I look at her, considering. "I don't know. I've been wrong about so many things ... what if I'm wrong about that, too?"
"You'd be good! Better than Sneed and Bull and that lot. You'd help people."
"You think so?"
"Yes, I do."
I smile at her briefly. "But I can't see how it's possible. Mamma won't agree to it and even if I defy her, it's expensive to train. I can't ask Aunt Phyllis for the money now..."
At the thought of it, of what she did, I feel overcome again. "I've never hated anyone before, but I hate her, you know, Eliza."
"I'm not surprised."
"Anyway, never mind her, what about you? What are you going to do?"
She becomes intent on the piece of tar again. "Oh, I'll try to get something I suppose." Her voice is flat, colourless.
"But you haven't got a reference, have you?"
She shrugs. "It don't matter. Not everyone's that particular about references."
Something's wrong. I can tell from her voice, from the way she won't look at me.
"Eliza? What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
She turns her head then and her look sears me.
"D'you think any of that matters to me now? You—you're the only thing I care about. I know you can't stay here, you've got to go. But I'm afraid you'll not think of me. I'm afraid you'll go back to your old life and forget me and I'll never see you again." Her face crumples and she starts to sob.
I'm stunned. I've never seen her cry before...
I put my arms round her. "Eliza, don't ... don't..."
As she leans against me, crying, letting me hold her, I close my eyes, breathing in her warmth, her familiar almond scent and my thoughts fly like birds.
Eliza cares for me, very much ... I never thought, never expected, that anyone would ... and I ... with a rushing sense of wonder, I discover ... I care for her very much, too, and this, standing here together, holding her close, this feels... right.
After a moment she lifts her face and it's as if I'm seeing it for the first time—her fair eyelashes, the cluster of freckles over her nose, her mouth...
Without my quite knowing how it's happened, we're kissing. Her lips are dry and warm and I feel shy at first, tentative ... and then I can't help myself ... I melt into her soft, moist mouth, taste honey. My bones are turning to liquid, I feel breathless, dizzy with longing ... and, floating into my head, with absolute certainty, comes the knowledge—this, this is who I am, this is what I want.
After what seems hours, but can really only be a minute or two, Eliza pulls away.
Her face is flushed, her breathing as rapid as mine, but her eyes are wide, anxious, and she says, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't 'a done that."
"Why not?"
"Because ... your cousin..."
"Grace?"
"Yes. You said her marriage might be over and—"
I seize her hand, as if I'm drowning, and she is the only person who can save me. "Eliza, listen, what I felt for Grace, it was ... it was like a dream..."
As I say it I know it's true. My feelings for Grace—I realise now they weren't about Grace herself, but about an image of her I had in my head ... When I think about it, really I didn't know her all that well. I've never felt I could share my innermost thoughts and feelings with her, not as I can with Eliza. And as for those feelings I had for her ... they've gone. It's as if, while I was in Wildthorn, they just leaked away...
"It's over now. But this"—I shake her hand fiercely—"this is real." I kiss her hand, press it against my cheek. "I don't want to leave you, ever."
Her eyes fill with tears again. "I never thought—" she stops, swallows. "I never thought you'd care for me as I care for you. I thought, if it weren't your cousin, you'd find someone else, someone like you..."
"Liza!" Lily's shrill voice is suddenly close and we hastily break apart.
The little girl comes skipping round the pigsty, announcing in a high singsong voice, "Mother-says-your-tea's-stone-cold-and-that-lady-wants-to-go."
She comes to a halt and eyes us curiously.
"Tell them we're coming now." As Lily still lingers, Eliza gives her a little push. "Go on."
As soon as we're alone, I say urgently, "What shall I do? I'll have to go, won't I?"
She nods, looking as wretched as I feel.
I'm thinking rapidly, desperately ... hopelessly. "I don't know what will happen. I don't know what we can do, but I'll come back, and we'll think of something."
She stares at me, mute, and the look in her eyes makes me feel as if my heart is being torn from my chest.
"I'll think of you. Every minute of every day. And I'll come back, I promise."
Then I turn my back on her and walk up the path to the cottage and it's the hardest thing I've ever done.
Miss Louisa!" Mary positively beams, as she opens the door to me.