Chapter 33
Elizabeth woke suddenly, wondering where she was. The curtains were thin and the morning light seemed bright in the strange room.
The bed had been a great improvement on the hedgerows — no wonder Mama used to bemoan them — even though the sheets had not been aired and there was a rather musty smell to the room.
She looked around her with more attention than she had been able to the previous evening when she had stumbled in, more asleep than awake, and not quite sure whether she was living in a wishful dream.
The wallpaper was faded and old-fashioned, the window was draughty, and the ceiling was well-decorated with cobwebs in the corners.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. It was much as Grandmama’s home had been when she lived in the Longbourn dower house; the surroundings of forgetful old age.
Elizabeth had thought of her more often in recent months, when she had talked of her to Mrs Kerr and Mr Reed, describing how similarly she had been afflicted to Mrs Reynolds — and how the old woman downstairs seemed to be.
But Grandmama and the dower house were no more, both destroyed in the fire ten years ago.
Elizabeth blinked at the memory. Though she had been but ten years old, Elizabeth still felt the sting of guilt; had she not stayed overnight with her friend at Lucas Lodge that night, she might have discovered the fire in time to save her grandmother.
But she had to push the feeling away; there was a raised voice downstairs and she might find herself unwelcome. She hastily buttoned her gown over her chemise and twisted her hair up quickly, tangled as it was. She must go downstairs and discover where, and with whom, she was.
In the kitchen, she found the old lady looking oddly at a cup of tea on the table, and a middle-aged woman dressed as a servant, standing by the stove, her brow furrowed.
“And if you can sit quietly with your tea, Mrs Price, I can get some cleanin’ done. Your nephew won’t be happy if I can’t.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Good morning,” and entered the room slowly.
“Lucy!” The old woman’s confusion seemed to vanish. “You are home … are here …” and her voice petered out.
Elizabeth smiled at her. The broad northern accent made the name Lucy close enough for her own confusion yesterday, when she thought someone had called out Lizzy; but she would not say she was not Lucy. It would confuse the lady very much. At least she knew her name now. Mrs Price.
She looked over at the servant. “I am sorry to have surprised you. The lady called me in yesterday as I was passing and seems very confused. As I am not expected at any particular moment, I thought to stay until I knew she was safe.”
The suspicious expression cleared somewhat. “But you are not ‘Lucy’.”
Elizabeth shook her head, glancing at the old lady, who was frowning again at her tea.
“No, but it seemed incautious to try to disabuse her. You called her Mrs Price?”
The woman nodded. “I am Mrs Simmonds. Her nephew, Mr Price, pays me to come in the mornings, but I can get nothin’ done while she is so confused!”
“It must be so difficult.” Elizabeth sat beside the bewildered woman and tested the side of the cup to make sure it was not too hot before placing the wrinkled veined hand around the handle, which seemed to remind the lady what to do and Elizabeth supported her to take a sip of the tea.
“You’ve done this before, I think.” Mrs Simmonds had her hands on her hips.
Elizabeth smiled wryly. “I have, several times.” She helped with the next sip of tea.
“Perhaps I can do you both breakfast and then I could air out that bedroom for you and polish in the sitting room while I know I won’t be interrupted.”
“Thank you for the offer of breakfast. Are you sure there is enough food?”
“Don’t worry about that. If you can stay a little longer I can shop, too.” She turned to the stove and Elizabeth relaxed in relief. For today, she could eat and rest. Tomorrow could wait.
Mrs Simmonds talking about airing out the bedroom held the promise of another night if she was very fortunate.
If old Mrs Price took a nap later in the morning, perhaps Elizabeth could have a good wash. She would relish the opportunity of a large basin of properly hot water.
She might even be able to wash this dress. She had washed the blue one herself in the freezing water of a small stream two days ago. Rather ineffectually, of course; she had had no bar of soap, or any way of drying it, other than spreading it over a bush for an hour or so as she slept.
She shivered at the memory. She was alive and she was free.
Mrs Simmonds was just now placing a plate of breakfast in front of her.
Eggs, sliced ham and thickly buttered bread.
Better than biscuits, and Elizabeth sat forward eagerly, ready to help Mrs Price as they ate.
“Thank you, Mrs Simmonds, it looks wonderful.”
The woman nodded at her. “You look as if you need it, Miss, but I see you have no shoes. If you’re in the back bedroom, there are some slippers in the wardrobe that might fit you.”
“Thank you. I can wear my own boots when I have cleaned them off. I did not wish to track mud down here.” She was glad she was wearing her stockings — they needed washing, too. But it was warmer and they hid her blistered feet from observation.
“Well, I’ll be gettin’ on, seeing as she’s quiet with you here.”
The afternoon passed quietly. Mrs Simmonds had professed herself satisfied with the opportunity to get more done than usual, and seemed glad that Elizabeth had offered to stay another night or two.
“She is much calmer with you here, Miss. I confess, I am always worried about leaving her here alone, but my Jem needs me at home, and Mr Price, he knows that.”
She had prepared lunch for them before she left, and there was the makings of supper in the larder.
Elizabeth would manage very well, she thought. She had survived the journey here, and; well into Lincolnshire and hidden indoors, was fairly sure she would not be found.
As she settled Mrs Price in the old armchair in the sitting room to sleep for a while, Elizabeth regretted not asking the other woman not to talk about her. But there was nothing to be done about it. She must speak to her tomorrow and hope that no damage had been done.
The nephew, Mr Price, would be the next hurdle to overcome. Apparently he had been here the previous day, so he would come again before the end of the week. She must not worry about it just yet, although she knew it would play on her mind and her equanimity.