by G. M. Best
‘And if you have the friendship for me which you have often professed, you will keep me company if I flee?’
Mrs Newton’s jaw dropped but she covered her confusion by quickly saying, ‘That I will, ma’am, to the world’s end, but I beg you to consider the consequence before you undertake any rash action. Where can you go?’
‘I thought I might go to Lady Overbury’s house, where I can be with Tom.’
‘Oh dear, ma’am, you cannot go there. When she hears that you have run away from the master she will hand you back to him.’
Sophia laughed. ‘You are wrong, Newton. I am sure Lady Overbury will both receive and protect me till my father can be brought to some reason.’
‘Ma’am, I fear the master will call upon the authorities and forcibly take you back.’
Her mistress felt a sudden sinking sensation but refused to be cowed. ‘Then we must flee Bath and hide in some inn. I thank God my legs are very able to carry me.’
The maid clasped her hands together and held them to her breast as if she were to pluck out her heart. ‘Oh heaven! Do you know what you are saying? It will be dark before you have gone very far and would you think of walking about the country alone and at night?’
‘Not alone. You have said that you will accompany me.’
‘Yes, to be sure, I will follow you wherever you go, but you had almost as good be alone for I cannot defend you against any robbers or other villains. They would ravish us both!’ The maid rolled her eyes as if she was already facing a terrible attacker and reached out to clutch Sophia’s hands. ‘Besides, ma’am, consider the time of year and how cold it is. We shall be frozen to death.’
‘A good brisk pace will defend us from the cold and I will take a pistol.’
Her maid drew in her breath and visibly winced. ‘Dear ma’am, you frighten me even more. I mortally hate firearms for so many accidents happen by them.’
Sophia could not help laughing. ‘My dear Newton, you always fear the worst! I have money from my father and, once we have walked enough distance to hide our tracks, I will hire a conveyance to take us further. I promise you that you will be rewarded to the very utmost of my power if you will attend me.’
Seeing her mistress’s determination, Mrs Newton ceased trying to dissuade her. To prevent Lady Crowthorpe becoming suspicious it was agreed that the maid would pack her mistress’s clothes as if in preparation for the journey home. This left Sophia free to go to the jeweller’s shop where she intended to deceive the servant who accompanied her into believing that she had spent the money her father had provided. It was agreed that they would endeavour to be away from the house by eleven at the latest, thus giving them at least an hour’s start before their flight was discovered. However, no sooner had her mistress gone then Mrs Newton began to develop serious doubts about what she had promised to do. Reluctantly she decided that she might better serve her lady by betraying her intentions to Lady Crowthorpe. With that in mind she sought out Caroline Squibble, that lady’s maidservant with the intention of asking her to arrange a meeting.
Squibble was quite a few years younger and certainly far prettier than Mrs Newton, but she was not an easy woman. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she thought herself far above the other servants. Already the more discerning observer could see that her beauty would soon be marred by her discontented mind and bad-tempered spirit. Only to her mistress did she put on a humble attitude. Before Mrs Newton could say anything, she began a diatribe against them all having to leave Bath. ‘I would not mind if all this packing meant that my mistress was returning to London because when we are in the City we visit none but men and women of quality. But there is no pleasure in residing at Mr Westbrook’s house. All he thinks about is hunting and farming. He does not even keep servants that a person of my experience can judge proper company. Of course, I do not speak on your account for you are a civilized woman, Mrs Newton. When you have seen a little more of the world, I should not be ashamed to walk with you in St James’s Park.’
‘Are you saying that you’d be shamed to walk with me now?’ asked Mrs Newton incredulously.
‘I think you will agree that there is some difference between you and me,’ replied the maid in as superior a tone as she could muster.
‘Yes, there is. I am no hoity toity upstart and I have a fine mistress unlike the ugly old cat you serve!’
Lady Crowthorpe’s maid scowled back angrily. ‘You common hussy! Your rudeness shows the meanness of your birth as well as your poor education, and both very properly qualify you to be the serving woman of a mere country girl.’
