Bad Miss Bennet

by Jean Burnett

  At this point my companion decided to tell me the truth. It appeared that we were not bound for Vienna at all.

  ‘You lied to the Princess of Wales,’ I reminded him.

  He shrugged. ‘It could not be helped. I have an important mission here in Italy that concerns you directly.’ My stomach churned with rage and apprehension. Would there ever be an end to these assignments? I returned to the fray.

  ‘Do my wishes mean nothing to you, sir? I need to return to my friends in Paris.’

  The Count would not hear of this. His conscience appeared to be making him uncomfortable. With a sudden change of mood he smiled insincerely. ‘I wish to be of real service to you, my dear. I can arrange a situation for you that will advance your standing considerably.’

  A situation … what could he mean, surely not a position as companion to a broken down Italian dowager instead of a Bathonian? No, that would not advance my standing in any way. Did he intend to pass me on to a fellow aristocrat? Such things were not unknown. Filled with curiosity and foreboding I listened reluctantly as he continued, my mind set on writing to Miles and Selena.

  I would return to Paris with or without the Count’s permission.

  I became aware that he had managed to open a bottle of champagne that he was endeavouring to spill into two glasses as the coach lurched along.

  ‘I owe you an apology, dear Lydia. I am distraught that our association has become, shall we say, detached. I invited you to join me and I must in some way repay you.’ His distress did not seem at all apparent to me.

  ‘What can you mean? I do not require you to offer me money,’ I said stiffly, although I am never averse to such suggestions. I accepted the glass of champagne.

  ‘I am offering you a new life, my dear – in royal circles.’ My eyes widened.

  ‘Royal circles?’ I echoed, remembering my previous forays in such places.

  ‘The Emperor’s daughter, Archduchess Leopoldina, is to be married to the heir to the Portuguese throne, Dom Pedro. She has already left Vienna and is now waiting in Genoa with her entourage, ready to embark on a Portuguese ship. She requires an English speaking lady-in-waiting. I have recommended you. You will be presented to her in a few days. I am sure she will find you satisfactory.’

  I felt quite dizzy at this news and quaffed another glass of champagne. ‘You are suggesting, then, that I leave for Portugal?’

  The Count fidgeted a little and looked embarrassed. ‘Wait until you have met the Archduchess and then decide. It would be a golden opportunity for you to move in the highest circles and you will certainly escape the tedium of my company.’ He gave a strained smile and gazed out of the window.

  I was utterly discombobulated by this, as Adelaide would say. My mind was disarrayed – did I want to enter royal circles officially? My previous encounters with both the Prince Regent and his wife had been eccentric and unofficial to say the least. Perhaps the Count was right and this could be a golden opportunity for me. How I would enjoy informing my relatives of my new status. On the other hand, the Count may have some nefarious purpose in mind. One cannot trust anyone, least of all men.

  I mused on this as we travelled on to Genoa where I was deposited in an apartment in another crumbling palazzo. The Count would call for me when I was summoned to see the Archduchess. Hastily, I considered my wardrobe and my toilette. In order to look my best I instructed Adelaide to wash and anoint my hair. First of all she applied the whisked up whites of six eggs and I sat patiently until the concoction had dried. Then she removed the egg white and washed my locks in rum and rosewater so that my chestnut curls appeared glossy and sweet smelling.

  Then there was the question of what I should wear. What would be suitable in the circumstances? I decided on pale grey silk edged with grey velvet and a black straw bonnet. I would dearly have loved to take the chinchilla muff but it did not seem appropriate. I wore Getheridge’s little gold watch for luck.

  As we drove to the palace I was so nervous I clasped my gloved hands tightly to prevent them from shaking. Clutching my best parasol with the ivory handle I followed the Count to the princess’s apartments. As I curtsied to her the Count made a long introduction in German. If only I could understand what was being said.

  Dona Leopoldina, as she will be known, was fair, composed, intelligent and gracious. She addressed me in perfect English with great warmth, inviting me to sit. We talked about England, my home county and my family. She commiserated with me over my husband’s death at Waterloo.

