Bad Miss Bennet

by Jean Burnett

  Tomorrow was Sunday. I would have to plead an indisposition while Miles and Selena went to the service in the abbey, for appearances’ sake more than religious feeling.

  I returned to the breakfast booth and found it empty. My friends had walked to the hotel to listen to the musicians. Selena had been too preoccupied to notice my long absence. I wondered what Jerry would expect me to steal next. The crown jewels?

  Dinner that evening was a melancholy affair. Selena was obsessed with our presumed loss of reputation among the boring Bathonians in the neighbourhood. I was wrapped in thought about my position in Jerry’s affections and my status in Society. I realised that the two things were precariously linked.

  Miles found the atmosphere oppressive and escaped as quickly as possible to one of his drinking haunts. Selena barely noticed his departure as she chewed on a fingernail.

  ‘I am afraid that the Meyers and their friends will cut us if we appear at the Assembly Rooms. Word may have spread already,’ she moaned.

  ‘Then we will not go there,’ I replied. ‘What is the point? They are all half dead and of no consequence in society.’ Selena ignored this and moaned on. ‘I dare not even contemplate attending divine service at the abbey.’ I remembered my assignation in the gardens and hastily urged her to do her duty.

  ‘They cannot cut us dead in a house of worship. We must do the right thing and put on a brave face.’ Of course I had to promise to accompany my friends. I would need to develop a sudden indisposition at some point so that I could remain behind and sneak off to the gardens.

  In the event it proved difficult to evade Selena’s commands. She assembled us all with military precision and led the way, chin held high, towards the abbey. I feigned a twisted ankle and insisted on returning to the house leaning on Adelaide’s shoulder. That young woman was not fooled for a moment and said she would follow me at a distance as I made my way into the gardens, ‘for your own good, madam,’ as she put it. That would not do at all so I insisted that she return to the house.

  Once again Jerry popped up from the bushes like one of Mrs Radcliffe’s lurking ghosts. He gave me an affectionate peck on the cheek and came straight to the point.

  ‘Do you have the money, my sweet?’ I handed over my meagre winnings from the ill-fated card game while he complained at the paltry amount. I had kept back only a small part, dear reader. I urgently needed a new bonnet and Adelaide had not received her wages.

  ‘I must return to London forthwith if I am to capitalise on my ghostly status,’ he declared as he stowed away the money beneath his cape. ‘Bath is too small, the pickings are slim these days.’ He gave me his wicked smile. ‘How say you Mrs Wickham, shall I become Willy Raikes henceforth? The name has a certain ring to it. Or shall I be William Theophilus Raikes, gentleman’s gentleman? That could be a useful profession.’ I shook my head.

  ‘Are you not afraid of Captain Townshend, the Bow Street officer? He terrified me when we met. If he decided to investigate …’ My voice failed. Jerry patted my cheek reassuringly. ‘He will not pursue Jeremy Sartain. That man is recently deceased, do you not recall?’

  ‘Your body was not found,’ I reminded him. ‘Townshend is no fool, he will remember that.’

  Jerry refused to be cast down, declaring that he did not fear the little man in his kerseymere breeches, ‘Although he is a sharp one.’ Suddenly he broke off, mid-conversation, and peered out from under his hat at one of the servants from the hotel who was staring in his direction. ‘I believe that confounded rascal suspects something or has recognised me.’ He took my arm and we walked rapidly in the opposite direction, passing the waterfall.

  Visibly relaxed now that the danger appeared to have passed, Jerry picked me up, deposited me playfully in one of the swings, and soon had me soaring aloft, despite my protests. Soon there was a disturbance, as at least a dozen passers-by congregated around us laughing, pointing and shouting ribald comments. Two officials from the hotel pushed their way through the crowd, one seized Jerry and the other caught hold of the swing bringing me down to earth rapidly. I was all aflutter, clutching my bonnet to my head as the officials angrily demanded to know our names, telling us that we had flouted one of the local by-laws. The crowd agreed, chanting as one, ‘No swinging on Sundays!’ as we were dragged away. Several more respectable looking couples turned away in disgust as we passed.

