Elizabeth with a B.

Biscuits and Tea

The next morning was frightfully cold, so she immediately set the fire alight, sitting by it for that extra warmth. The familiar weight of her father's absence hung in the air, a dull ache in her chest that refused to fade. The letter from Gilbert sat on her nightstand, untouched. She couldn't bring herself to open it, and she wouldn't. She would never forgive him for what he did, leaving her alone, but she could understand why.

She pulled on her clothes mechanically and tried to ignore the emptiness around her, although it seemed almost normal. The farm was much too big for only one person; every shadow in the house seemed to echo with the laughter and conversation of people who were no longer there. The floor creaked beneath her as she moved to the kitchen, her stomach hollow with the hunger she had been to stubborn to acknowledge the day before. Even today, she could not bear to prepare food for herself knowing that she was only cooking for herself, rather than the two boys she loved.

Billy had promised to come back today but she wasn't counting on it. Men had a way of making promises they couldn't keep to her. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, as she set a kettle to boil. She thought it might be Billy, his aggravating presence returning to make her feel both better and worse in equal measure. But as she opened the door, she was met with a beautiful, soft face - Prissy!

"Elizabeth," Prissy greeted quietly, her eyes full of sympathy. She carried a small basket in her hands, much like the one Billy had brought the night before, but with the kind of delicacy and grace that Prissy had perfected. Elizabeth swallowed hard, trying to find her voice, stepping aside to let her friend in. She smelled the sweet air Prissy emitted.

Prissy stepped into the house, her gaze sweeping over the sparsely furnished room. The emptiness was palpable. "I brought some tea and biscuits," Prissy said gently. "I thought you may appreciate something warm."

Elizabeth nodded gratefully, trying to muster a smile for her friend. "Thank you, Prissy," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Prissy set the basket down on the table, her movements slow and deliberate as if she were afraid to break the fragile silence that had settled over the house. She took a seat across from Elizabeth, her delicate hands folding in her lap as she watched her friend closely. They sat in silence for a moment, the steam from the kettle curling into the cold air between them. Prissy's eyes softened as she took in Elizabeth's pale, tired face. She could see the weight of everything Elizabeth was carrying - the grief, the exhaustion, the overwhelming responsibility that had been thrust upon her shoulders.

"Elizabeth," Prissy began softly, reaching out to place her hand on her friend's hand, holding it tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Elizabeth stared down at the table, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. She didn't want to cry. "You do not have to do this alone. Billy told me you came to see me. I can help you," she whispered, squeezing her friends hand.

Elizabeth's lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to believe her but it was so difficult. She had always been alone in some way or another, even before her father's death. And now, with Gilbert gone too, the weight of it all felt suffocating. How could Prissy, with her perfect life and her gentle hands, possibly understand?

"I don't know what to do, Prissy," Elizabeth finally admitted, her voice breaking. "I can't... I don't know how to keep the farm running. I don't know how to manage the books, or the land, or the animals. It's all falling apart, and I- I don't even know where to start."

"You know I can do the numbers. Perhaps I can teach you and you can start to understand. You do not need to have the answers right now."

"It's not that simple, Prissy," she said, her frustration and exhaustion mixing in her voice. "I'm not like you, Prissy. You have always been good at everything - school, numbers, keeping a household in order. I'm just trying to survive," she explained quietly.

Prissy's expression softened as her heart ached for her friend. "Elizabeth," she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. "You are stronger than you realize. You've always been strong, and you don't have to be perfect to make it through this, you just have to keep going."

Elizabeth's breath hitched in her throat as she looked down at her lap, her hands twisting in the fabric of her apron. She did not feel strong, not one bit. She felt like she was barely holding herself together, like one wrong move would shatter her completely. But Prissy's words, soft and steady, like she truly believed it, were a lifeline in the chaos of her mind.

"I don't know how," Elizabeth whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to keep going when everything is falling apart."

Prissy reached out her other hand to hold Elizabeth's, taking them both with a soft warmth. "You don't have to figure it out right away. You just lost your father and your brother. You haven't even had a chance to mourn. But I'm here and I will help you. I'll teach you," she said comfortingly, smiling softly.

Elizabeth finally smiled at her friend, feeling reassured and a little stronger. "Actually, Prissy...one Andrews has already offered to help me," she told her sheepishly. Prissy gasped.

"Who?" Prissy questioned, to which Elizabeth raised her eyebrow.

"Billy."

Prissy's jaw dropped, as if she could not even imagine Billy to give a helping hand. "That must be where he was last night," she said to herself. "And you were both here...alone?"

"Prissy!" She hit her friend with the rag playfully. "Well, he brought scones. And then he demanded that he help me. I would not let him, but then he showed me how bad things truly were and I...I had no choice. He stayed for a while to help me understand but I just didn't get it at all. He said he was going to come back."

Prissy gasped again, squeezing her friend's hand so tightly, Elizabeth thought her circulation would be cut off. "I cannot believe this! He is so peculiar and strange. I thought he hated you so."

Elizabeth shrugged, like she didn't quite know herself. "I thought he did too. I think he still does. I don't think he even knows why he did it."

"Perhaps he cares," Prissy offered. Elizabeth shook her head.

"I don't know. I'm still trying to find the catch. You know, the ulterior motive," Elizabeth explained softly, her mind racing.

"How scandalous..." Prissy said quietly.

"How scandalous, indeed. Which is why you must not tell," Elizabeth told her firmly, raising an eyebrow at her friend. "If I'm going to live through this winter, I will need all of the help I can get," she said decidedly, before getting up to pour the two of them some tea.

"Now, tell me all about school."