For a moment I pretended that it had been part of my nightmare, that it hadn't happened. But when I opened my eyes, there was her candle burning beside me, and on the floor the broken fragments of mine.
I pinched out the flame, wanting to hide my guilt in darkness. But it wouldn't leave me. Over and over again I relived that moment. Sleep was impossible. Fumbling for the matches I re-lit the candle, then I paced up and down.
I don't know how long I continued, but walking had a calming effect and after a while I was able to think. I would have to leave Carr Head. I couldn't face Grace again. Or Aunt Phyllis. But surely Grace wouldn't tell her? She promised she wouldn't. But they were close, like sisters. And even if she didn't, my face might betray me. Aunt Phyllis would know what I had done. I imagined going down to breakfast, the family gathered there. They would look at me and they would all know.
I would have to leave early in the morning before anyone was up. But how would I get home? I would have to walk. Then there was my bag. Should I leave it behind?
I stopped pacing. This wild rush of thought was achieving nothing. Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together.
First I must dress. Then pack. My bag wasn't heavy; I could manage it if I stopped for rests and perhaps, when I reached the main road, a wagon might come along and I could beg a lift.
My decision made, I felt somewhat steadier. I went about my tasks methodically and when I was ready, I sat down to wait for dawn.
Then I had another thought. My disappearance would cause alarm. Possibly search parties would be sent out to look for me. I'd have to leave a note. But what could I say?
After a false start or two I wrote:
I am sorry to have left so suddenly without saying goodbye. It was kind of you to invite me but on reflection I realise Mamma needs me at home. I am making my own way there as I do not want to put you to any trouble.
Louisa
I addressed the note to Aunt Phyllis and left it propped up on the writing table.
By now the sky had turned from black to grey. It was time to be off.
I turned the doorknob slowly, in case it clicked. There was no one about in the hallway. Closing the door quietly behind me, I made for the stairs. I descended cautiously afraid of creaking steps, but I reached the lobby undetected. I'd decided to leave by the garden door rather than attempt the bolts at the front. Before I could reach it, the door of Uncle's study opened, and I came face to face with a maid.
She gasped and dropped her ash bucket with a loud clatter. "Oh, Miss, you gave me such a fright!"
"Sorry—I'm sorry." I tried to move past her but the passage was narrow.
She looked at me with open curiosity. "Are you not well, Miss?"
"Yes—t hat is, no—" I hardly knew what I was saying. Surely that noise would have roused someone. At any moment they might appear. "Please, let me pass."
She moved aside then but her eye fell on my bag. "You're leaving?"
"Yes. I've been called away suddenly." An absurd thing to say. Why was I explaining myself at all?
I moved on, but she hurried after me. "Please, Miss, let me call the master and he'll get John to bring the carriage for you."
"No!"
She recoiled as if I'd slapped her.
I softened my tone. "There's no need to disturb the master."
Fumbling in my purse, I drew out a sixpence, and pushed it into her hand. "Here, take this. Please don't call anyone. I'm sorry I frightened you. But everything's all right, really it is."
I moved away from her then, found the garden door, turned the key and I was out in the fresh morning air. My footsteps on the gravel sounded thunderous to my ears but no face appeared at the windows.
I hastened down the driveway and out into the road, like a murderer escaping from the scene of the crime.
My voice falters into silence. I can't look at Eliza.
"I see." Her tone isn't at all what I expected. I look at her now and her face, if anything, is—sad?
"You don't seem—shocked."
"Why should I be shocked?"
"But—" I feel wrong-footed, as if I expected a step that wasn't there. "But what I did was wrong." And in case she misunderstands me and thinks I'm talking about shouting at my uncle, I add, "I mean, kissing Grace like that." I feel myself blush.
"No it weren't. You were just showing your feelings. That's not a crime."
Again I have that extraordinary floating feeling. I stare at Eliza. I can't believe how calm she is ... as if she hasn't just said the most unexpected thing in the world. She's just sitting there, looking at me, as if she understands.
I clear my throat. "So you don't think that's why my aunt had me admitted to Wildthorn? That Grace told her?"
She shrugs. "I don't know." She stands up and starts gathering up the dirty rags. "I know one thing, though."
"What?"
You can't go there, to your aunt's, can you?
***
For the rest of the day, I find it hard to focus because I keep coming back to the one impossible thing. Not Tom, but Aunt Phyllis.