‘Don’t abuse m’lady,’ retaliated Mrs Newton. ‘I won’t take that from you or anyone. She’s ten thousand times better than yours in looks and manners.’
What more might have been said between the two maids was lost because at that moment Lady Crowthorpe entered the room. Seeing her mistress, Caroline Squibble burst into false tears and immediately looked to her for support. ‘My lady, I have received such rude treatment from this woman and, although I could have despised all she said to me, she has had the affrontery to call you ugly – yes, madam, she called you an old ugly cat to my face!’
‘How dare you speak of me in that fashion!’ screeched Lady Crowthorpe at Mrs Newton. ‘If my brother does not instantly discharge you I will never sleep in his house again. I will go to him now and have you dismissed at once!’
‘Dismissed!’ cried Mrs Newton. ‘And suppose I am? There are other places I can take. Thank heaven good servants need not want for work in Bath. And if you turn away all who think you plain, you’ll not find a servant to replace me. Let me tell you that!’
Lady Crowthorpe swept out of the room with a countenance so full of rage that she resembled one of the Furies rather than a human being. The two maids being left alone began to exchange further words and this then led to a fight in which Mrs Newton emerged the victor, though not without the loss of some hair and a considerable amount of damage to sections of her dress. However, her triumph proved short-lived because Mr Westbrook then arrived on the scene. His ear had been well and truly bent by his sister and he was in no mood to debate the rights and wrongs of what had happened. He promptly ordered Mrs Newton to finish packing her mistress’s bags and then be gone because her career as his daughter’s maid was over.
‘Don’t worry, sir. I’ll leave well before midday,’ she replied. She did not add that it would be in the company of his daughter. All thought of betraying her mistress’s plan to run away was now forgotten.
Westbrook stomped back downstairs and threw himself into a chair. It was only as time passed and his temper began to subside that he began to be worried about what his daughter might say about the loss of her maid. He was therefore pleasantly surprised to find that, on Sophia’s return from her shopping expedition, she took it very well and did not oppose his decision. He took this as another encouraging sign of her newfound obedience to his wishes and relayed as much to his sister. Lady Crowthorpe was rather surprised that her niece had taken her side in the matter but welcomed the news. However, she made no indication of her gratitude and contented herself by saying to Sophia, ‘Once that woman has completed your packing, tell her to be gone and not to expect any good reference from us.’ To this acidic comment, her niece made no reply but simply nodded her acquiescence.
It came as something of a surprise to both brother and sister, therefore, when Sophia did not come down to the drawing room at noon as they had requested she should. ‘Damn the girl, why is she keeping us waiting? The coach is now loaded with our luggage and ready to depart,’ grumbled her father.
‘It is a woman’s right to occasionally make a man wait,’ replied Lady Crowthorpe, who was still feeling more favourably towards her niece.
Ten minutes passed and Westbrook decided that he could wait no longer. He summoned one of his servants to bring his daughter down immediately. Five minutes more passed and then the servant returned alone. Looking rather flustered, he bowed t
o his master and said, ‘I regret, sir, that Miss Sophia cannot be found.’
‘Not to be found! Zounds and damnation! What do you mean she cannot be found?’
‘She appears not to be anywhere in the house, sir.’
‘George, don’t get yourself in a passion for nothing,’ interposed Lady Crowthorpe, ‘I expect the foolish girl was a bit upset when her maid left and has probably gone for a short walk in the garden before facing the confines of the coach. Have the man look out there.’
The servant once again did as he was bid and then returned to say that he still could not find her. Westbrook was furious and he began going round the house roaring her name and, when that failed to produce any response, he did the same in the garden, but all he achieved was to eventually make himself hoarse. He returned to the drawing room, threw himself dejectedly in his chair, and said despairingly to his sister, ‘I think the minx has fled with her maid.’
