Page 45 of A Devilish Element
“Is Edith recovered?” Eliza asked as she guided the girl to the door.
“Aye, Miss, tha Mrs Honeyfield gave her a proper scolding. Bet her lugs are still ringin’. I know mine are jus’ from hearin’ it. Surprised she didn’t belt her too. It’s only cause we’re so short a hands she weren’t got rid of reet away.”
“Well, I’m glad she still has her employ. She didn’t deserve to be dismissed, nor a hiding either.” She hadn’t deserved any punishment. Poor Edith had suffered aplenty already. “It wasn’t her fault.”
“Weren’t it?” Betsy’s attention perked up. “T’was someone’s, Miss, an’ Edith was the one watching over t’ mistress at the time. Ah reckon she dozed off, meself, an’ so does Lord Linfield’s man. He reckons she probably knock’t candle over. I dunno mind. I think it were Old Lady Cedarton’s doing meself. I bet the old hag’s out for vengeance. Doesn’t want Cedarton t’ ’ave a pretty new mistress. Dun’t want any of us here. You be watchin’ yerself for ’er now, Miss. Ya wouldn’t want t’ be tumbled up in ’er malice.”
“Thank you. You may go now, Betsy.” She had no time for ghosts, vengeful or otherwise. Whatever haunted Cedarton’s corridors was no spirit, rather a would-be murderer of an altogether earthy guise.
The girl bobbed her another curtsy, then balanced the tray on her hip so that she could reach for the doorknob. Eliza held it open for her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the maid was finally gone, only for her to poke her cheeky face around the jamb again not two ticks later.
“Beggin’ ya pardon, Miss, but Mr Whistler wonders if—”
Jem.
Jem… she could see him now. Standing behind Betsy in the only slash of light in the gloomy corridor. Candlelight from a wall sconce caught in the fine strands of his hair making the soft browns and golds shimmer. His eyes were soft as she stepped into the beam to greet him.
“Miss Wakefield, I—”
“You may leave, Betsy.” She ushered her off.
The girl went, but she gawked at them over her shoulder for the length of the corridor and even had the audacity to linger at the turn, while she rearranged the items on the tray.
Eliza and Jem exchanged huffs of disbelief when she finally turned the corner.
“I pray my presence at your door hasn’t metamorphosed into a tale of an illicit liaison by the time she reaches the kitchens.”
“Oh, I imagine we’ve kissed and agreed the time of our elopement afore she’s even reached the back stairs. We’ll be halfway to Gretna Green before she enters the kitchen, and one of them will be up to see I haven’t abandoned my post and that I still require dinner within a half an hour. Betsy will naturally volunteer.”
The pinching of his brows rather suggested Jem didn’t relish so much embellished gossip circulating.
“Don’t fret so,” Eliza soothed. “No one will take her seriously. I’m sure they all know precisely what manner of person she is and tolerate it because nothing speeds away the tediousness of endless chores than a good gossip about one’s supposed betters.”
“Supposed?”
“Well, I don’t consider myself better than anyone else, just fortunate enough to have been graced with some education and not to have been born into a hovel.”
“Ah.” He found his smile, and Eliza tilted her face up to better appreciate his handsomeness, feeling strangely shy after the circumstances of their last parting. They’d changed things between them, but then they’d been torn asunder in a fashion that hadn’t lent itself to reassurances. Eliza reached up to touch his face, but he caught her fingers before they came close to making contact and pulled their hands down into the shadows between them.
“Take care, Miss Wakefield. There are eyes aplenty in these old corridors, not just those of a tattle-tale maid, and few of them kindly.” Still, he held her fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “How is Lady Linfield? That’s what I came to enquire.”
“Settled.” She squeezed his fingers back, noting the calluses at their tips, and smoother patches of skin, perhaps wrought from chemical burns. “Still in a very deep sleep, thanks to Doctor Bell’s heavy-handedness with his dosing.” He could surely have knocked a cart horse out with the amount of opiates he’d administered to Jane.
“I imagine he would tell you that sleep is the ultimate restorative.”
“Yes, I imagine he would, and he’d probably have a few other scathing things to say.” Wretched man. And the worst of it was that she couldn’t even in good faith argue with him. “It’ll be a relief to see her wake again.” Only then would she know if Jane was truly well and not injured in some unforeseen way, or still suffering the delusion that a ghost walked Cedarton’s hallways.
“I think we all will.”
“Not her husband,” she muttered, bowing her head.
Jem twitched as if struck by her words. When she looked at him, his jaw was clenched. “He’s resentful,” he admitted. “It’s not a match of his choosing, rather one that familial obligations obliged him to make. I’m sure in time…”
Would time make a difference? She wasn’t so sure, and remained unconvinced that Jem believed any differently. A shadow lurked in his eyes when he spoke of the pair that made her suddenly mistrustful. She knew him as a soulful and clever man, but she would do well to remember that he was also one of Linfield’s barnacles and a man who hadn’t hesitated over agreeing to a passionate affair with her.
“Is that the only reason you are here? To enquire about Lady Linfield?” She took a step back towards the doorway, making him blink at her obvious retreat.
“No… No, that wasn’t entirely it. I thought… rather, it occurred to me that you might… That you might appreciate something with which to help you pass the time. I know how slowly the minutes can crawl when one is confined. I brought you these.” He scooped a pile of books off the window ledge and thrust them into her arms. “I wasn’t at all sure of your preferences… but, well… they are what they are. You may put them aside if they don’t suit, and I won’t be at all offended.”
