to hear that the sedative had given her peace, not mired her in disturbing dreams. Eliza leaned over to smooth the hair back from Jane’s brow and press a kiss to her skin. “I’m sure the rest has done you both the world of good. Now, make sure there’s tea for when she wakes and have her take her breakfast on a tray. Even if she’s not hungry, you should encourage her to eat, even if it’s just toasted bread.”
“I’ll do that, Miss.”
The little maid continued to yawn and stretch. She had only just made it into some semblance of liveliness when Mrs Honeyfield came in, bearing a tray. “I thought I’d bring this up, rather than ’ave it go cold. Tothers are already at the table, Miss Wakefield, if you’d care t’ go down and join them. There’s pigeon pie and eggs, and a nice seed cake, as well as bergamot marmalade his lordship’s mam’s sent. It’s said to be Lincolnshire’s finest.”
“It sounds delightful.” She did enjoy a good marmalade, though she’d never encountered a bergamot. “I’ll head down right away now that I’ve reassured myself.” She brushed Jane’s hand affectionately, but then left off aware of Mrs Honeyfield’s scrutiny.
“You as well, lass.” The housekeeper ushered Edith towards the door. “Too much to be done for tha to be idling. And don’t be listening to none of Betsy Cooper’s nonsense now either. I’ve had to ’ave words with that ’un this morning already. Stirring up a reet storm she is with her tattle, and tellin’ all and sundry about her ladyship’s turn.”
“Word would reach the village soon enough anyway,” Eliza said. It was the way of things; news travelled on the wind, and the castle and its monsters would already be on everyone’s minds thanks to his lordship’s arrival in the area.
“Aye, maybe,” Mrs Honeyfield conceded. “Still, if we weren’t so rushed ragged ah’d send her on her way. She’s a sly piece, an no mistaking. Ah don’t want ya pickin’ up her windbag ways or any of her other habits, yer hear me, Edith. It shan’t be a surprise if I have ta count the spoons afore her next ‘alf day.”
“She just likes to chatter,” Edith said in the other maid’s defence.
“Blather and idle, tha’s true enough. And sneak off t’ who knows where at drop of a ’at. But she’s what we hav’, so wil’t ’ave t’ make do. Off with ya, now. You too, Miss.”
Eliza was along the corridor and down the stairs before she recalled the need to apologise for her tardiness in getting Mrs Honeyfield her potion. No matter, she would go down to the still room after breakfast and make it up, whether Doctor Bell approved or not. Perhaps she’d encourage him to take a peep in on Jane to get him out of the way for a while. Although, that was a risky prospect. The last thing she wanted was for the doctor to administer another dose of opiates.
It appeared she’d arrived late, for the dining room stood empty.
“Hoo there, through here.”
She turned at the sound of Henrietta’s greeting and found her seated alongside Mr Cluett and Jem at a large circular table in what one assumed to be a breakfast room.
“There you are dear. Do come and join us, and you must fill us in on how our dear hostess is this morning.”
George pushed a chair out for her with his foot.
“We were just saying that you might choose to take a tray upstairs, weren’t we, George?”
“The pigeon pie’s very good,” that fellow muttered. Eliza noted that the corners of his eyes closest to his nose were bloodshot this morning, and the surrounding skin mottled purple. “Seed cake was better yesterday. This one’s a bit dry.”
Henrietta thrust her elbow into her son’s ribs. “Oh, George, she doesn’t care about that.”
“Well, I am rather ravenous.” Eliza settled between the two gentlemen and helped herself to a slice of the pie. It had a gloriously golden crust, which was more than could be said of the disappointing cake, which appeared to have been browned with treacle. Jem raised the teapot and waggled it meaningfully. He looked glorious this morning, turned out in a smart blue coat and paisley waistcoat. He nudged a cup and saucer in her direction, then poured a third for Doctor Bell as he entered.
“Miss Wakefield was just about to tell us how the patient fares this morning,” Henrietta said.
Bell cocked an eyebrow.