Lady Crowthorpe hid her own discomfiture at this news by looking at him with disdain. ‘I am sorry, Brother,’ she said, ‘but you have only yourself to blame. You always gave Sophia too much freedom. Have I not always told you that no daughter should be permitted to have a will of her own? Had I been entrusted with her education when she was a child I would have taken pains to eradicate any headstrong behaviour. Now her reputation and that of this family will be ruined because I expect her saucy maid has encouraged her to run off with that villain Mr Jones. This is all your doing for indulging her too often.’
‘Blood and fury! Do not talk nonsense, woman! If thou wast a man I would have you horse-whipped. Have I not regularly threatened to disinherit Sophia and to confine her to a room on bread and water if she dared disobey me?’
‘Would any man in his senses have provoked a daughter by such threats? Women are not to be hectored and bullied into compliance. They are best won over by gentle means. You have a roughness in your manner that no woman but myself would bear.’ Lady Crowthorpe pursed her lips and muttered dismissively, ‘I do not wonder that my niece has fled from you!’
‘You seem to have forgotten your own constant chiding of her. Perhaps had you not scolded her so frequently she would have listened to her father! And it was you who first suggested that she should marry that wretched Mr Burnett. You said he would make her a fine husband.’
‘And so he will in fortune. He is Squire Woodforde’s heir.’
‘But had we selected a better man for her she might not have been so attracted to that coxcomb Jones. You were not present when the squire and I had to virtually demand that his nephew marry Sophia! What kind of lover is that to win her heart? It was an ill day that I ever listened to you on the matter! I had no trouble with my daughter until then.’
This was too much for Lady Crowthorpe. She drew herself up to her full height and glared at her brother as if, like a Medusa, she could turn him to stone. ‘You dare to blame me for Sophia’s wanton behaviour! The girl has shown herself to be no better than a common trollop. I have preached to her constantly against love. I have told her a thousand times that her fancy for her childhood companion was all folly and wickedness. I have told her repeatedly that her role is to do as her family dictates. Yet she has chosen love over the family’s honour. Let her live on love if she can. Let her carry her love to market and see if she can exchange it for a loaf of bread or a rasher of bacon. I can scarce forgive myself for wasting so much time on her! As for you, Brother, I will not endure your bad temper any longer than she could. Please be aware therefore that I shall not be returning to your country house. Instead I will take the first coach I can to London.’ And with that Lady Crowthorpe stormed out of the room like a ship leaving port.
‘A good riddance too!’ growled Westbrook after her retreating figure. For the next quarter of an hour he sat still and alone thinking solely of his daughter. Then he leaned forward and put his hands to his head and, though there was none to see it, shed bitter tears.
8
THE AGENT PROVOCATEUR
By two o’clock in the afternoon a highly agitated Westbrook was deep in conversation with Squire Woodforde at his lodgings in the city. Preliminary enquiries about where his daughter and her maid might have gone had proved fruitless. His wise friend advised that the news of Sophia’s disappearance should as far as possible be hidden from all others, including John Burnett. ‘Give out that she has gone with her maid to the house of a relative to discuss plans for her forthcoming wedding,’ he advised. ‘Once you have discovered her whereabouts I am sure this matter can be satisfactorily concluded with her reputation intact.’
‘And how do you suppose that I can discover her whereabouts?’ asked a bewildered Westbrook. ‘No one said that they had seen either of them when I made enquiries around our lodgings.’
‘Make some discreet enquiries in neighbouring inns and you will probably be able to find where she has gone,’ replied Woodforde, giving his friend a reassuring look. ‘You can be sure that she and her maid will have hired some form of transport and they will have given their proposed destination. You should then be able to follow and catch them.’
‘And if I cannot?’
Woodforde cleared his throat before delivering in as calm a manner as he could an answer that he knew his friend would not like. ‘Then I know who will help us find her. Sooner or later she will try and make contact with Tom and I am sure that I can persuade him to betray to us where she is.’
‘Damn the man! I’ll not go cap in hand to that coxcomb!’ roared Westbrook, thumping the table at which they sat.
