by Jean Burnett
Without waiting for a reply he jumped down, placed an arm around my waist and lifted me on to the horse. An unexpected thrill coursed through my veins for a moment. Did I really find this man attractive, or was it the thrill of doing something calculated to enrage the Darcys? I smiled down at him and fluttered my eyelashes, thanking him for his solicitude. Assuring me that he was honoured to be of service he remounted and we trotted off with his arms securely encircling me.
It seemed to me that my rescuer was in no hurry to reach the house and we passed the time very agreeably, chatting and laughing before reaching the stables. As we entered the house Georgiana was waiting. When she saw us both in a damp condition she turned quite green with emotion, a shade matching the virulent viridian velvet gown she was wearing. Her fiancé explained in great detail how he had found me at the side of the road in the rain and had carried me back to Pemberley.
‘Indeed,’ I murmured gratefully, ‘you were most attentive.’ Georgiana directed waves of hate towards me as she half dragged Theodore away. I wondered how long it would be before Darcy was informed. I returned to my room to change, feeling far more cheerful than of late, until Adelaide came to tell me that there was still no mail for me. How can they all have deserted me – the Count, Selena and Miles? Of course, my brother-in-law was at the root of this. I would have my revenge in due course.
Adelaide read my mind yet again. She declared that even she was not able to pilfer letters from my brother-in-law’s desk, if that was where they were hidden. If only my lost highwayman were available. After pilfering from the Prince Regent, my brother-in-law would not have presented a challenge.
At lunch I could not detect any change in my sister and Darcy which meant that Georgiana had not yet had an opportunity to blacken my character further. Excusing myself from further socialising I retreated to the library where I was re-reading William Beckford’s exotic novel Vathek. Quickly, I lost myself in its pages scarcely noticing when the door opened and the Hon. Theodore appeared.
‘I trust you have not come to rescue me again, sir?’ I twinkled at him. He walked across the room and peered over my shoulder at the book.
‘I would be delighted to rescue you whenever necessary, madam.’ He added, ‘I see we share similar tastes in reading.’
‘I love a man who enjoys a good novel!’ I exclaimed. He perched on the arm of the chair, adding in a lowered voice, ‘I am sure we have many things in common, Mrs Wickham.’
‘And I am sure that your fiancée would be most aggrieved if she heard you express such sentiments.’ He smiled a roguish smile and put his hand on my arm, apparently unperturbed by the prospect.
At that very moment the door opened and Georgiana stood on the threshold. She took in the scene with one glance, noting her fiancé’s hand on my arm. She uttered a loud scream and fled, calling for her brother. ‘I fear, sir, there will be repercussions.’ I looked pointedly at his hand and removed it from my arm. The Hon. Theodore laughed and walked over to the bookshelves.
‘I was merely admiring my host’s collection. You happened to be here already. Can we be blamed if my fiancée is given to hysterics?’
‘I think I shall retire to my room for a rest,’ I declared, offering my hand. He kissed it and ushered me out of the room. I left him to face whatever would result from our meeting. Adelaide and I laughed a great deal as I recounted the story. She declared that the Hon. Theo had a reputation as a womaniser and had sired a child by a village girl whom he still visited. I wished Georgiana joy of him.
I had not been in my room more than an hour when from my bed I observed a note being surreptitiously pushed under the door. I replaced my facemask, lay back and continued thinking about Paris. I had no stomach for more intrigue, but Adelaide was soon waving the note under my nose.
It was in the form of a wager – unsigned. It read:
T bets Mrs W one guinea that her charms will overpower a certain person before the week is out.
The effrontery of the man! My position was difficult enough at the moment without the Hon. Theo’s attentions. Indeed, a novel could be written on the subject entitled Parlous at Pemberley. Adelaide, as usual, had an opinion.
‘Either ’e don’t fancy being married to Miss Georgiana or ’e ’as some kind of ’old over Mr Darcy and can do whatever ’e pleases,’ she declared.
‘That is absurd, Adelaide. The idea of my brother-in-law allowing anyone to have a hold over him is fanciful in the extreme.’