  ‘How proud you must be.’

  ‘Indeed ma’am!’ I replied with feeling.

  ‘I think we will deal very well together, Mrs Wickham, do you not agree? Will you accompany me? It will be for two years, after that you may reconsider your position.’ I found that I was grinning foolishly and agreeing enthusiastically. What larks!

  ‘I have always wanted to see Portugal,’ I remarked gaily. The princess looked puzzled and turned to the Count. ‘Does she not know?’ The Count flushed and began to fidget.

  ‘I may not have been completely explicit in the matter, Your Highness.’ Seeing my startled expression Dona Leopoldina explained. ‘We will not be going to Portugal. The Portuguese court removed to Brazil in its entirety ten years ago. It has remained there ever since.’ She smiled at me. ‘It will be a great adventure for us all.’

  I can scarcely recall how I left the royal presence: a wave of giddiness swept over me as I toppled into a curtsey. The Count held me in an iron grip and half carried me out of the chamber. I recovered my senses in the carriage. ‘You traitor,’ I snarled, ‘you have sold me into service on the far side of the world!’

  He started to splutter excuses but everything was becoming clear to me. I was the victim of a conspiracy between Captain Marshfield and the Count and who knew what else? I was an embarrassment, I knew too much – about Von Mecks, the emeralds, the Prince Regent and his wife, the Count, the price of fish …

  I gasped for air and began to bawl uncontrollably, arriving at the apartment red faced and raw of throat. Adelaide attended to me as the Count drove away with my curses ringing in his ears. She waved burnt feathers under my nose and administered eau de cologne to my forehead.

  ‘I am being sent to Brazil!’ I cried. ‘Stay with me, Adelaide, I have no-one else.’

  ‘Where’s Brazil?’ she asked, ‘is it near Australia?’ I nodded wildly.

  ‘How long will we be at sea?’

  ‘About three months.’ We both collapsed onto a sofa and sobbed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was ever so, dear reader. Whenever my future appeared rosier than usual a black cloud would appear to cast its shadow over my life. In this instance the black cloud was larger than I could ever have imagined. I, poor little Lydia Marianne Bennet Wickham, who had never ventured farther than the shores of the Mediterranean, was to be cast adrift on the other side of the world. It was by no means certain that I would survive the journey to Brazil, let alone return in two years.

  Of course, this sad state of affairs was due to the perfidious nature of the man … men with whom I had become involved. It did not seem possible that a good man would ever cross my path. I should have remembered the story of Vancenza, Or the Dangers of Credulity, which I read some time ago. The plight of a royal mistress in that tale should have taught me something. Perhaps I should have settled for a boring curate after all, but I had no doubt that even that arrangement would have ended in disaster.

  It was a wet, cold Monday morning in my heart. Even after we collected ourselves and Adelaide urged me to look on the bright side I could not lift the weight from my spirits. Details of the journey were sent to me from the palace. I needed to bring adequate clothing and other provisions for a three month journey at least, in which fresh water would be scarce and very rough weather could be expected. The ever practical Adelaide urged me to ‘make a run for it’ to Paris but I could not in all conscience do such a thing, having given my word to a royal princess. In addition
I would run straight into Captain Marshfield who would find me even if I had ventured into darkest Africa.

  Of course, he knew my whereabouts exactly and I was not unduly surprised to find a messenger from the British Embassy at my door a few days later. I was more surprised when I read the letter which assured me that the fee due to me for my efforts in Italy would be held in trust for me until I returned to Europe. I tore the letter up in a fury. So they had decided to pay what was owed to me but in such a manner that I might never be able to claim it. Such perfidy. After all I had done for the Regent (in various ways). This was how patriotism was repaid by the British government.

  It was more than likely that I would never return from Brazil. Apart from the immense journey there were surely all manner of dangers awaiting me in that country. The wildlife was probably beyond imagination. I recalled the strange Portuguese lord and his monkey. I was in such a fury that I could have craunched a marmoset myself at that moment. Instead, I contented myself with tearing up the Count’s love letter and flinging the pieces into the gutter.

