Eliza’s Daughter by Joan Aiken

you. Never mind the lass, she’s from times gone by.’
    But Triz evidently did not feel so.
    â€˜Alize, Alize!’ she wept, stretching out her arms to me.
    I stood silent, thinking of the strange contrast between most of the orphans in Byblow Bottom, who were never likely in their whole lives to inhabit such rooms, such furnishings, as these; and poor little Triz, who wanted none of it. I thought of my fan, my treasure, hidden away in the hollow oak; Lady Hariot probably possessed a dozen such; and so would Triz in the course of time.
    I did not like to go and leave her crying so bitterly.
    â€˜Listen, my darling,’ said Lady Hariot, soothing and fondling the little thing. ‘Your Liza, your Alize, do you call her? She shall come back tomorrow – how about that? And shall take you for a walk in the gardens, and you shall show her all your new toys. Will that content you?’
    My heart leapt up as Triz thought about that for a while and then nodded, seriously, twice, knuckling the tears from her eyes.
    â€˜She shall come in the morning – after you have had your breakfast.—Can you do that, child?’ Lady Hariot asked me.
    â€˜If Dr Moultrie will give me leave – I study my lessons with him, you see, ma’am.’
    â€˜Do you indeed? Well, I will see that he gives you leave.’
    She nodded to me to slip away now, and I did so, for Triz had at last begun attentively studying the toy she held in her hands.
    I ran back to the village, down the gravelled driveway, peering most eagerly all along the vistas of terraced garden, none of which were visible from road or footpath. I would have liked to loiter and gaze, but knew that this would not do. Never mind; I could explore the gardens tomorrow with Triz; and with luck the visit might be repeated. My feelings on the way home were a mix of triumph and deep apprehension. This last was well justified, for when I reached Hannah’s house she received me with a very black and stormy mien.
    â€˜So, Miss: what have you been telling her? What did you tell Lady Hariot?’
    â€˜Tell her? I didn’t tell her anything.’
    â€˜A likely story! When you told those boys all about sitting on the cliff top and never seeing Biddy!’
    Bother the boys, I thought. Why could they not have held their tongues? Since Triz was now safe at the Hall, I could see no gain in teazeling out the full story of what Biddy had done, or planned to do, or why she had done it. To me it seemed fairly plain that, taken by surprise when Lady Hariot suddenly returned and sent for her child, Biddy had been tempted to plant her own daughter in lifelong security, and meanwhile quickly get rid of the other child so that nobody should have a chance to query or make comparisons.
    But by now the gypsies would be well away; there was no proof of what Biddy had done; people in the village might be puzzled by the fact that an apparently drowned child had turned up alive and well; still, such things did happen.
    â€˜Well, I did sit on the cliff top yesterday,’ I said. ‘And I didn’t see Biddy. But I never told Lady Hariot that. Why should I? Lady Hariot was there, sitting on the cliff top, her own self, all yesterday afternoon. I saw her there. I didn’t know then who she was, but she spoke to me.’
    Hannah stared at me, for once completely dumbstruck. Presently she went away to her daughter’s house, and what passed between them I never heard. But next day we suddenly discovered that Biddy was gone; gone silently and without a word to anybody.
    At first the care of the deserted Charlotte, Charley and Frank devolved on Hannah, but she very soon farmed them out to neighbours.
    â€˜Where do you suppose Biddy has gone?’ I asked Hoby, when it became plain that she was not coming back.
    He replied enigmatically, ‘To ask sailors how they do for soap.’
    â€˜And where would she do that?’
    â€˜At Exeter or Plymouth,