‘That depends, ’e must want to get ’is sister married off real bad.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘Will you take the bet, madam?’ I gave her a light slap and commanded her to fetch me a dish of tea.
When I descended the stairs that evening for a pre-dinner sherry in the salon, the atmosphere was as icy as ever, but no words were spoken. Georgiana, looking pale and red-eyed, ignored me completely. Darcy looked distracted, Lizzie gave me a strained smile and the Hon. Theo gave me a sly wink.
I had left the note on the night table in my room, dear reader, so you can imagine my consternation at the events which transpired during the meal. After a warming game soup, I toyed with a fricassee of pheasant. The conversation was stilted at best.
‘You are looking particularly lovely tonight, my dear.’ The Hon. Theo bestowed a patronising smile on his fiancée. She sniffed loudly and dropped her fork to the floor. In the ensuing scuffle Georgiana appeared to be fumbling with something in her reticule.
When everyone straightened up and resumed eating she produced her coup de feu. Waving my note from Theodore at the assembled family she shrieked,
‘See how I am betrayed by that low vixen you harbour in this house!’ This was addressed to her brother specifically, and to everyone else generally. We all regarded her in stunned silence and then Darcy, the Hon. Theo and I made a simultaneous lunge for the note.
Georgiana evaded our clutching hands, jumped up and ran around the table screaming hysterically until restrained by her brother and fiancé. Lizzie called for sal volatile and brandy while I wondered who had betrayed me yet again. I knew it could not be Adelaide so I assumed that Georgiana had sent one of her servants to investigate my room while it was empty. The servant had found the note and endeavoured to pass it to her mistress at some point before or during the meal. This was the outside of enough. There must be something malignant in the very air of this place that brings nothing but misfortune to the innocent.
When Georgiana’s sobs and moans had subsided a little I stood up and declared loudly, ‘I will not be traduced in this manner.’ Glaring at my brother-in-law and the Hon. Theo in turn I continued, ‘I have never sought this man’s attentions. They are unwanted and unsolicited. The notion that there is anything untoward between us is pure piffle-poffle and I will not be blamed for it.’ I sat down amid complete silence except for Georgiana’s moans. I waved my hand at the Hon. Theo. ‘Tell them the truth,’ I commanded. ‘If you do not, you are no gentleman.’ All eyes swivelled towards him but he remained the epitome of effrontery, as cool as iced lemonade.
Darcy stared at Theo and spoke in a low, dangerously calm voice.
‘What do you have to say, sir? If you do not have a satisfactory explanation I shall be obliged to call you out. My sister’s reputation is precious to me.’ Theo shrugged and looked quite relaxed.
‘I know nothing of this. The note is obviously a forgery – an unfortunate prank by someone in this house.’ Everyone turned to stare at me at this point and I almost exploded with rage. My reputation had been tarnished but this was of no interest to anyone. Georgiana’s reputation was, naturally, extremely precious. Fiddlesticks! Georgiana was a tawdry slut who ran off with Wickham when she was scarcely out of the schoolroom. Of course, I did the same thing, but at least we were later married. Miss Darcy was damaged goods and now a duel would be fought over her.
I was so furious that I uttered a scream of rage and fled to my room where I remained until the following afternoon when my brother-in-law appeared in my chamber waving
a letter.
‘I have received confirmation from a Mrs Letitia Makepeace of Widcombe House in the city of Bath that she will engage you as her companion forthwith. She is a most respectable widowed lady of good standing in the community. You are fortunate to have this opportunity, madam, and I trust you will benefit from it.’
I tried to engage my voice with some difficulty. ‘But …’ ‘But me no buts, Lydia. You are a viper in the collective bosom of this family and the sooner you leave the better it will be for all.’ With that he turned on his heel, closed the door loudly and I collapsed in a flood of tears.
‘There, there, madam,’ soothed Adelaide. ‘Don’t take on so. I’ll go below stairs and get the whole story.’ She left me alone to face my tragic destiny – an old lady’s companion – in Bath!
