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Chapter 16
It is March 30.
Eliza expected to hear from William by today. Disappointment rumbles through her heart just as the thunder sounds outside her bedroom window. She lays in her bed a little longer today. She is trying to assume the best, and not the worst. But, her gut is unsettled, and it is not from Ivy's soup the night before. She lays wrapped up in her heavy blanket, her ruffled nightgown on. She watches the rain pummel against her window, it comes down in sheets. She closes her eyes, a small tear escaping. She envisions that dream she had months ago. William in her bedroom, calling himself her husband.
After her New York trip, she knows he is who she truly wants. She chooses love. She does not want to end up reflecting on this life of hers, to simply watch her busyness and loneliness, as Miss Parker said. What? Why is she listening to Miss Parker? For once in Eliza's whole life, maybe she will admit that the woman has got a point.
Besides the old woman's point, when Eliza remembers the way she felt when William was with Arabella, it only confirms her choice. Even the memory of that makes her want to hurl. Seeing the two of them together, it's a wonder Eliza's drink of choice did not become whiskey after that long hiatus from William. She drowned herself in his favorite drink in his absence, in an attempt to feel closer to him. It did not work. Yes, she did not care for Arabella, especially after her painful remarks to her as a child, but the other part of the equation was Eliza missed William, she wanted him to herself. Though of course, she could not possibly admit that then.
But now, she can. She realizes she cannot have one without the other, for truly she is passionate about both. She wants her work, yes, she could never leave it. It is her way of life, her passion. But, love. William, why she loves William.
"You will make it work, you always do," Duke said to her.
And she would. They would. They would make it work. In fact, that is what they have been doing. Especially with the letters, but they have stopped recently. Which has her worried. She should have known the whiskey wouldn't have done the trick the other morning in the kitchen. It just made her miss him more.
Oh, William, she groans and rolls over in bed.
"Lizzie, are you alright? Are you ill?" Ivy knocks on her door.
"I am getting up now. Just moving a little slower today." Eliza hollers to Ivy.
"I left some bread and jam for you in the kitchen, I'm going to the market in a few minutes, in preparation for our big dinner tonight." She can hear the giddiness in Ivy's voice.
"Please do not go too far out of your way, Ivy," Eliza yells out again, as she places her robe over her nightgown.
"Oh, nonsense. The rain will not slow me down." Ivy responds.
"That's not exactly what I meant," she whispers to herself.
Celebrating without William present? Well, it feels like a cake without icing, a gift without pretty paper, mistletoe hanging above you but with no one to kiss. Just a bit lackluster. She sits in her chair, eyes getting lost in the storm outside. She watches as the trees across the street stretch their branches, they blow wildly in the wind.
She's broken from her attention when she hears a loud noise from downstairs. Maybe just a lone branch thrown against a window? But then, she jolts in the chair as she hears it again.
"Ivy? Ivy? Are you alright?" She steps out of her room in her robe, her hair hanging down her back in a loose braid.
She rushes down the stairs and startles as she realizes it's the front door. A loud knocking on the front door. She is in no condition to open the door.
"Ivy?" She jogs down the hallway to the kitchen. She has left for the market.
Eliza plans on going back up the stairs, whoever is at their front door will need to come back another time.
When there it is, she furrows her eyebrows, listening intently.
No, it can't be.
She listens for it and hears it again,
A gruff voice, "Eliz-uh!"
William.
She looks around quickly, she cannot open the door in her robe. But she must, she must open the door.
She pulls on her coat from the rack and grasps the door handle. She flings open the door, smiling.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore…" She trails off.
His hands stretch out against the doorframe, "Eliza, it is so good to be home." Duke says, rain absolutely drenching him. A suitcase sits at his feet, that same suitcase she saw the last time he had been here.
"William, are you alright?" She moves to cup his cheek.
"Eliza, are you going to invite me in? It's rather wet out here." He chuckles.
"Of course, of course, come in. Come into the drawing room. I, I will get some whiskey." She turns around, a bit out of it, heading to the kitchen.
"Eliza," he calls to her once more.
"Yes?" She turns back to face him, he's sopping wet, standing on the front rug in the foyer.
"Come here," he says in that thick accent of his. He pulls on her hand and brings her close to him. He reaches his other hand up, brushing it against her neck, and then lifting her face gently to his, he dips his head down to kiss her. The kiss is soft and sweet, and wet, thanks to the rainstorm. As he pulls back he whispers into her ear, "Happy Birthday."
"You remembered," She whispers, a smile spreading across her lips.
"You act surprised by that." He states.
She wants to get into it now, but he has got to get out of those wet clothes. But yes, surprise. Not that he remembers her birthday, but how is he here? Why is he here? There is no way the office in New York would allow anything other than a simple stationary card declaring, 'Happy Birthday.'
"We will have to let Ivy know you are here, or hopefully she will buy enough at the market." She babbles on about nothing serious as her mind runs a mile a minute.
He chuckles, eyebrows cross, "What are you wearing?" He takes her in.
"Oh," her eyes widen as she looks down, she feels heat rise to her cheeks.
"I, I must go get dressed for the day. I was moving a little slowly."
"You? Moving slowly? Are you ill?" He questions her.
"No, I feel fine. I was simply feeling a bit…" She looks down and he moves closer again, lifting her chin so her eyes meet his.
"Eliza Scarlet, did you think I forgot your birthday?" He inquires.
"No I… I was not sure what to think, I was worried about you. Missing you. It has been a month, I… I had worried that." She shakes her head, attempting to shake off the worries.
"We will talk. Go get your dress on. And meet me down here. I will put on some dry clothes from my suitcase, and hang the others in the kitchen. Then, I will give you the letters I did not have a chance to mail, and will tell you why I'm here." He explains.
"You mean it's not just for my birthday?" She smiles, eyes sparkling.
He smiles, though it does not meet his eyes.
"Well, you know where the whiskey is. I will get dressed swiftly, and be right back downstairs."
"I'm not going anywhere." He reassures her as she heads up the stairs.
"Ever again," he thinks.