  I was crimson with mortification and I knew instinctively that that I could not rely on any assistance from my companion. This proved correct when Jerry wrenched himself away from his captor. ‘I swear I’ll spoil your daylights,’ he said, before knocking the man to the ground. We were near the canal bank at that point and Jerry took a flying leap onto the passing London-bound boat, to the accompaniment of cheers from its occupants.

  My captor unwisely released me and rushed to the canal bank shouting at the disappearing boat. I hitched up my skirts and fled towards the nearest exit. Adelaide was waiting for me in the street having observed my humiliation from afar. Fortunately she had not recognised Jerry, but I cannot imagine what she had made of the situation.

  ‘I was about to return to the ’ouse, madam,’ she assured me as we hurried homewards, ‘when I had a feeling you was in trouble.’ We had walked for barely five minutes when a carriage rattled past and stopped suddenly a few yards ahead of us. I was convinced that I was about to be arrested and exhibited in the stocks or some such fate when an elegant arm waved from the window of the coach followed by the head of a man with a mane of blond hair.

  I climbed in without a moment’s hesitation and collapsed on the seat followed by Adelaide. I gasped my thanks to the handsome man sitting opposite. He seemed familiar, but I could not place him.

  ‘You appear to be in some difficulty, my dear,’ he remarked in a charming foreign accent. ‘I observed some of the scene in the garden.’ I blushed again.

  ‘I am afraid I inadvertently desecrated the Sabbath and I am sure the penalty for that is most unpleasant.’ He laughed and patted my hand.

  ‘At least it enabled me to meet you again, Mrs Wickham.’ At that moment I realised why this elegant gentleman seemed familiar to me. I had glimpsed him at Mrs Fitzherbert’s house. This was the Count, my mysterious admirer!

  The knowledge caused me deep embarrassment. Aware of my disordered appearance and the circumstances of my departure from the gardens – all witnessed by the Count – caused me to blush to the roots of my hair. I hastily patted my curls into place and adjusted my bonnet.

  ‘I assure you, sir,’ I began to stutter. ‘My behaviour is not usually so wild. I was caught up in an unfortunate escapade. I am quite mortified.’ My voice faded away and my blush deepened as the Count smiled reassuringly.

  ‘I am quite sure that you were the innocent party, my dear Mrs Wickham.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  I took a deep breath and leaned back against the luxurious upholstery. Adelaide in her corner watched us wide eyed. The Count was staying at No. 33 The Paragon as a guest of Mrs Sarah Siddons, the celebrated actress, and her husband. ‘I am a great admirer of her artistry.’ As the coach rattled along I collected my wits sufficiently to give the Count directions to Laura Place. I entreated him to join us for a dish of tea but he preferred to continue in his mysterious fashion, saying that he would call upon me in London when I returned. He deposited us outside the house and drove away immediately.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We entered the house and I had only a few minutes in which to compose myself and rest my foot on a stool before Selena and Miles arrived, the former gazing suspiciously at my injured limb before announcing that they had been ignored by everyone at the abbey and we might as well return to London forthwith.

  Later, I recounted to Selena my meeting with the Count and his refusal to enter the house. ‘He must have something to hide. Like a wife,’ she said. My friend can be very cynical at times.

  ‘He simply wished to avoid incommoding us,’ I insisted. Selena smiled in a superior man
ner. I fear she is jealous of my good fortune in attracting such an admirer. Sometimes I catch her looking at Miles in a speculative manner. I decided not to confess my other misdemeanours at this stage. There was no point in adding to the household woes. I did venture to point out that if we returned to London we would not have a roof over our heads and I would not be able to receive the Count.

  ‘I have a little money,’ Selena said. ‘We can rent some rooms in a more modest part of town.’

  ‘That would not be the thing at all, my dear,’ Miles argued. ‘If we are to continue with the card parties we need suitable surroundings.’

  ‘And what do you suggest, husband dear?’ Selena snapped at him before putting her head in her hands. I felt downcast for all of us. Our dreams and fantasies were destined to remain nothing more. Miles did not seem at all upset. He patted his chest in a self-congratulatory manner, patted his wife’s head and announced that he had some capital news.

  ‘And I have not even had to resort to selling more etchings.’ He explained that he had met an old military acquaintance in one of Bath’s drinking dives who had offered him the use of his house in Portman Square for six months at a peppercorn rent.

