Page 50 of A Devilish Element
What a strange, strange man her friend had married. It was hard to know what to think of him. At least on this occasion he had found some measure of interest in Jane’s welfare. Perhaps he wasn’t such a villain after all, simply peevish over having a bride thrust upon him. She knew she wouldn’t care for such a thing. It was bad enough when Freddy got it into his head to include her in his matchmaking schemes. Thankfully, he was truly atrocious at it, so she’d been spared the irritation of finding herself beset by suitors. Although her brother’s incompetence was a shame for Caroline and Maria, who were both very much in love with the idea of being in love.
Maria fancied having a host of suitors, while Caro was all for having her heart broken and then mended by the arrival of a handsome prince.
Eliza closed the door and secured the latch. Whatever that had been about, she had no desire to experience a repeat. Thus, she was prompted to secure the entrance via the dressing room too. Really, it always made sense to lock one’s door when staying in a strange place, but she hadn’t thought it a necessity when she was nursing the lady of the house.
She was about to fall back into the chair by the hearth when a knock turned her attention to the armoire. Heavens, there was another entrance she hadn’t accounted for.
Eliza cautiously grasped the handle and pulled. For a moment, all she revealed was inky darkness, then a hand reached out and tugged her into the passageway beyond. Here, in a pocket of light formed by a stubby candle, she was finally able to see the figure holding her.
“Jem!”
“Who else?”
“In this place, I’m sure it could be anyone or anything.”
“Did you think me a ghost?”
His hold on her was far too warm for that. She imagined a spectre’s touch to be chill, that there would be no vitality about it. And while she was sure such an encounter would make her heart race, it wouldn’t be akin to having Jem’s breath on her skin.
“Lord Linfield was here looking for you.”
“Yes. I overheard you. Thank heavens he didn’t think to open the wardrobe.”
“Were you spying on me?”
“Eliza, of course not. The passageway seemed a good place to make myself scarce. I’d rather avoid his lordship’s company for the moment.”
“Don’t you care for his games?”
“No. Not presently. Not so much. Eliza… I didn’t know if you’d be awake. I wouldn’t have lingered if you had been asleep, so I pray you won’t think me horribly creepy.”
“I don’t think that. Though standing watching me sleep would definitely have been odd.”
“I’m glad you are awake. I found something. Something peculiar.” He described the details of the cobwebbed room to her and the dolls’ house he’d found there. “What do you think it all means?”
Eliza shook her head. “That someone means Jane ill, but that’s hardly a revelation. I’m certain that maid wasn’t responsible for the fire.”
“Linfield?”
She’d felt almost as certain of his guilt earlier as she’d been of Edith’s innocence, but now... “There’s plenty of reason to suspect it, but I don’t know, Jem. Something doesn’t feel right, especially after what you’ve just said of that strange room. Maybe I just want to think better of him. To believe that Jane hasn’t landed in such grim circumstances. He asked after her, almost seemed concerned, but I’m still not sure he cares much for her.”
“That could change. They hardly know one another.”
She nodded, but swiftly turned it into a shake. “You’re saying that, but you don’t really believe it.”
“I don’t know, Eliza. I think there are some things they need to figure out between them, and maybe then they’ll learn to rub along together well enough. Lady Linfield seems very amenable.”
“She is. Very. She’s a delight. I cannot understand why he can’t see that.”
“We’re often blind to what’s in front of us. Plus, it’s taking him a little while to adjust to his new circumstances. Eliza, his sire did compel him to make the match, and who among us likes doing what our guardians tell us to do? Is it then really any wonder he’s somewhat resentful?”
“Jem, you’re agreeing with me. Do you see what I mean about the notion of him being the guilty party feeling wrong? You started out arguing it was him and wound up defending him. Then again, you are his friend.”
“That’s a stretch. I’m his tutor.”
“A little more than that, I think.”
Curiously, his whole posture, from shoulders to shins stiffened as if he were bracing for horrible news.
