***
On the way out I speak to the maid, giving her money to fetch some food of a light, nourishing kind. I don't know whether I can trust her, but there's no alternative. I tell her I'll be back in the morning, so she knows I'll be checking up on her. I'll call in on my way to the station, to see how Tom is. But he'll have to manage on his own for one more day.
Nothing is going to stop me seeing Eliza and telling her my plan...
Lily and Arthur are in the lane watching for the carriage.
As I walk down the path, they run ahead, calling out excitedly and Mrs. Shaw comes out to meet me, drying her hands on her apron, Eliza following behind.
At the sight of her, my heart turns over. Her face has more of a tan than when I last saw her—it makes her eyes look bluer than ever, and in the sunshine, they seem to dance. It's hard to drag my eyes away and attend to Mrs. Shaw, and Lily, who tugs at my sleeve, chattering on. Arthur, suddenly shy, puts his finger in his mouth and tries to hide behind his big sister.
I'm touched by Mrs. Shaw welcoming me in and fussing over me, as if I'm part of the family, insisting I have a cup of tea and hear all the news. But as the minutes tick by, I fidget more and more. I asked the coachman to return at five. What if I don't get a chance to speak to Eliza alone!
Just when I'm thinking I can't bear it any longer, Eliza says, "Mother!" and looks pointedly at the clock.
"Bless you." Mrs. Shaw pats my arm. "Here am I letting my tongue run away with me. As it's such a fine day, Eliza thought you might like to take a walk. Is that right?"
I leap up at once. "Oh, yes. That would be lovely."
"I want to come," Lily pipes up.
"Me too! Me too!" shouts Arthur, jumping up and down.
Eliza exchanges a look with her mother and Mrs. Shaw says, "You can go another time. I need you to help me pick the gooseberries."
***
As soon as we're out in the lane, we turn to each other and grin. But I'm surprised at how nervous I am. I've spent so many hours dreaming about this, imagining rushing into Eliza's arms but now I feel shy. I can't help wondering whether Eliza really cares for me as I care for her. Now she's had time to think about it, does she still feel the same?
We walk along, a decorous distance apart, giving each other sideways glances, as if each is waiting for the other to speak.
In the end I ask what she's been doing.
"I've been helping with the hay-making."
"So you've not found yourself a new position yet?"
"No."
"Oh." This is what I'd hoped to hear, but I can't talk about that until I've told her my news and it seems difficult to start.
We walk in silence again. This is silly. We've so little time.
Eliza indicates a path into the forest and we turn on to it. The shade is a relief after the hot lane and the fallen beech leaves are soft underfoot. Soon, the path opens out into a sun-dappled glade. Eliza stops, her finger to her lips. "Can you hear it?"
I listen ... and then I hear it—a clear tap, tap somewhere over to our left.
"A woodpecker!"
"Yes, only we call it a woodsprite."
"That's nice."
We smile at each other and I have to go on looking into her eyes and she's looking into mine and there it is again, that spark leaping between us...
"Eliza, I—"
But before I can say any more, her arms are round me and mine are round her, our noses bumping as our mouths come together, and I feel lightheaded and shivery with joy because it's all right, it's still all right.
Breathless, we finally break apart, but we can't stop looking at each other.
"I thought you might not..." Eliza trails off.
"So did I."
We both start laughing. Then she puts out her hand and I take it and we walk on, disturbing blue butterflies and small copper ones who settle farther ahead then flutter up again as we approach.
Now I feel I can tell her all about going to medical school. "...but I don't know if I'll be ready for the exam—it's only five weeks off and I've forgotten everything!"
"You'll do it."
She's pleased for me, I think, but I sense something in her, some shadow, though all she says is, "What about your brother? He won't be pleased."
"Oh, Eliza!" In the excitement of seeing her, I'd forgotten about Tom. I tell her what's happened.
"He sounds in a bad way."
"He is and I don't know what to do. After what he did to me, I thought I'd be glad to see him suffer, but, oh, Eliza, I don't want him to die!"
She squeezes my hand.
"I spent the whole train journey thinking about it—no, that's not true actually—I spent most of it thinking of you, but I did think about him a bit and I had one idea, but I'm not sure..."