My aunt stands up. "Yes, that's a good idea. Don't you think so?"
I look from one to the other. I have only one clear thought in my mind.
"I want to go back to Eliza now, please."
Feeling numb, I gaze at the trees sliding past.
My locket—the one with Papa's hair in it—is hanging safely round my neck, but my mourning ring's too big now. It's strange to be wearing my black silk frock. That, too, is looser on me, but that's not the reason it feels unfamiliar. It's as if the frock belongs to another girl, a girl who isn't me any more.
But who am I now? I don't know.
I can feel Aunt Phyllis watching me. I can't shake off the feeling that my rescue is all my cousin's doing, that really my aunt's opposed to it.
I wish Grace had come with us—I'd feel safer—but she said she needed to rest...
"Is Grace quite well, Aunt?"
"Yes." She looks puzzled. "Why do you ask?"
"She seems—different—and needing to rest..."
Her face clears and, with a glance at the driver, she lowers her voice. "She's expecting a child."
"Oh!" I have to struggle a moment to frame an appropriate response. "That's ... lovely. You must all be delighted."
My aunt doesn't look very delighted. "Yes, of course, but in the circumstances..."
"What circumstances?"
"Grace didn't say?"
She whispers that Grace has separated from Charles "temporarily" and is living at Carr Head.
"Because of me?"
She sighs. "All this has obviously had a great effect on her feelings for Charles, but sadly, even before this, things were not ... not as they should be."
Nodding at the driver's back, Aunt Phyllis conveys that she doesn't want to discuss this now and we lapse into silence.
This news sets my thoughts whirling. I was right, then. It has not been the happy marriage Grace anticipated. Surely she must be better off without that awful man. But it must be so difficult for her. Poor Grace. And with a child to think about now...
A thought occurs to me. If Grace's marriage were still perfectly happy, would Aunt Phyllis have released me from Wildthorn?
I give her a hard look, wondering.
Perhaps she senses my gaze. "What is it, Lou?"
"Nothing."
***
Mrs. Shaw must have seen us arrive because she's waiting in the doorway, Lily and Arthur clinging to her skirts and staring at my aunt.
For a moment there's an awkward silence. Then Aunt Phyllis looks at me and I remember how these things are done.
"Mrs. Shaw, this is my aunt, Mrs. Illingworth."
Eliza's mother gives a kind of half-curtsey, her face red and flustered. "You're welcome, Ma'am, I'm sure. Won't you come in and have some tea?"
Inviting us to sit down, Mrs. Shaw bustles about, setting out her best blue-and-white china. More tea ... but clearly Mrs. Shaw would be hurt if we refused.
Aunt Phyllis draws Lily into conversation and the little girl soon forgets her shyness. From his stool in the farthest corner of the room, Arthur fixes the visitor with a solemn gaze.
"Where's Eliza?" I ask.
"She's feeding the pig." Mrs. Shaw looks up from the range. "Shall Lily fetch her for you?"
"No, I'll go myself."
***
She's down by the ramshackle pigsty. Hearing my step on the path, she looks up.
At the sight of her, something slides in my chest.
With her hair awry, a smudge on her cheek, clutching the old pail in one hand, she looks simply ... herself. And I am so glad to see her.
Setting the pail down, she raises her eyes to me, her face a troubled question mark.
Quickly I tell her the gist of what I've learned. "...and now my aunt is waiting in your house, and she wants me to go back with her."
Glancing at the cottage, Eliza touches my elbow and signals that we should walk down to the end of the garden. Here, hidden from view by the pigsty, we stand, side by side, gazing over a field of barley. It's still green, but the ears are showing.
I turn over in my mind what my options are. Really, it seems as if I've no choice...
"I think I will go back, you know."
"Yes." Eliza's tone is hollow. She starts to pick at a piece of tar on the fence post. "Soon as I saw her—your cousin—I knew you would."
"No, not to Carr Head with them! I couldn't bear to stay with Aunt Phyllis. I'd better go home. I want to see Mamma and Mary..." I pull a face. "I don't want to see Tom. I never want to see him again."
There's a silence then. Eliza goes on picking at the tar, while I contemplate the future that's unexpectedly presented itself to me.
Eventually, with a sigh, I say, "You know, Eliza, I'm not sure I can go back to my old life, looking after the house and Mamma. I think I'd feel even more trapped than I did before. It would be almost as bad as being shut up in Wildthorn!"
Eliza looks sideways at me and I correct myself. "No, it wouldn't be as bad as that, of course. But it would be bad enough."
We stare out at the barley.
I know I have to go, but I don't want to, not yet.
Eliza says, "Maybe there's a way you could be a doctor, like you want."