Chapter 49

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The wind is high in the sky, it picks up faded brown leaves and throws them around like a game of catch. Eliza feels something thin scratch the side of her face so she lifts her head. In her hurry to escape the house she has forgotten that she is still holding Charlotte's reply. She smooths the paper out and begins to read.

My Dear Eliza,

I barely know where to begin, Thomas informed me last night that your maid Cecily has eloped with Jasper's best friend James. I am inclined to think that you provided some assistance, I hope the retributions for your actions will not be too terrible. I have to believe that they are in love as James's family have already disinherited him, people gossip but I to my surprise it isn't malicious as I thought, I am hopeful they will be able to return in the next year.

As for your hasty exit from the wedding, think nothing of it, I understand your husband's haste to arrive in Oxford. He does not seem to be the kind of man who enjoys the attention of so many, rather like yourself in that respect. I am surprised you have taken such an opinion on Jasper's father after all you like Lady Helen well enough however it does make sense that Jasper's father affected his childhood. I hope that you both are both enjoying Oxford but I do miss you as does your uncle and great aunt. Thomas and I were invited over for tea recently and they bickered the entire time, it was most awkward.

I have been enjoying my time with Thomas, he is taking me to the theatre most nights and we even saw an opera one night. I have adjusted well to his house though it is very big and there seems to be an endless line of staff.

You must write back and tell me when you are to return as the thing we talked about may be coming to. I am too nervous to confirm with anyone else but please do not cut your honeymoon short on my account. I will see you when you return.

All my love

Charlotte xx

Eliza's mouth drops open and she smiles. Her heart tells her that she must return to London at once but her head tells her that she has a duty to remain with her husband, it would not be wise to leave Jasper without a truce. Although there wasn't much urgency in Charlotte's letter Eliza knows that her friend will be struggling to keep her secret from those she loves. The dilemma weighs heavily on her mind, her brain becomes sluggish with all the thoughts and choices jumping around creating havoc within her heart.

Charlotte. Jasper. Wedding. Duty. James. Society. Witness. Betrayal. Baby.

Eliza stands up, she decides that sitting under an apple tree for a few hours is not the most efficient use of her time, exercise is often a good way to sort out her thoughts. She walks a few paces to the house and her feet begin to feel chilly, she looks down and sees her toes peeking through thin stockings. No shoes.

"Damn." She mutters to herself, though she concedes that changing out of her crumpled ball gown into something cleaner is also a good idea. She trudges back around to the house, she hops across the mud and stone steps until she reaches the door. She opens the door and shuts it quickly to prevent many sneaky leaves from entering. She pulls off her stockings and climbs the stairs. She creeps along the corridor and opens her bedroom door an inch to see if Jasper is still there.

Her room is deserted, he must be in his study, so she fully opens the door and she chucks her stockings into a corner, followed by her dress and underclothes. She pulls a fresh dress out of the wardrobe, she laces up the light pink day dress with cream bows and matching satin shoes and pins her hair in a messy bun. She kneels on the carpet and flips open her trunk to find the money she has brought along with her, her eyes find a corner of a book instead and she pulls it out. Macbeth. The book she bought Jasper for as a wedding gift. She has forgotten she even had it. She runs her finger down the spine and traces the elegant gold writing. She places it back and picks up her purse, she drops it into one of her dress pockets and leaves the room, forgetting to shut the trunk. Eliza races down to her parlour, she shuts the door behind her and flings herself in front of her writing desk. She grabs a sheet of paper and a quill, dips it in the ink pot and hovers the quill over the blank paper.

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