  ‘My friend will be abroad for that time and we will act as custodians. We must make our fortune quickly, my dears.’ He sat down with a silly smile on his cherubic features while Selena rushed across to him and covered his face with kisses. She vowed to overlook his visits to the lady chiropodist – for the moment – and pronounced him the finest of husbands. To this touching scene I added my congratulations and promised to contribute what I could. I still had Mr Darcy’s allowance if I could keep it from Jerry.

  Lord Finchbrook was expected down from London later that afternoon and he brought gloomy news.

  ‘Getheridge has been arrested for fraudulent dealings. They say the bank will fall.’ Everyone looked meaningfully at me, no doubt expecting lamentations, but I had not been exactly intimate with the man. Selena remarked that she was glad not to have had money in that particular establishment. The men agreed and I remembered my modest allowance again.

  ‘My money!’ I squealed. ‘Mr Darcy deposits it quarterly at that bank.’ Lord Finchbrook said he was sure that Darcy could bear the loss. ‘I must write to him at once,’ I muttered. The news quite destroyed my appetite for the boiled mutton in white sauce with boiled onions – a favourite of the Prince Regent, according to the cook. We were attended assiduously by the servants in the presence of Lord Finchbrook but it availed them little. Selena remained determined not to give them a penny when we took our leave.

  I retired to my room later and composed a gloomy note to my brother-in-law informing him of the bank’s affairs and begging him not to leave me destitute. My small allowance from my father was also paid into that same bank.

  Afterwards, I sat by the window trying to collect my thoughts and formulate a plan. I wondered whether my friend was right about the Count. Did he have a wife and were his intentions, therefore, strictly dishonourable? I wondered also whether in fact I cared, especially if he offered to take me to the continent.

  My family would be excruciatingly mortified. That thought cheered me somewhat.

  There was little else to be cheerful about. The news was all of riots in the streets, failed crops and bad weather. The Duke of Wellington was to leave London soon to become our ambassador in Paris, but I was no nearer to achieving my goal unless I had the help of my new admirer. And what would become of Getheridge – or Jerry? I shuddered when I thought of my involvement with two men who were both felons. I needed to meet the Count soon. At least an aristocratic diplomat would be unimpeachable, unless there was another outbreak of revolution on the continent.

  After his somewhat precipitate departure Jerry lost no time in returning to Bath, despite his avowed contempt for the city. I fondly hoped that his swift return meant that he could not bear a parting from me. Alas, I was to discover that he had more pressing financial reasons and my assistance was needed.

  He contrived to meet me at St Aldhelm’s church, an unlikely spot where we could converse undisturbed on pretence of inspecting the memorials. I was to notify him in advance whether any runners were in the vicinity.

  After I had satisfied myself that there was no danger I found a child from the perishing and dangerous class who could be entrusted to deliver a note to the Crown and Thistle public house in Avon Street where Jerry was lodged, in what circumstances I shuddered to think. Later, he announced quite casually that he was sharing a room with several hobbledehoys and a prostitute calling herself Freelove Flower.

  He told me that he had marked a certain gentleman in Bath, Mr Nathaniel Davenport, and planned to burgle his house knowing that he kept large sums of money at home. If that stratagem proved to be too dangerous he planned a spot of blackmail. Jerry knew of the man’s activities in Walcot Street where there was a home for fallen women who were persuaded to follow a new occupation as laundresses. Davenport recruited women from this place to attend lewd gatherings at his house with groups of men. Messages and instructions were conveyed to the women in Davenport’s laundry.

  Jerry had already befriended one of the women who called herself Belle Fleur. She acted as a spy for him – and who knew what else? Jerry had an effortless way with females, as I knew to my cost. He was irresistible, a force of nature.

  ‘I will need your assistance, my love.’ I had been dreading an announcement of this kind. I knew I would be called upon to give aid in one form or another. Jerry had subtle and not so subtle ways of reminding me of our original agreement and, as always, I felt powerless to refuse.

  ‘You must distract Davenport while I gain access to the house,’ he informed me.

