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Eliza

Eliza's feet didn't have to carry her far at all before she found the housekeeper. In fact, it was the smell of rot coupled with cloves that brought her to the woman's side. She was huddled in an alcove just a flight down from where Jane's room lay, a tray set with tea, thick cut bread, and bergamot marmalade balanced against her cocked hip.

The sight of the tea tray sent a shiver right through Eliza's body. It was set exactly like the one that had been delivered to Jane the previous afternoon, right before Linfield arrived and announced that he meant to have Jem join them in their matrimonial bed.

"Lady Linfield's sleeping, she won't be needing that," she said making her presence known. Something on that tray was laced with the phosphorus from those missing pills and had already stolen Linfield's life. There was no way she was letting Jane anywhere near it.

"Ey up, Miss Wakefield. I'll just take it up anyway, in case. I've had trays sent t' all the guests' rooms as none of ya had a meal, what with how things happened. You're all sure to be hungry by now. Especially t' mistress. We don't want her skippin' meals in her condition."

"Really, do not. I'd prefer you don't disturb her."

"Ah, miss, ah heard ya," the woman hushed her in a motherly fashion that was all too convincing, and made Eliza wonder if she was wrong to be so suspicious. "I won't make a sound. Quiet as a mouse… Sh' won't even know that I'm there."

"No." Fear put a bark into Eliza's voice. She could not bear the thought of this woman near her friend, especially not bearing poisoned gifts. It had to be the marmalade. Hadn't someone said Linfield loved the stuff? While Jane had been bewildered as to why anyone would rejoice over something so bitter.

Could Jane hear them from above? Probably not. This part of the castle was old, and the walls thick enough to muffle sound. Likewise, no good would come of calling for help. No one would hear her, and it would only alert Mrs Honeyfield to her suspicions, assuming her scepticism had not already turned the tide of events. The woman had her head cocked and was now regarding her with narrowed eyes.

"I'll take it," Eliza offered, reaching for the tray.

The mistake was already made.

Instead of handing it over, the wretched woman flung it at her.

China flew and shattered. Scalding tea splashed over Eliza's face and décolletage contributing to her cry of shock. Mrs Honeyfield seized the momentary distraction to fly past her and sprint up the stairs with her skirts held aloft.

"No!" Eliza frantically pulled the scalding hot fabric away from her skin and lunged after her, only to skid on a saucer that splintered beneath her foot, and sent her crashing into the stone steps, so that she jarred her knees and scraped raw both palms.

This time, she didn't let the shock slow her, but rose immediately, and took the stairs two at a time. She could not let that fiend near her friend.

Mrs Honeyfield proving herself both swift and nimble had already reached the chamber door. "Jane," she called, imitating Eliza's voice with alarming accuracy. "Jane, let me in. Be quick."

"Jane, no! Don't open the door."

Too late; she heard the bolt slide.

Mrs Honeyfield threw her weight against the wood, opening a gap just wide enough for her to slip through, then about turn and slam the door behind her. Eliza reached for the latch, but it was futile.

"Let me in. Open up." She drummed her hand against the barricade, but to no effect. "Jane, don't heed her. I'll find help. Be strong. Be brave."

She received no obvious reply, but with her ear pressed to the wood, she thought she heard Jane's voice, high-pitched and frantic. Was she praying? Pleading?

Oh, unbelievable fool that she was. She ought to have turned tail and returned to Jane's side the moment she caught sight of the wretched housekeeper. Nay, she ought never to have left her alone. Now what was she to do? It was too far to go to seek help, assuming anyone could be found to lend it. And who was to say if they would even get back in time. Mrs Honeyfield obviously meant mischief. And no amount of kicking or drumming would get her through the door. It'd been built to withstand armed invaders.

"Think, Eliza. Think."

There had been two other doors within that room. That meant potentially two other exits. As neither led onto this landing, it was reasonable to assume there was perhaps another, and a second stair. With no time to lose, she tore off in search of it, muttering a prayer under her breath as she ran.