  Reluctantly, we began to make preparations. I changed my small fortune from Mrs Makepiece into gold pieces for transportation in a stout chest with iron locks. I wondered if it would vanish overboard in a storm taking my security with it – or whether it would be stolen by pirates and savages.

  Dona Leopoldina summoned me for another discussion about Brazil. She had read a great deal about the country and described its great beauty, its vast forests and exotic flora and fauna. The country swarmed with primitive peoples and millions of African slaves. Diamonds were to be found as easily as eggs in an English farmyard. This news comforted me a little.

  ‘The climate is fierce and may be difficult to contend with, but we will become accustomed to it,’ she assured me. So far I have heard little that encourages me, except for the diamonds.

  Adelaide compiled a huge laundry list. I required dozens of chemises, petticoats, stockings and other items of intimate wear, as well as yards and yards of muslin and other flimsy materials. There will apparently be little opportunity for washing clothes on the voyage, or for washing ourselves, I fear. I dared not contemplate how our basic needs would be met on board ship. In addition, Adelaide had it on good authority that Portuguese women are not acquainted with the use of tooth brushes. Their company at close quarters will be most unpleasant.

  As I watched Adelaide pack supplies of Gardner’s Alternative Pills against worms of all sorts, and a liberal supply of Floris’s orange blossom toilet water to disguise bodily odours, my heart sank further into my boots. When would I ever wear my chinchilla muff again? It had been put into storage with many of my heavier items of clothing. My journal entries were once again lapsing into melancholia.

  I was told that ginger was a sovereign remedy against sea sickness. My maid procured as much as she was able but it was barely enough to see us out of European waters. The entire ginger supply in the city had been commandeered by the Imperial party. During those last few days my only pleasure was in writing to Pemberley and Longbourn with news of my elevation into royal circles. I hoped that it would cause my brother-in-law to choke on his pheasant at the very least.

  On the day before we left the city I was required to attend a service at the cathedral to bring blessings on the affianced couple. Dona Leopoldina has, naturally, never seen her future husband. Perhaps that was wisest for all concerned. Propinquity guarantees nothing. When the carriages rolled out of the palace courtyard I caught sight of the Count waving adieu with a sheepish smile on his face.

  His parting gift to me was a handsome mahogany medicine chest with silver topped bottles. In the circumstances his choice showed the greatest effrontery. He obviously believed that I would not survive the journey or, at the very least, I would need all the concoctions therein as a matter of necessity: so much for erstwhile lovers.

  I noted that the chest had been obtained from Savory and Moore of Bond Street, London. Adelaide and I wept when we saw the label. Oh, dear departed home! I turned away and contemplated my new duties. I was to speak only in English at all times to Dona Leopoldina. As I did not speak German I could not communicate with the other ladies in waiting. All of them were aristocrats who treated me as someone beneath their notice.

  We had been obliged to wait some time in Genoa for the arrival of the Portuguese escort ships. They had been delayed by extremely bad weather at sea and rumours of an uprising in Brazil which did nothing to raise my spirits. My royal employer, however, was relentlessly optimistic, urging us all to study our Portuguese grammar books. She showed me a miniature of her bridegroom Dom Pedro. He was only eighteen and she was twenty. His appearance was certainly not handsome but she declared it ‘interesting’. The miniature was surrounded by diamonds the size of large buttons.

  When we finally boarded Dom Joao VI, a huge ship weighed down with many passengers and animals kept below decks, I feared it might sink in the first storm. Adelaide and I watched as the vessel pulled slowly away from Italy, heading first for Lisbon and then the New World. I was wearing a suitably funereal black damask gown with long tight sleeves of white lace with a white frill at the neck.

  I had obtained a supply of new notebooks in which to record my Brazilian adventures and to while away the long voyage. I imagined this flimsy and pathetic record bobbing on the high seas after our disastrous shipwreck. Perhaps it would one day reach England where I would be remembered as a heroine by future generations. After all, I had rendered a service to my country, even if it did not compare with Wellington’s. He, however, was not being banished to the other side of the world.