Chapter Twenty
Bath, Winter 1816
I am not usually given to utter despair, dear reader, but Mr Darcy’s news sounded like the knell of doom … doom to all my dreams for a golden future – or indeed any future at all. I could hear in my head the surly, sullen, midnight bell described in Mr Lathom’s Gothic novel. This time it was tolling for me, for all my hopes and plans.
Even Adelaide could not raise my spirits. She will accompany me but the prospect of the long journey south filled her with gloom. I knew that she was prepared to part with her pet footman for Paris but Bath was a poor substitute. It was time to plead with my sister.
‘There is nothing I can do, Lydia. My husband’s mind is made up and I cannot but agree with him. This scandalous behaviour cannot continue.’ Lizzie turned away from me and looked out of the window onto the vast acres of Pemberley. We were standing in my room while Adelaide packed my belongings nearby.
As I began to sob noisily Lizzie rushed over to embrace me. ‘Oh, Lydie, don’t take on so. I do not wish you to be unhappy. We simply want to save you from yourself.’ I hiccupped and almost snarled through my tears.
‘Happiness … you talk of happiness while I am to be immured with an old trout in dismal Bath for the rest of my days?’
‘It will not be forever,’ said my sister briskly. ‘Old ladies do not live so long and Mr Darcy and I may be able to find you a suitable husband – if you refrain from outraging propriety for a while.’
‘I suppose you mean some impecunious, terminally boring curate such as you yourself refused to wed, if I recall.’ My sister looked pained but could not deny the accuracy of my taunt. Adelaide was so fascinated by our conversation that she remained frozen on her knees holding one shoe aloft. I warmed to my subject hearing my voice rising into shrill invective. I hoped that my brother-in-law was nearby to hear my tirade.
‘I do not give a fig for respectability!’ I shrieked. ‘I will not be shackled to someone I despise. I will not be poor for the rest of my life. How can you, Lizzie, having achieved so much wealth and status, wish this for me? Ah, I know … you are more deserving than I.’
I stopped for breath and saw my sister’s eyes fill with tears. She made to seize my hand for a moment then rushed from the room. I collapsed onto the bed snuffling and weeping, feeling sick and wicked, while Adelaide quietly rustled tissue paper.
As soon as I could I fled from the room out into the parkland of Pemberley. I rushed down to the lake and stood staring into its depths, my whole body trembling with rage and sorrow. The lake was like black glass, unmoving. I knew that under its surface, life was teeming – fish were rushing hither and thither as fish tended to do, and vegetation of all kinds flourished. On the surface, under the lowering clouds on a dark afternoon the water was still and sinister – not even a gentle susurration stirred at my feet. In this lake of darkness I could bury my own dark thoughts, my fears and my enemies, real and imaginary. It was not surprising, in the circumstances, that the spectral figure of my brother-in-law rose from the black water gnashing his teeth at me in a malignant manner. I hurled a stone into the lake in a pointless fashion, and returned reluctantly to the house.
Adelaide was waiting for me with the laudanum bottle she had acquired from the cook. I have never been in the habit of taking laudanum but, as my maid measured out the drops, I decided that my life had reached such a low point – a positive nadir – that it was justified. I lay on my bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Naturally, my outburst with Lizzie achieved nothing and within the next twenty-four hours, after the briefest of farewells to the assembled family, we were embarked on the coach en route for Bath once again. There was no sign of the Hon. Theo.
My brother-in-law was determined to heap every possible indignity upon me. To this end he instructed his steward to escort us for the entire journey, arranging accommodation at numerous inns, fussing over seats and generally ensuring that I did not attempt to take flight and disgrace the family once more.
In London, where we awaited the coach for Bath, I was carefully observed at every moment in public. However, Watkins the steward reckoned without female ingenuity. In the privacy of my room I had written a note to Selena and Miles giving them details of my whereabouts and instructing them to inform the Count.
When I appeared in the courtyard to await the mail coach, Watkins noticed that Adelaide was absent. I informed him that she had been unwell during the night and would emerge at the last possible moment.