  ‘What about the servants?’ I offered this feeble resistance and he dismissed it. ‘There are only two male servants living in the house and I have arranged for Freelove Flower to keep them occupied.’ This was the woman from the inn of doubtful virtue. Some shreds of self respect came to my defence.

  ‘I will not distract anyone in the manner you required of me in Brighton,’ I said vehemently. ‘The Prince Regent was all very well but—’ Jerry interrupted me using the caressing, wheedling tone I knew well.

  ‘There will be no need of that, my love. You will simply need to engage Davenport in conversation long enough to enable me to enter the house unseen.’

  ‘We have not been introduced!’ He sighed and instructed me to be outside the house with Adelaide at the hour when Davenport always left the premises, at eleven o’clock. ‘Appear to twist your ankle, or anything that will oblige him to assist you for a few minutes. You will think of something. Leave the rest to me.’

  I attempted to strike a bargain, but instead, I found myself begging for some moments alone with him. He gave me a smile and a peck on the cheek before departing swiftly. He would promise anything to gain my assistance. Jerry was truly cast in the same mould as my late husband. I am always attracted to cads of the worst kind.

  Unfortunately, Selena insisted on accompanying us on the walk. I fussed over an imaginary stone in my shoe outside No. 26 Bennett Street while both Selena and Adelaide eyed me with suspicion.

  ‘What ruse are you employing, Lydia? You have had a number of trifling accidents recently and you make an astonishing recovery from them.’ Truly one’s friends cannot always be relied on for support at crucial moments.

  Adelaide contented herself with a sarcastic, ‘Modom?’ I replied with a terse.

  ‘Trust me.’

  Mr Davenport duly appeared but he seemed reluctant to be of assistance. He had a narrow face and a ferret-like visage. It was not difficult to imagine him indulging in all kinds of perversions behind closed doors.

  I was invited to rest on the doorstep but he made no move to invite me inside. Selena became impatient; she tugged at my arm and grew fractious.

  ‘We must return at once to Laura Place,’ she announced firmly, then hissed in my ear. ‘Whatever game you are playing, Lydia, stop it a
t once!’ Adelaide grasped my other arm and I almost became the centre of a tug of war. Mr Davenport looked on impatiently with a few by-your-leaves, but made no attempt to depart. The front door remained obstinately closed and I wondered how Jerry would gain entry.

  At that moment a woman I assumed to be Belle Fleur arrived clutching a pile of laundry which obscured her face. She disappeared rapidly down the area steps, ignored by Mr Davenport. I gave up and allowed myself to be led away. Later, I discovered that the laundress had been Jerry in one of his disguises. His assistant entertained the servants in the kitchen while Jerry had the run of the house.

  I heard nothing from him for a few days while Selena and Miles made preparations for our removal to Portman Square. No doubt my highwayman had also departed for London with his spoils. There was a report of the robbery in the Bath Chronicle and extra vigilance on the part of the watch, but the mysterious laundress had vanished. I wondered what financial advantage I had gained from the enterprise. Jerry was not keeping the terms of our agreement.

  Miles made a last visit to the lady chiropodist in Abbey Churchyard where he met ‘a bluestocking kind of woman called Mary Shelley’ who lived in the rooms above. Selena and I looked meaningfully at each other.

  ‘Does she by chance have any etchings to sell?’ My friend asked in a dangerous tone. Miles looked astonished, saying that they had merely exchanged good mornings as they passed each other.

  It was the lady chiropodist who had offered the gossip.

  ‘The woman is said to be the wife of the notorious poet Shelley. He is elsewhere, it seems, and she occupies herself with sketching and writing books. Most unwholesome for a woman,’ he added.

  At the last moment Selena was reluctant to leave Bath, despite the allure of a free house in London. She loved the place and insisted that we should all attend the Assembly Rooms one more time before our departure, having overcome her fear of public disapproval. Miles and I agreed with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, but whenever my friend set her mind on something she could not be dissuaded. You may imagine my lack of interest in this event, dear reader, when I say that I wore a simple, pleated, blue silk gauze gown much altered and reworked. It did not seem worthwhile to go to any great trouble. My spirits were low and brought even lower by my latest encounter with Jerry. I resolved to start afresh in London with the Count, if the fates allowed.