I stop and face her. "I feel it's partly Uncle Bertram's fault, and Aunt Phyllis's ... for involving Tom ... for giving him the means to harm himself ... So I thought, what if I write to them and tell them what's happened? Perhaps they could persuade Tom to go and stay at Carr Head and perhaps there, under medical supervision, he could recover. What do you think?"
Eliza puts her head on one side, considering. "Your mother wouldn't like that, would she? "'Specially after what they did to you."
"No, she wouldn't, that's true. But that's another thing, I don't know what to tell her. If I say he's not well, she'll want to rush down to London ... and she mustn't see him like that."
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"Of course."
"I think you should tell your mother the truth."
"I couldn't! She'd never get over it."
"But you said yourself she was better now. And look at how she's coped with finding out about you."
"It's not the same, though. This is her beloved Tom, remember!
"That's the point. Think how she'd feel if she found out about him later ... when it might be too late. I think you should tell her. And then it's for her to decide what's to be done."
I stare at her, turning it over in my mind. Finally I say, "I think you're right. I'll write to her tonight and, until I hear from her, I'll stay in London so I can keep an eye on Tom." I feel relieved at having come to a decision.
We resume our walk, arriving before long at a pond, where white water lilies float amongst the flat green pads.
"I used to call them cups and saucers, when I were little," Eliza observes, stopping to look at them. I notice how the sun has brought out the freckles on her nose even more, how her hair has glints in it of pure gold.
"I wish I'd known you then. What were you like?"
"Pretty much the same as I am now, I reckon. A bit dafter."
"You're the least daft person I know."
I put my arms round her and hold her and it's good, just standing like this, holding, breathing in the smell of her skin. I can feel her breath hot on my neck, my mouth is close to her ear and without knowing that I'm going to say it, I find myself asking, "Have you loved other girls before?" and my heart starts beating quickly.
"Yes," she says simply.
I feel a stab of jealousy, which is not fair of me, because after all I did think I loved Grace. I pull away a little so I can see her face.
She looks up at me, her eyes solemn. "But none that loved me back."
"Really?"
She nods.
My heart leaps. "Oh, Eliza..." I draw her close again.
Eventually Eliza stirs. "We should be getting back now, else you'll miss your train."
"You sound as if you want me to go," I say teasingly.
"Course not!" She sounds hurt and, to my horror, I see tears in her eyes.
"I was only joking!"
"I know." She dashes the tears away with her hand. "Don't take any notice. I told you I were daft."
I suddenly realise all I've been talking about is myself. "Eliza, I'm sorry, I've been rattling on ... how are you, really? How have you been?"
"There isn't time—"
"There is! I'll catch the next train, if necessary ... the carriage can wait. Tell me ... I want to know."
She hesitates.
"Please."
"Well, it's been funny, like, because part of me kept hoping that you and me ... somehow it'd work out ... and that's why I've been putting off getting a place ... but part of me—" She stops shamefaced. "I—I've been trying to forget you, that's the truth of it."
I stare at her, aghast. "Forget me! Why?"
"Because I didn't think you'd come back."
"But I promised I would!"
"I didn't know if you meant it, and I thought ... I thought once you were back home, you'd have second thoughts, like, because after all ... I'm not a lady like you—"
"I'm not a lady! I hate all that!"
"You know what I mean. To toffs like your family, I'm a nobody."
"We're not toffs!"
"That's what your aunt and cousin looked like to me."
"Oh, they're much grander than us ... but anyway, none of that's important!" I seize her hand and shake it, I want her to believe me so much. "What matters is us, you and me, and how we feel about each other! I love you, truly I do!"
She looks at our two clasped hands, and then she searches my face.
As if she's satisfied with what she sees there, she puts her other hand on top of mine and squeezes it. "Right."
"Is that all you can say? Right?"
She looks up at me solemnly. "It's enough, I reckon, don't you?" In the sunshine, her eyes are very blue.
I nod. "I reckon it is."
All around us the quiet forest stretches, beech, oak and hornbeam, ancient trees, and I think of other lovers who must have found shelter here, away from the gaze of the world.
"Look, Eliza."
Behind us is a wild rose in full bloom, its delicate pink flowers trembling slightly, as if, another kind of butterfly, they have just alighted. Breathing in the lovely perfume, I go to pick one, and my thumb brushes against a thorn.
I remember my first day at Wildthorn, how I stood looking through the gate, longing to escape...
"Do you realise something? If Aunt Phyllis hadn't sent me to Wildthorn, we'd have never met each other ... Perhaps I should be thanking her, instead of hating her."
Eliza smiles. "That's true enough."