The Beast at the Door

by Althea Blue

  Finally there were no more courses served and Patience’s father rose to his feet. He waited for the quiet conversation to die down and cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make. It is with greatest pride that I announce the engagement of my youngest daughter to Gabriel Longbranch. Gabriel, Patience, may your marriage be as fulfilling as ours has been.” He nodded to his smiling wife at Patience's side. “I wish you long life and prosperity.” He raised his wine glass and those seated at the table mimicked the movement. “The wedding will take place in spring, and we hope you all will join us,” he finished, sitting back down and drinking the remainder of his wine.

  Patience noted that there was no wish for happiness in the toast, and found it surprisingly appropriate. At least father isn’t deluding himself that I might enjoy this union. She rose with the other women and followed them into the parlour, while the men went to smoke cigars and drink brandy in the games room. Glory grabbed her arm as she entered and pulled her into a corner. She hadn’t previously noticed that her sister was there.

  “Oh Patience, I am so happy for you. I cannot believe that you will have such an attractive husband. I must admit I am a bit jealous,” Glory spoke excitedly. “When I read mother’s letter last week I knew I had to be here for the announcement.”

  “Last week?” Patience asked weakly. “Mother wrote you last week about the engagement?”

  “Oh yes.” Glory answered. “It must have been Monday or Tuesday. I am so pleased. Do let me help you choose items for your trousseau. I know all the latest styles from Paris, and I am sure Father will allow you to splurge on clothes, just this once.”

  As if Patience had ever before asked for extravagant clothing. Her usual quarrel with her mother was over wanting simpler and less elaborate clothes, not more. She had a sudden image of dressmakers, pins and dozens of parcels arriving at the door, all for her. The thought made her almost as ill as when she imagined leaving the wedding as Gabriel's bride. Her sister had known about the wedding plans more than a week before Patience had. She wondered who else had known. Had she been the absolute last to be told about her own future. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress both fury and despair, and let her sister natter on. I will not do it, she told herself. There has to be a way out of it. There must be something I can do. Something I can say to make Gabriel not want me. That might be the only way to call it off now. Father will never relent but if Gabriel changes his mind, then perhaps… She knew Gabriel though, and the man never let something he considered his possession get away from him. He was the same as a child. No one could play with his toys unless he played too, and if he was losing a game he would end the game and stalk off. If it was his, he should always use it best. And she suspected the same principle applied to women.

  “I must get out of here.” She didn’t realize that she’d said the last aloud until Glory looked at her oddly. “I am… not feeling very well,” Patience covered. “I would like to sit on the porch for a few minutes.”

  “Of course,” Glory agreed. “The excitement must be too much for you. Let us go sit in the fresh air for a time.” She escorted Patience to the front door which Grayson opened for them. The early autumn air was crisp and just a touch cool but it felt good to Patience, who hadn’t realized how overheated she was. She sank down into a chair, unmindful of her posture. Glory took the chair next to hers, perched perfectly as usual. If Patience had let Jones tie her corset as tightly as fashion demanded, she wouldn’t be able to slouch either, but she had long since come to an agreement with the servants about her intention to breathe, and since she caused them far less work than her sisters did, they were willing to let the protocol slide and not inform her mother.

  She stared into the darkness, past the lamps that lit the porch and the driveway. Carriages lined it, with footmen and drivers gathered off to one side, ready to leave whenever their masters wished. Normally Patience would approach them to make sure they had been fed properly, but for this one night she didn’t actually care. Though she turned the problem over and over again, her mind was blank. She could think of nothing she could do or say that would make Gabriel break the engagement. She heard the kitchen door open around the side of the house and some of the maids come out, chattering.

  “And she just left? With no notice or anything?” an unfamiliar voice queried.

  “When the cook went to wake her in the morning she was just gone,” Jones replied. “No one knows where.”

  “How dreadful. She’ll never get another position.” The voices faded before Patience could hear anything more, but that was enough. Why hadn’t it occurred to her before that she could just leave before the wedding? She knew what time the doors were locked and the servants went to bed. If she gave them time to fall asleep she could be hours away before daylight. But where will I go? It couldn’t be anywhere they would look for her, her sisters’ homes or her aunt and uncle’s place in London. She had no close friends who would agree to conceal her and her parents would find her anyway if she stayed in Canterbury. For a moment she debated crossing the Channel and seeing Paris alone, but she discarded that idea as impractical. She didn’t have the money it would take to travel properly, nor did she know what papers she would need. It would have to be somewhere in England, but somewhere far away where she wasn’t known. She knew there were dozens of small towns and cities isolated from her circle, probably hundreds. Finally she decided it didn’t matter exactly where she went, the going was enough. She would leave that night.

  The front door opened and people started emerging. “We must join Mother to say goodbye,” Glory stood and offered a hand to Patience. “Do you feel better now?”

  Patience nodded, “Yes, thank you.” She didn’t say anything else as she entered the house. Her mother noticed immediately and started to frown but her expression eased when she saw that Patience had been with Glory. She considered Glory a perfect influence who would never do anything inappropriate, no matter how her sister cajoled her. If they had been together than Patience would have been safely guided in a positive direction. She smiled at her youngest, who made a weak attempt to smile back. They said goodbye to all the guests who alighted their carriages and drove away into the night.

