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“It’s not for me to tell you,” the old woman clammed up suddenly.

“When he was a child you said,” Lizzie said slowly, and suddenly she remembered the heated exchange in the beer tent. “He said you never raised him,” she remembered. “He said – ”

“That’s not true!” the old woman burst out hotly. “He was all of eight years when he went in and no more’n ten and a half when he came back out again.”

Lizzie stared at her. Two and a half years. “And he was the only one of the three brothers?” she asked, feeling stunned. “How could that happen?”

“It ain’t my story to tell!” the old woman grouched. “Where’s that tea, girl?”

Lizzie clutched her skirts between her fingers as she strove to remain calm. “I shall ask him, you can be sure of that,” she warned as she poured tea unsteadily into a cup. “And your tea will be weak as you have not given it time to brew.” She passed the cup across at the glaring old woman.

“Huh!” Ma Toomes muttered darkly. She considered Lizzie over the rim of her cup as she sipped it and grimaced. “I’ve a sister and a niece in Shropshire,” she said in an abrupt change of subject that made Lizzie’s head spin.

“Oh?”

“Benedict ain’t the only one who craved a respectable life,” she sniffed. “So did Mabel. Married a farmer, she did. Dull fellow, dull but steady.”

“I see. You think Benedict takes after your sister? By marrying into staid respectability.”

Ma Toomes gave a shout of laughter. “You’ve plenty of faults, but dullness ain’t one of ’em. No, I seen the way he looks at you,” she said screwing up her mouth. “I’ve eyes in me head, don’t I?” She shook head. “But I do say as that’s how you got your clutches into him in the first place. Hankering for respectability,” she nodded. “That’s what the workhouse does for you.”

Involuntarily, Lizzie thought of Betsy. Was that why Benedict had become engaged to her cousin? The solid respectability of Sitwell Place was beyond question. “You’re quite wrong,” she heard herself say aloud. “When Benedict married me, I was engaged in slopwork and living hand to mouth with eight other females in two rooms in the east end of London.” She saw Ma Toomes’ eyes widen and felt a momentary satisfaction in scoring the old woman off.

Ma soon recovered however. “Well, madam, you may have been brought low,” she answered dismissively. “But it’s plain enough what stock you come from.” She fell into a brooding silence for a moment before adding bitterly, “The Toomes men never have much luck with marriage.” She fell silent a moment, and Lizzie remembered her railing on this subject before. Something about Benedict’s mother and Maggie both running off and leaving their husbands.

“His father’s always been a fool where women are concerned,” Ma started up again abruptly. “Always thought more of whatever bit of petticoat had his attention than he ever did of his own kin. It was a dark day that he allowed Ben to go through the gates of that place. Wrought all manner of damage on our family, it did. Short-sighted, that’s what Jedidiah Toomes was and always shall be. He thought it would learn Ben a lesson, but all it taught him was to nurse a grudge and see himself as separate from us all.”

“Shall I ever meet him, do you think?” Lizzie asked, gathering Jedidiah was her father-in-law.

“Not if Ben can help it. He loathes his pa like poison. Always did, even when he was a boy.” Ma Toomes paused. “I don’t say his father was a saint. He never had much work in him, my Jed. Too fond of the bottle too. He’s not the one to keep his old mother in comfort in her old age.”

“Where is he now?” Lizzie asked curiously. “Does he still work the fairs?” If so, surely their paths would cross at some point.

Ma Toomes gazed out across the field opposite her. “He’d taken up with some slut last time I saw him,” she said disparagingly. “Daphne’s mother, as it happens. They were running a pickled whelk stall and talking about moving to the coast.” Dimly, Lizzie remembered Frank telling them this before about Daphne’s mother being Pa Toomes’ latest woman.

“He was the one as introduced Daphne into the family,” Ma said dryly. “Jed had some notion she would suit Frank better than Maggie. He’s the one told lied to Frank about her taking up with another man.” Lizzie stared at Ma as the old woman steadily returned her gaze. Did she know what she was admitting? Lizzie wondered. That they had sabotaged Frank’s marriage and conspired to get rid of his wife behind his back? “Mebbe I should have stood firm against the scheme,” Ma said mutinously. “But, truth to tell, Maggie’s martyred act was getting on my nerves!” She hitched her shoulder irritably. “She didn’t have your spirit, girl. Never argued back, did Maggie, just fell into her mopes. And she had no cause to be so timid, for Frank never raised a hand to her, that I’ll swear.”

Lizzie gazed at the old woman aghast. “Frank is torn up about her leaving,” she managed to gasp out. “Benedict says he’s started to take to drink.”

Ma Toomes took a deep breath in and out. “I know that, you little fool! Why else do you think I’m tellin’ you all this? First Jed messed up Ben, and now he’s done the same to Frank!” She gnashed her teeth together angrily. “I thought I’d run you off and rely on Daphne to hold things together, but all things considered, you’re the better bet.” She gave Lizzie a level look. “Daphne hasn’t managed to snare Frank, and hell would freeze over before Ben let you go, so I’m retiring from the ring.” She cast her eyes up and down Lizzie impartially. “You’ll carry it off, I have no doubt.”

“What do you mean?” Lizzie asked, feeling alarmed.

Ma Toomes threw her scrawny arms in the air. “I’m too old to sort out this mess! So, I’m leaving it to you to sort this family out.”

Lizzie stared as Ma rose to her feet and cast the remains of her teacup away. “I’m leavin’,” she said abruptly, “before the boys get back. You can keep that cloak, if you’ve a use for it. My gift to you.”

“Where will you go?” Lizzie stammered. What would she even tell the brothers? “Into Shropshire?”

Ma gave a mirthless chuckle. “Aye, and it’ll give Mabel the shock of her life. Always said she has a place for me at her farmhouse table, has Mabel. She never really thought I’d take her up on it, though,” she said with satisfaction. “That’s the thing about respectable folks,” she remarked caustically. “Always a slave to their duty. Oftentimes, it comes back to bite ’em in the backside!”

“Well, at least you won’t wind up in the workhouse,” Lizzie pointed out and received a vicious glare in response.

“Well!” Ma Toomes expostulated. “Good luck to you! You’ll need it. And if that no good son of mine ever does turn up like a bad penny, you’ll send him away with a flea in his ear, if you’ve got any sense.” She looked Lizzie up and down again and nodded, stomping off in the direction from which she’d come.

“Wait!” Lizzie half rose off her wooden stool, but what could she do except call a feeble ‘goodbye’ after her? Sebastian barked, but did not move from his spot next to the fire, so it was clearly a half-hearted gesture even from him.

Had Ma even told Frank and Daphne she was leaving? Lizzie sank back down onto her seat and gulped the last of her tea down in hopes of fortification. Her head felt in a whirl that Benedict’s grandmother could think she was the one to sort things out. She bit her thumbnail a moment, lost in thought. Only the lingering taste of the soap reminded her she was but halfway through her washing. With a frustrated sigh, Lizzie returned to the washtub and plunged herself back into her work.