Lizzie’s reading was slow and laborious, but she read the first few lines and looked up with a lively grin. “Luciella?”
Maddy nodded. “Keep reading.” It was the book the girls had made the day before. All about a poor, put-upon secret princess and a sleeping prince . . .
She sat back smiling as Lizzie concentrated, her mouth moving silently as she read the story. She was doing so well.
Abandoned by her husband, Lizzie was young and pretty but unable to remarry, and her options were limited. Her uncle had given her work as a dairymaid, but Lizzie liked pretty clothes and nice things. She didn’t mind hard work, so she’d set her heart on becoming a lady’s maid.
Maddy was so proud of her. In the year she’d known Lizzie, she’d worked so hard . . .
Lizzie finished the book and looked up, laughing. She glanced at the little girl arranging the buttons in long rows, and winked. “A princess, eh? I never knew.”
“You read that book all by yourself,” Maddy said quietly. “You didn’t ask me for help with a single word.”
Lizzie glanced at the book, surprised. “Neither I didn’t,” she breathed. “Glory be—I can read.”
“And your handwriting is good, too.”
“Not my spelling though.”
“No, but many people have trouble with spelling. It just takes time and work and perseverance in memorizing the tricky words.” Maddy touched the fresh arrangement of her hair. “And you have a real talent for dressing hair. This is so stylish, I could go to a grand London ball and not look out of place.”
Lizzie looked her over and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Hmm, I reckon that dress would stand out and all, patches no longer being all the rage.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously, Lizzie, I think you could start applying for positions in a fine house.”
“You truly think so, Miss Maddy?”
“I do. In fact, I’ll write you a letter of recommendation this very minute.”
“Now?” Lizzie looked dismayed.
Maddy was puzzled. It was as if Lizzie dreaded the idea of going into service. Yet in all the time Maddy had known her, she had spoken of nothing else.
Maddy put her hand over Lizzie’s. “What is it? Have you changed your mind?”
Lizzie twisted uncertainly. “No, I do want to be a lady’s maid—I hate milking cows, honest I do. It’s just . . .”
“Just . . . ?” Maddy prompted her after a moment.
“I know it’s stupid. I know he won’t never come back to me. But if I go away . . . and he does . . . and I’m not here . . .” Lizzie made a defeated gesture.
Reuben. Of course. Lizzie’s runaway husband. The love of Lizzie’s life, or so she’d thought until he went to town one day with all their savings—supposedly to buy a fine breeding bull—and never came back. She’d never seen it coming and for months afterward had refused to believe that he’d left her willingly.
“How long has it been?” Maddy asked gently.
“More’n two years.” Lizzie dashed a hand across her eyes, scrubbing tears away. “Stupid, ain’t I, even thinking he might come back after all this time.”
“Did you never hear where he went or what he did?”
Lizzie gave a bitter snort. “Half the village seen him on a wagon with a dozen others, din’t they? Drunk and laughing, heading down the Bristol road—and there was no reason for him to go to Bristol, none! My quiet Reuben . . .” She shook her head. “I’d never seen him take a drink, ever.”
Maddy gave Lizzie’s arm a comforting squeeze. “If Reuben did come back, he’d ask at your uncle’s farm, wouldn’t he?”
Lizzie nodded. “Uncle Bill’d tell him where I’ve gone, all right, but first he’d give Reuben a good hiding. So he’d be mad to come back, wouldn’t he? Even if he wanted. Which he don’t.” She blew her nose and sat up straight. “No, go ahead, write that letter, Miss Maddy. My Reuben ain’t never coming back, and if he does, well, there’s always Uncle Bill, as you say.”
Her gaze sharpened at something behind Maddy, and her eyes suddenly lit with laughter. “Oh, would you look at that. It’s true what you read in books.”
