I offer her the rose and she takes it, and then we are kissing again, a long lingering kiss...
With a sigh, I say. "I must go. But, listen, it won't be long before I see you again."
She frowns.
"Eliza! I mean it!"
"But ... what about your studying ... and then you'll be off to London..."
Now is the moment to ask her, and now I feel sure of her answer. "Look, I don't want to leave you, but I must, for now. But when I go to London, will you come with me?"
Her eyes widen. "Come with you?"
"Yes. I'll be sharing a house with other women from the college and you could live with us too."
"You mean, like a servant?"
"No! Not a servant! Don't be silly!"
"What then?"
I don't know what word to use. "My—my companion." I add hastily, "I don't mean like a paid companion, I mean ... as my true companion, my equal."
Eliza's eyes are round, staring at me.
Minutes pass and the trees sigh, as a breeze ruffles their leaves.
Then she says, "I'm sorry."
My heart drops to a place I never knew existed.
She's very earnest, very clear. "That's daft, that is. I can't live with you as your equal. Those other women in your house, they won't like it. And other folk—what will they think?"
I must say something but my throat has closed up and a drumming in my ears almost drowns out what she's saying, but I hear it clearly, and every word is like a dart piercing the most tender part of me.
She says, "I won't come to London with you. I can't live with you like that."
And she's saying more but now I can't hear her because everything at the edge of my vision, the pond, the lilies, the wild rose, the forest, is blurring and all I can see is Eliza getting smaller and smaller and smaller...
* * *
EPILOGUE
The house is unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon.
Pausing in the middle of writing my letter, I leave my chair to look out of the window, down at the street where nothing is happening, except a cat licking something in the gutter. I look at the bedroom windows of the houses opposite, at the cloud-filled sky. Then I return to my table.
Papa's pipe-rack, brought down with me to London, rises above the litter of text books and papers; I like having the three wise owls watch over me as I study.
Patting one on the head, I pick up my pen with a sigh.
I'm struggling to think what to say to Grace. I've told her all the family news, including the fact that Mamma is glad to have Tom home, although I think she's having a hard time with him. I've told her how much I'm enjoying the classes in pharmacy and anatomy, though the chemistry's more difficult than I expected.
I could tell her that I've been wondering about specialising in mental diseases...
For a moment I indulge myself in my favourite daydream, the one where I take charge of a hospital like Wildthorn, only not like Wildthorn, because I see to it that the patients are cared for properly...
I won't tell her that I'm thinking of going back there to visit Beatrice—I want to see for myself how she is, find out whether I can do anything for her. But Grace doesn't know Beatrice.
This isn't getting my letter written. When I think of Grace trapped in that house with Charles and baby Richard, I don't think my hopes for the future are going to cheer her up, though she won't begrudge me my happiness, I'm sure.
She is still estranged from her mother and I can't help feeling sorry for my aunt now. Her efforts to secure Grace's happiness have driven her daughter away ... she is cut off from her grandson ... and what is left to her?
The door opens and the maid's face appears.
"Nearly finished."
She comes in and waits a respectful distance away from the table while I add to my letter, telling my cousin that I hope we can somehow meet soon. I send her all my love and sign the letter.
With a sigh, I put it aside and turn to the maid.
"Where is everyone?"
"Miss Gaskin's out to tea and Miss Lloyd and Miss Summers have gone to the British Museum."
I can't help it—all thought of Grace flies from my mind. "We've over an hour then."
I look at the maid and she looks at me. Her face is solemn but her eyes are laughing.
***
We pull our clothes off as fast as we can. The last thing to come off is her housemaid's cap, releasing a tumble of corn-coloured hair.
When Eliza turns towards me my breath catches in my throat.
I'm always amazed by her beauty: her creamy white skin, with its faint freckles like a dusting of gold. The first time I saw her naked I was dazzled; I didn't want to take my clothes off because I felt so ugly. But she undid my buttons one by one and her eyes and her mouth and her hands said You are beautiful too, and now, I almost believe her.
As we climb on to my narrow bed, the springs creak, making us giggle. And we kiss, gently at first, my hands moving over the smooth warm curves of her body, her hands hot on my skin. But then our mouths become fierce, urgent, hungry, and soon we are dancing, my love and I, dancing together in a rhythm that's easy, sweet and easy...