  ‘Did you remember to pack the laudanum?’ I asked Adelaide.

  My maid had caught a glimpse of the luxurious royal suite. ‘Gold plate and a grand piano … lots of red and gold silk.’

  ‘And what of our accommodation?’ I asked.

  ‘Small,’ she replied.

  I feel a sense of impending doom.

  I gazed at the horizon wondering if I would ever see England again – or even Europe. Had I done something so terrible, so offensive to the Count that he needed to banish me to the ends of the earth – or did he genuinely believe that he was advancing my position? With such friends I had no need of enemies. If only I had not found the body of Von Mecks. All my misfortunes sprang from that event.

  Adelaide rallied me as she always did. ‘It will be another great adventure, madam.’ I essayed a smile and thought of those large diamonds as the breeze ruffled my hair. It might be true, after all, but at that moment I was not greatly diverted.

  After a while I sent Adelaide below to our cabin. Her cheeks were beginning to acquire a green tinge. I continued to stand at the ship’s rail with the wind ruffling my skirts, staring out at the ocean and thinking melancholy thoughts. A crew member touched my shoulder and urged me to retire to my cabin.

  ‘You will be more comfortable there, madam.’ I turned to face him – and found myself staring at Jerry Sartain! He was looking aggressively nautical.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I gasped. He gave me the familiar grin.

  ‘I am bound for Brazil, as a crew member, madam. I am sure our paths will cross frequently!’

  My knees began to buckle just as the ship listed to one side and Jerry caught me in a firm grip. There was too much drama in my life and the shocks were affecting my normally placid disposition, as my readers will appreciate.

  I gaped at him. ‘You cannot possibly be here.’ I may have repeated myself several times. Jerry looked disappointed.

  ‘I had hoped for a warmer reception from you, my love. You have so often told me of your affection for me.’

  Various scenes passed before my mind’s eye in rapid succession. My hopefully rosy, royal future grew decidedly overcast. If my association with a humble crew member/ outlaw became known … well, it must be avoided. But how, in the close confines of the ship? Conscious of possible prying eyes, I threw off Jerry’s restraining arm.

  ‘It is imp
erative that you do not recognise or speak to me in public,’ I whispered, urgently. I am a lady-in-waiting to Princess Leopoldina. All will be lost if you persist.’

  Jerry picked up a coiled rope lying conveniently nearby and resumed his nautical persona.

  ‘You have done well for yourself, my love. I can see that my presence is unwelcome to you. So much for the constancy of the heart.’ He gave me a speaking look and turned away.

  This man could play upon my heartstrings like a consummate harpist.

  ‘I did not mean to be harsh,’ I pleaded. ‘My feelings for you are unchanged, but it will not advance either of us if we are discovered.’ Another thought occurred to me. ‘How were you able to join this ship’s crew? You have no nautical skills – have you?’ Jerry’s face darkened. He returned the coiled rope to the deck and kicked it.

  ‘I am not here by choice, I assure you. Those rogues on the Yankee ship played me false.’

  I raised my eyebrows as he hurriedly described his adventures. Unable to restrain his criminal urges, Jerry had inveigled the crew of the Pride of Boston into card games, and was discovered cheating. The enraged crew set him ashore at the last port before they crossed the Atlantic. ‘I was stranded in the Azores and forced to sign on to any ship that was passing. I had to offer a sea captain those splendid Hessian boots of yours in order to be taken to Lisbon. There I was offered a place on this vessel. At least it is heading for the New World, even if further south than I anticipated.’

  ‘What will you do in Brazil?’ He grinned.

  ‘Jump ship! Perhaps you can find me a position in the royal household? Of course, I plan to reach New York eventually.’ My heart sank as I explained that I was bound to my post for two years. Jerry did not seem at all downcast. ‘What adventures we may have, my love.’ He picked up the rope again and walked off with a jaunty step. It was just as well that he did not know of the diamond situation in Brazil.