Page 49 of A Devilish Element
Truthfully, Jem was more worried about being found and pressed into some manner of fornication. Much better not to risk it, and to remain out of sight.
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Eliza
Eliza’s head had nodded towards her chest somewhere between the paragraphs detailing the instincts of newborns to suckle at their mother’s teats and certain ladies being too refined to nurse their own children. Mr Darwin’s book was not providing her with the wealth of new information she’d hoped for, rather, she found herself inclined to agree with Doctor Bell as to the worthiness of the tome. It contained a few points of discourse but was mostly a catalogue of things anyone with half a brain already knew.
She was abruptly startled out of her doze by the chamber door slamming against the wainscotting. The book slid from her knee, landing open face down. Lord Linfield’s spry form appeared out of the gloom and lurched towards her. His hair was standing practically on end, and his cheeks and nose were both ruddy, making her wonder if he’d just encountered Cedarton’s white lady.
It was apparent from the whiff of alcohol about him once he got close enough that this wasn’t the case. He stopped, and peered down his rather sharp nose at her, and barked, “Where is he?” before scowling in a fashion that caused his chin to disappear inside the folds of his cravat.
“Excuse me?” Eliza retrieved the borrowed book from the carpet, then rose, clutching it as if the leather and parchment might lend her strength. When a man barged into one’s chamber unannounced, it was rarely for savoury reasons. “Wh-where is who?”
Linfield’s drink-addled brain must have comprehended her misapprehension for he took a deliberate step back from her person, chewing on his ruby-stained lips.
“Jamie.”
“Who?”
“Jamie… James… Jem. Mr Whistler.” He spat the latter at her like an insult. “Where else would he hide but here?”
Hide? What the devil was he hiding for? “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that he’s not here. There’s only your wife and I, as you can plainly see.”
Linfield blinked. His scowl grew as his gaze darted about the room. Clearly, he expected to find Jem secreted behind a curtain, or perhaps slotted under the bed alongside the chamber pot.
“But!” he blurted when it became apparent neither were the case. Why he’d ever imagined it so, she couldn’t imagine, but then, drink-addled men often assumed things erroneously. Her father had always seemed to imagine he had a surplus of coins when in his cups, rather than a mortgaged house and five children. He’d always believed he was the best tenor in the county too, when in fact he could barely hold a note and was a baritone, anyway.
“There’s just the two of you here?” His eyes narrowed again.
“Aye,” she confirmed. “Just me and Jane.”
“Hm.” His nostrils thinned to snake-like slits. “She’s fine?”
“Huh?” Startled, she found him throwing a look towards the bed, and a rather softer one than she’d previously seen him give Jane.
“Sleeping,” Eliza ventured. Jane was still yet to wake. Fine wasn’t something she felt she could commit to. “When she wakes, I’ll tell her you looked in on her.”
“You will?”
“Of course.”
He rubbed his eyes while Eliza failed to stave off a yawn.
“Whistler’s not been here at all?”
“No.” He hadn’t. Leastways, not since before dinner, and she was bright enough to know when to spare unnecessary details.
He hmm-ed a bit more. “Felt sure he’d be here.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I’ll leave, then, and seek him elsewhere. We’re having a game.”
“Ah. Well, he’s really not here. I’ve not heard anyone pass by either.” Actually, that wasn’t wholly true, she’d heard Betsy a while back, idling about and taking her time over whatever task Mrs Honeyfield had presumably given her to do.
Linfield, it seemed, had already exited the conversation. He turned on his heels and marched back towards the open door.
“Goodnight,” Eliza called after him. He did not return her adieu.