‘No one is asking you to do that. While you seek for a lead on where she has gone, I will speak to Tom. I will go at once to the house in Queen Square on the excuse that I have heard of his injuries and wish to offer him my sympathy. Once in his room I will explain matters to him and why he must not permit Sophia to destroy her reputation. I will also make clear that he must give no hint to Lady Overbury of what has happened because I fear she would have the tale all around Bath by this evening. Believe me, he knows what he owes to my benevolence and he will do as I ask in this matter.’
‘I wish I had your confidence, sir. I suggest that you make sure he understands his future is dependent upon his compliance!’
‘Threatening him will not help our cause. It will only serve to antagonize him. If he has any feeling for Sophia he will understand that he has not the right to ruin her.’
Westbrook was not convinced and his manner showed it, but he reluctantly agreed to let his friend tell Jones about his daughter’s flight. Then he promptly departed on his search for her. Within half an hour of his departure Woodforde was presenting himself at the house in Queen Square. The new housekeeper, who had taken up her duties just before his arrival, opened the door. Mrs Fleeting was a woman in her fifties and was not very striking to look at. Her face was plain and her figure rather squat and square, but she had an efficient manner and the air of authority that normally accompanied the role. She welcomed the Squire politely and led him into the parlour where Lady Overbury was sitting. After exchanging greetings, Woodforde requested to be taken up to Jones’s bedroom. Lady Overbury asked the housekeeper to send her maid upstairs first so that the injured man could be alerted to the presence of his visitor. Once that had been done, Darr was to return and escort the squire to Tom’s room. This was a deliberate move on her part because Lady Overbury thought it more likely that he would permit himself to be moved by Jones’s plight if she was not present.
Woodforde was indeed deeply shocked at the sight of Tom’s extensive bruises and injuries. Just as Lady Overbury had hoped, all his former affection returned. However, this did not prevent him from abandoning his mission. Once he had offered his sympathies, he told Jones how Sophia Westbrook had run away. Jones was delighted at the determination Sophia had shown in resisting a marriage to Burnett, but he was ashamed that her love for him had led her to take a step that threatened to dishonour her and wreck any chances of her future happiness. ‘I will be honest, sir,’ he said
a trifle shakily. ‘The thought of life without Sophia makes my future seem meaningless and the idea of her marrying John almost rents my heart asunder, but I will play no part in condoning her rash action. I am not so foolish that I cannot see that as a penniless man I can offer her nothing but ruin and beggary.’
‘I am pleased that you see it that way, Tom,’ replied Woodforde, impressed at such a manly response.
‘I promise you, sir, that, once I am recovered, I will resume my journey to the colonies and thus I will fly forever from her sight. Should she try and contact me before then, I will beg her to forget me and to return home. All I ask in return is that you reconsider whether John is the right choice for her. I know he is your nephew but Sophia deserves the best and there are far better men than him.’
‘Are you sure you can do this, Tom?’ questioned his benefactor, ignoring the comment about Burnett. ‘What will you say should she try and weaken your resolve?’
‘If necessary I will make her believe that I have never loved her.’ This brave resolution was said with honest fervour, although the prospect of such an eventuality made Tom Jones’s heart begin to throb with anxiety.
‘I am not sure that you could say such a thing to her face and make her believe it,’ replied Woodforde somewhat awkwardly, because he knew how much it was costing the injured man to offer what he had. ‘A letter saying that you do not love her might be preferable and would certainly be less painful than saying it to her face.’ Hardening his own heart, he brought pen and paper to Jones from the desk in the room. ‘Write what is necessary,’ he commanded. In his weakened state Jones did as he was bid and Woodforde read the resulting letter:
Dearest Sophia,
I know the goodness and tenderness of your heart and I would avoid giving you any pain, but I have resolved to go to the colonies as soon as I can and fly ever more from your presence. Fate makes this necessary. I must have employment and your good name requires that you should forget a wretch like me. Think I never loved you and think how truly I deserve your scorn. It was presumptious of me to ever court your favours. I am unable to say more. May guardian angels protect you for ever!
