Isaac was panic-stricken. He scoured the house and garden for Eliza. He scanned the distant fields in the hope that she would appear. He investigated every corner of the farmyard and almost ran to The Manor gardens to see if she was sitting in the rose garden or blowing seed from some of the plants in the herbaceous borders. He couldn’t smell the scented trail that followed her. There was only one place left where he could think to look – if she was not there, he could only conclude that she had passed over without him. He had ruined everything and had only himself to blame.
Isaac strode along the holloway, pressing himself to one side as a couple passed with a dog. The animal stopped and growled, and Isaac felt like growling back, but the owners tugged it away before he got the chance.
Caution, he reminded himself. Caution at all times. This is not your world anymore. You have over-stayed your welcome and to remain you must take care. Had he not told Eliza this over and over again? That they shouldn’t be here, that they must be subtle. The cottage hadn’t been theirs for over a hundred years, yet Eliza still thought of it as her home. He did, too, if he was honest, but that was wrong. It was time to disentanglethemselves from its threads. He traversed the last part of the holloway and towards the top. Even though it was high summer, he smelled that mixture of violets and primroses which was uniquely hers. He had found her at last. Maybe he could begin to make amends, but first there was something he must tell her.
She was sitting on the fallen stone staring out across the valley. He stopped for a moment, taken aback by her loneliness.
‘Eliza,’ he called tentatively.
She didn’t seem to hear him, and he was afraid to approach her.
‘Eliza,’ he called again.
This time she looked towards him; such a disconnected look that it almost broke his resolve. He should leave. She obviously didn’t want to be disturbed, especially not by him. He would have to work out what to do on his own, but he wasn’t sure he was capable of that.
‘What are you doing here, Isaac?’
‘I came to find you.’
‘Well, here I am.’
She turned her head away again.
He didn’t recognise this cold and aloof woman. Where was his beloved wife? How could he ever forgive himself for what he had done to her?
‘You didn’t tell me where you were going,’ he said. ‘I was worried.’
‘Maybe I didn’t tell you because I wanted to be alone,’ she replied.
He moved a little closer.
‘And I’ll leave you alone shortly,’ he said, ‘but something has happened. I thought you ought to know about it.’
‘If it is to do with the world of mortals I’m not interested,’ she said. ‘They are not my concern anymore.’
The breeze caught at her hair, ruffled the hem of her dress, caused her whole form to ripple like water.
‘The Beulah woman has already gone, and Jules is leaving, too.’
She didn’t stir, her normal curiosity seemingly stifled.
‘Good.’
‘The house will be ours again, Eliza, for a time at least. We will be able to sit in the garden undisturbed and talk like we used to. We will be able to inhabit the house without fear of being spotted.’
‘Undisturbed,’ she echoed, raising her voice. ‘I’ll never be able to sit in that garden undisturbed, as you call it, again. The house will never be ours again, Isaac. You were right. We’ve remained for too long. It is time to let go, to let everything go.’
Isaac felt a slice of pure fear, like a hot blade dividing him in two. He needed to find a way to bring her back to him, back from this place of grief and anger and indifference which had claimed her whole being.
‘Eliza, I do not think Jules is ready to leave.’
She flashed him a callous stare.
‘We shouldn’t take it upon ourselves to make decisions for others. If our guest thinks she is ready to leave, then who are we to prevent that?’
Isaac tiptoed forwards and perched on the edge of the stone, his hands steepled together as he spoke.
‘But you didn’t say that about Carrie. When she was leaving you tried to delay her, to allow her more time to discover her true feelings for Guy and his for her. I may not have supported you as I should at the time, but with hindsight it was the right thing to have done. You brought two good people together and added much happiness, not just to them, but to their friends and families and to our little community here. You have always said, Eliza, that the happiness of each individual has the potential tospread out far and wide into the world and make it a better place.’
