Although Tom signed that letter and presumably asked the doctors to sign the certificates. Tom and Aunt Phyllis. Does Mamma know? Is she in on it, too? And Grace?
After the numbness of the first shock wears off, I feel utterly wretched. I keep asking myself, Why? I keep picturing Grace telling her mother what I did.
It isn't a crime. Eliza. If only I could believe her. And she was just as direct about Beatrice. I thought you were sweet on her.
I look up from darning Lily's stocking to find Eliza's eyes on me, as she wields the flatiron. She smiles, but not with her usual sunniness. Again I have the feeling that she's sad about something. Perhaps she's sorry on my account.
The reality of my predicament is dawning on me. Sure that Grace wouldn't break her promise, I've been counting on Aunt Phyllis...
What on earth am I going to do now?
***
Luckily in the morning Mrs. Shaw goes off to visit her neighbour again.
As soon as Eliza comes in from feeding the hens, I say, "I've been thinking and I know what I must do. I must find work of some kind, perhaps in a shop or a clerk in an office..."
Saying it, I feel sick. The last thing I want to do is leave here. It's the only place in the world where I feel safe. But I can't go on taking from the Shaws. From now on, I'll have to support myself. I'll have to learn to survive alone.
I've only the haziest notion of what such work might involve, but I can't think of anything else. On my own, penniless, with my family against me, what choice do I have?
"A shop or an office? There's nothing like that round here. I reckon you'd have to go to London for work like that." Her tone is doleful.
"Yes, that's what I thought." I pause and then feeling very awkward, I go on, "I hate to ask, when already you've all done so much for me but—"
"You'll need some money, for the fare..." She's still speaking in that same flat voice and I feel dreadful. I've asked too much.
"No, I don't want any money. I'm sure I'll be able to beg a lift from some farmer, going to market..."
At that she smiles, at last. "You're so fond of those hogs, you want to ride with them, do you? Don't be daft. I'll ask Mother—she'll have a bit of egg money set by."
I can't help giving her a hug. "Oh, Eliza, I'll pay her back as soon as I can, I promise."
Letting go, I notice she's gone red, but before I can ask if she's all right, Eliza puts her finger to her mouth in a hushing gesture. Then I hear it too—the sound of wheels in the lane. We look at one another with wide eyes.
"Quick," she says. "Upstairs."
I scramble up the steep wooden stairs and, opening a door, I find myself in a small bedroom tucked into the roof space. There's no cupboard to hide in or drawers to crouch behind—the whole space is filled with an iron bedstead pushed under the slope of the ceiling. Crawling under it, I press myself against the wall, trying not to cough as I breathe in dust. I strain to catch what's happening downstairs.
I can hear Eliza's voice but can't tell who she is speaking to. Is it the lodge-keeper? Or Mr. Sneed himself come in a carriage to carry me back?
I grip the leg of the bed with both hands. If they've come for me, I won't make it easy for them.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I freeze. The door opens and Eliza's boots stop near my head, then her face appears, upside down. "It's someone for you." I can hear the strangeness in her voice.
Struggling out from my hiding place, I whisper, "Who is it?" but she's already on her way downstairs.
I follow her slowly, my thoughts in turmoil. Has Eliza betrayed me? Is that why she's been so awkward?
I step into the kitchen, my eyes following Eliza as she slips out of the door. Then I hear a small sound, a sigh or an exhalation. A figure rises from a chair.
"Lou?"
The last voice I expected to hear.
Grace, here in the Shaw's kitchen! A vision in pale blue-grey silk that shimmers like opals, her flounced skirts draped in elegant curves.
I instantly feel self-conscious: I'm wearing a dress borrowed from Eliza, its hem a good six inches above the floor, and an old pair of Charlie's boots.
Remembering the last time I saw her, I blush, but I also feel wary. Why is she here? Has she come to take me back to Wildthorn?
"Lou!"
She steps forward as if to embrace me, but I back away.
Her face falls. "What's the matter?"
I can't speak. There's too much to say, too much to ask.
Alarmed, she says, "Lou? Are you all right? You know who I am, don't you?"
She thinks I'm mad. Swallowing hard, I manage to say, "Hello, Grace," and her face relaxes a little.
I glance through the doorway. Down the garden, Eliza is cutting rhubarb. The sight of her steadies me. "Are you by yourself?"
"Yes. I left Mamma at Wildthorn Hall, sorting things out."
At the mention of my aunt, a tremor goes through me, but Grace doesn't seem to notice.
At least on her own she can't make me go back there.
"We were hoping to get some information about you here. I didn't count on actually finding you!" She gazes at me. "You look well. From what they told us at the hospital, I was afraid—" She breaks off, pressing her lips together.