Page 74 of A Devilish Element
“Dammit, woman. There was still a half bottle left. ’Tweren’t worth sacrificing because you’re oversensitive to the truth.”
“You don’t know a thing about my family.” Nothing of Freddy and poor Louisa, and how her brother still mourned her passing.
“I know enough,” he said. “You wouldn’t be so fired up if my words didn’t hit so true, and it’s clear enough what you are. You can dress yourself up, but you’re no simpering society miss who’s never known hardship and thinks the worst fate that might befall someone is to have to wear the same dress twice in a row or miss the Aldershot’s ball.”
“Who are the Aldershot’s?”
He waved away the remark. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Only that they might have a ball, and that one might be forced to miss it. You’ve shivered and starved. Tell me truthfully that isn’t so. You know plain enough that love doesn’t fill your belly or stave off the winter frost. Only the flush and our giddy, glorious poets bind themselves for love, and idolise impoverishment. You are more practical. You are like the rest of us gathered here, eager to prove your worth, but the truth is that we’re all just pawns… playthings, here for his entertainment and nothing more.”
Angered, Eliza retreated from him. “Sir, I don’t know what you mean to achieve by lecturing me like this, but I shan’t stand idle and listen to it. I should think after today, you might value a sympathetic ally, and not be so ready with your vitriol.”
“Is it vitriolic of me to state the truth?” He cast her aside with a turn of his now empty hand. “Linfield will see you gone afore long. ’Tis only because he seeks to keep his wife sweet that you’ve remained this far. Once he has what he wants from her, then… then I should watch out for yourself, Miss Wakefield. Linfield is jealous of his pets, and you’ve been playing far too greedily with his favourite.”
~?~
Eliza returned to her chamber, and from there to the soot-stained ruin of Jane’s room. The ceiling and walls were blackened, and the old bedframe burned through in the middle so that the two ends leaned together like two wraiths clutching one another’s spindly limbs. She no more understood George’s venom towards her than she did Jem’s motives, or the cause of the fire that had almost consumed her friend, yet she felt certain that they were in some way connected. That all the mysteries of Cedarton were somehow linked, and if she could only fathom the common thread, then everything would make sense again.
The little maid Edith arrived not long after. “I’m t’ fetch Lady Linfield’s things, Miss. Mrs Honeyfield says she’s t’ be moved in ta old mistress’s suite afore dinner’s done. Master’s orders. Like there ain’t enough for us all t’ do what wi serving dinner, and of course, none of us much wants ta go in there. There’s a chill in tha’ room, Miss, I’ll tell ya. Freeze’s ya reet down t’ marrow it does. But I suppose it’s only habitable room left. Canna say as I’d much fancy sleepin’ there.”
“Where is this room?” Eliza asked, refusing to buy in to the maid superstitious nonsense which had no doubt reached her ears by way of Betsy’s tongue.
“Why ’tis in t’ Lady’s Tower, miss.”
“I thought that was no more than a burned shell.”
“Aye, mostly ’tis, but not alls of it. Gordy, t’ gardener, Miss, has quarters there and there’s a few rooms at top what escaped the blaze, like.” She began to busy herself, collecting Jane’s few undamaged things into baskets to be moved, allowing Eliza a moment to ruminate on the matter. Had Jane truly agreed to this move? What motivated it? And of all the chambers she might move to, was old Lady Cedarton’s room truly where she meant to rest her head? But then, perhaps she did not mean to sleep there, only to entertain Linfield’s husbandly demands.
It soured Eliza’s mind to think of it, and Jem’s role in what ought purely to be a matter of man and wife. Perhaps that was the reasoning behind the odd choice of chamber. The unconventional arrangement would not be seen or overheard. The thought left an even sourer taste on her tongue.
“Mrs Honeyfield’s in ever so much pain,” Edith was saying. She seemed most determined to fill the silence, rattling on regardless of whether Eliza was paying her any heed.
Which, indeed, she had not been.
“Cookie’s had her rinse ’er mouth out wi’ a gargle a lemon juice an’ salt water, but she looks ever such a state. The whole reet side of ’er jaw’s swollen exactly like me sister’s bairn when ’e ’ad t’ mumps. All cockeyed, she is. Ah thought ya tooth powder was sure t’ sort ’er, but it dun’t seem ta ’ave done a thing.”
“She’ll have to have it pulled,” Eliza remarked offhandedly. Presently, there wasn’t space in her thoughts for the dilemmas of others. She would have to speak to Jem. Tell him what she’d overheard and listen to his side of the matter, but the dinner bell sounded at that very moment, and she realised there wasn’t time to see him before the meal. Would there be an opportunity afterward? Knowing Linfield, he’d march them all off to their beds the moment the last fork touched a plate.
“Oh, it can’t be tha’ time already,” Edith complained. “I need another four hands ta deal with all this, and t’mistress’ll need changin’, and you t’—”
“I can attend to my own attire,” Eliza reassured her. She left the maid, retrieving what could be retrieved from the wreckage of Jane’s former room, and slipped through the little dressing room to her own chamber. Jane was already present.
“Eliza, wherever did you go? I thought you were only next door, but once Linfield had gone, I looked for you, and you’d vanished.” She took hold of Eliza’s hands and guided her to the bed so that they might sit facing one another. “You’ll be pleased to learn that all is to be well between Linfield and me. An assignation has been arranged for tonight. The details of it are a little strange, but I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” She stroked a hand over her belly.
“I’m glad for you.” Eliza leapt up at once and busied herself with her attire. She repinned her hair and changed her long-sleeved day dress for an evening dress and gloves. She knew Jane wanted to discuss the details of what had passed between her and Linfield, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t hear it and not feel every word of it as a personal attack. Jem was hers. She was his. They hadn’t stated it like that. In fact, she’d probably made him think that she wanted nothing more than a passing affair. Had perhaps even implied that she only considered him worthy of that…
Had she done that? Made him feel small, unvalued in some way. Oh, but he had been less than candid with her. This… this whatever it was that existed between him and Lord Linfield, it wasn’t new. She felt certain of that, and while he had not lied to her, he had, she was certain, been circumspect with the truth.
“I’m going to head down. It’ll give you space to change without us tripping over one another,” she insisted, relieved that Edith waddled through from the adjoining room at that moment, for Jane was hovering around her, desperate to find an opening to step in and engage her about her husband’s odd demands. “I’m glad for you, Jane.” She squeezed her hands. “Truly, I’m glad that all is mended between you and that all will be well. You know I dearly wish you to be happy.”
Jane followed her to the door, but she wouldn’t speak in front of the maid, and so Eliza was able to slip away. Out in the corridor, the tears that she’d been holding back erupted in a sob. This was all too much. This house. Its inhabitants. Hope she hadn’t realised she harboured now muddled her thoughts.
It seemed apparent that the connection between her and Jem had been so much less of a bond than she’d thought. She’d let herself be bowled over by physical pleasure, and then equated it to love.
But he wasn’t in love with her. Not truly. Not if he meant to attend the Linfields.
She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Show a woman a little affection, and she’ll think you a prince right out of a faerie tale. Lord, she was a gullible as every other unwed girl in the land.
Eliza had to remain in the corridor for several minutes, swallowing down the bitter lump lodged in her throat before she could pull herself together enough to descend.