‘She is sickly this morning and I instructed her to wait inside the inn. We do not want to have her spewing over everyone in the coach.’ I smiled warmly at him and he shuddered saying that he would travel on top with the coachman. In fact, my maid was entrusting the letter to a messenger, paying him well to ensure a swift delivery.
The coach swept out of the yard and I bade a fond farewell to the capital, not knowing when I would see it again. I trusted in my friends’ loyalty. Surely they would come to free me from my servitude.
Words cannot describe the agony of coach travel from one end of England to another. It should never be undertaken unless one is in a deceased condition. My bones ached and I dismounted at the Bear Inn feeling at least one hundred years old. Adelaide was almost bent over with cramp and even Watkins looked exhausted. I took pleasure in knowing that he would have to return with all haste to Derbyshire. After we had fortified ourselves with hot drinks he ordered a chair for me and I was conveyed to Widcombe House on the lower slopes of Widcombe Down overlooking the city. Adelaide followed on foot with our luggage in a handcart.
It was an elegant building, not large, but with a pleasant aspect. At the time views of the city did little to comfort me. I was shown into a room decorated in pale grey and primrose yellow where an elderly lady sat on a chaise longue toying with an overweight pug dog. My new employer wore a voluminous purple bombazine gown in the fashion of the last century. Her absurd headdress consisted of many starched white frills perched uneasily on sparse yellow curls. The purple gown contrasted ill with the primrose silk upholstery. It gave me a queasy feeling in my stomach.
I gave a brief curtsey as the footman announced my name. The old lady, Mrs Letitia Makepeace, looked at me carefully through her lorgnette and invited me to sit down.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear. Take off your bonnet and join me in a glass of sherry. Coach travel is the very devil is it not? Were there any handsome men to enliven your journey?’
Rendered speechless by these remarks, I smiled weakly and drank down a large glass of sherry very quickly. I noticed that Mrs Makepeace had already finished her own drink. She immediately poured two more large glasses and we drank them with equal speed. It was ten thirty in the morning. The room became pleasantly hazy at this point but I noticed that the old lady poured sherry into a saucer which the pug drank enthusiastically. Very little conversation ensued. We were both quite sleepy (from the drink on her part and general weariness on mine).
‘I am sure we will get along very well, my dear’ said Mrs Makepeace, slurring her words a little. ‘Tell the servants to show you to your room. No doubt you need to rest.’ At this point she fell asleep while the pug collapsed across her l
ap snoring loudly. I tottered from the room and followed a maid upstairs, feeling the need to hold quite tightly to the balustrade. I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep immediately.
Adelaide came to rouse me for a late luncheon telling me that the situation below stairs was tolerable if not full of fascination. She was obviously suffering from the loss of her footman. I looked around my room with interest. It was not large but it was decorated in excellent taste. The walls and the ceiling had been painted in a delicate celadon green with a design of birds and fluffy white clouds painted in vertical columns. The furniture was upholstered in the same pale shades and the whole effect was delightful. I was still sufficiently tired and muzzle-headed to wish to hide behind the bed curtains for another hour or two, but duty called me downstairs. I descended slowly, regretting the large amount of sherry taken earlier.
Mrs Makepeace greeted me warmly once again. I noticed that she had already poured a generous glass of wine for herself and one for me. I was in danger of passing my entire employment at this house in an alcoholic daze, but perhaps that would be no bad thing. After a surprisingly good meal we returned to the salon where I was invited to look among the books piled on a table.
‘Select one and read something to me, my dear. I am a devotee of the Gothic. The Necromancer of the Black Forest is a particular favourite, or The Midnight Bell.’ My spirits lifted a little. At least my employer and I shared an enthusiasm for hair-raising literature, if nothing else. I read until I was almost hoarse and I realised that Mrs Makepeace had once again fallen asleep.
As the days passed I read my way through the entire library and drank far more than was good for me. No message came from Selena and Miles and I feared that they had removed from Portman Square and were now lost to me. If I was to escape from this place it would be by my own efforts. At that moment I was at a loss as to how to proceed.
Mrs Makepeace confided in me quite freely. She told me that she found the society of Bath intolerably dull. Her late husband had left her well provided for but isolated.
