Eli jumped at the sound of Alice’s gasp. As the middle Wilson was not given to fits such as these, Eli rushed over to see what on earth could be amiss.
“Louisa’s needles!” she exclaimed, looking rather angry. “Oh, this is not good! Her position in the Craven household is so tenuous already thanks to James!” Alice seized up the little cloth pack in one fist. “It won’t do. I can’t let her loose her position, I’m going to go take them to her.”
“I’ll do it,” blurted Eli, surprising even himself. “It’s no trouble, really, and you’ve got so much to contend with here at the farm. Besides, I’ve got to turn to town, anyway, for supplies...for the barn. It would be right on my way.”
Alice chewed her lip, staring at him in the measuring way she often did. “All right,” she said, finally, putting the bundle into Eli’s hand. “James is there, after all, give them to him. He’ll know what to do.”
Eli had lied. He hadn’t intended to go to town, today, but he certainly was, now, and he was going to buy something very important so no one might ever credit the expedition to Eli’s emotions. Mounting up onto his horse, he rode quickly to the Craven estate, inquiring for James at the first opportunity. The eldest Wilson, it seemed, was in town. Having no other option, he inquired after Louisa, herself. He was quickly shown to the servants’ hall, where he waited, clutching the little pouch full of needles in one hand, wondering how the vagaries of fate had landed him here in this precise moment in this exact place.
Eli knew well and good that nothing could ever come of his feelings for Louisa, particularly as they were transparently unrequited and, frankly, nearly anyone would be a better option than Eli Wright. He also knew that Louisa had no earthly clue of Eli’s feelings for her and, given his close guard over them and her general naiveté, was unlikely to ever discover them and that she was perhaps the most guileless creature he’d ever met...all of which amounted to a lack of reasons to be nervous to stand here and return her needles to her...but Eli found he felt quite the opposite. He held the pouch in one hand and turned his hat over and over and over again in the other as he waited. He walked up one side of the room and down the other. He stopped to study closely the array of little bells - labeled things like ‘The Wisteria Room’ - that adorned one wall. He did all this and had waited, at the very most, one minute before she arrived.
His heart gave that all-too familiar squeeze at the sight of her smile and Eli hated himself for that; felt the usual strange waft of self-directed anger and nausea that made him very often seem irritable in her presence.
“Here,” he said, more brusquely than he’d intended. “Alice found your needles. I guess you left them when you were last home. She said you’d need them.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, gestured with his hat in one hand. “This is a nice place. They treat you well?”
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