  Gabriel stayed behind for a moment. “I wanted to say goodbye to you,” he told Patience as he tried to lead her into the now-empty parlour.

  “My mother prefers that I stay to see all of the guests on their way,” Patience replied, the first words she had said to Gabriel since greeting him at the beginning of the evening.

  “She won’t mind.” His grip on her arm grew tighter. “Now that our engagement has been announced we are allowed to be alone together.” He said this in a superior tone, as if a professor lecturing his pupil.

  Patience knew that Gabriel now felt he had a right to touch her, and her skin crawled with revulsion. “I am very tired, Gabriel. Please let me go. We will talk another time,” she said smoothly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear the lie in her voice. She had no intention of speaking to him ever again, but she mustn’t give herself away now.

  He let go as Jones entered the parlour. “I'm sorry sir. I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She bobbed a curtsy in Gabriel’s direction and nodded at Patience.

  Seeing the moment as broken, Gabriel exited the room and Patience mouthed a “thank you” in Jones’ direction before following him to the front entrance. “Goodnight, Gabriel,” she said, as she stepped beside her mother, who was saying goodnight to Mr. Longbranch. Gabriel nodded back to her as he followed his father to their carriage, the last one waiting to leave. Grayson closed the door behind them and Patience’s father nodded in satisfaction as he lost sight of the pair.

  “Excellent dinner, dear,” he commented to Patience’s mother, as if she had had anything to do with the preparation for the party. Patience had never heard him thank the servants for their work, but he always thanked his wife. It was all about protocol to him. He would never do or say anything that could be viewed as gratitude outside h
is class and it made Patience wonder if her mother had ever thought of fleeing her own wedding. Unlikely, she decided. Her mother was born for this role.

  She turned to her mother to excuse herself. “I am feeling quite tired. May I go upstairs now?” she asked.

  “Go ahead. You did well this evening. Everyone said what a beautiful woman you have grown into. All our friends are looking forward to the wedding.”

  Patience wondered if her mother had even noticed how little she ate, or that she hadn’t said a word at the dinner table. If she had, she probably would have considered it perfectly ladylike. Everyone else may be looking forward to the wedding, but they would be disappointed one and all. For the first time since she’d been called into the parlour that afternoon, Patience felt like she could breathe. She thanked her mother and quickly ascended the stairs, waiting impatiently for Jones to come and undress her so she could start making preparations.

  Chapter Three

  Lying in bed, Patience tried to think of all the things she would need when she left the house. She had never been anywhere by herself and she hadn't the faintest idea how to start packing.

  Rolling off her bed she lit a candle and went to her wardrobe, opening the doors and staring in dismay at the array of dresses. Most of them would be impossible for her to put on by herself, and were completely unsuitable for anything more strenuous than sitting at the opera or a dinner party. She found one light grey dress with buttons up the front and pulled it from its hanger, tossing it carelessly onto the bed.

  For a moment she wondered if she could sneak into Mason’s room and find something of his to wear, but she didn’t know how to act like a boy and would give herself away in moments. None of the dresses were very warm, the winter clothes had not yet been brought out as autumn was just starting to announce its chill. She added a dark blue shawl and several petticoats and bloomers to the pile. She found her stoutest pair of boots, though they were still more delicate than she would prefer, and then looked around the room for what else might be needed.

  Her eyes caught on her jewelry casket. She rummaged through it until she found her favorite pearls, which had once belonged to a grandmother Patience could barely remember. What little money she had was in her reticule and she added that to the pile. She wondered which hat would be appropriate for running away, and finally chose a simple straw boater. Pulling stockings from her drawer she quickly drew off the long nightdress and replaced it with the underclothes. Automatically her hand reached out for her corset, but she dropped it again immediately. Without Jones there was no way she could tighten it, and since this was her one chance at freedom, she decided that wearing a corset would be an unnecessary constraint. Without the binding garment the dress was slightly too tight, but not by much, since her refusal to wear properly tightened corsets even when meeting the dressmakers meant it was sized fairly accurately. She felt grateful for that, enough to make up for years of listening to their displeasure.

  She searched her room for a bag to carry her extra things in and came up empty. There were trunks and suitcases in the closet under the stairs but she wouldn’t be able to carry one, even if she could retrieve it without being heard. Then she remembered playing at traveling with her sisters when they were children. There was an old carpetbag in the nursery cupboard that they used to fill with their precious things and pretend to go on a journey. The nursery was right next door. The servants had been in bed for nearly an hour so it should be safe. She opened her door a crack, listening for any out-of-place sound. She heard nothing, though she made herself wait a full minute before she crept into the nursery with her candle and found the bag, just where she remembered it residing, on the shelf in the cupboard. Quickly returning to her room she stuffed her things in the bag, picked up her shoes and blew out the candle.

  Hugging the wall, she tiptoed to the stairs, avoiding the one step she knew creaked whenever the smallest weight was placed on it, and reached the bottom without a sound. There was no light shining in the front hall, but she had grown up in the house and knew it well from numerous games of hide and seek and blind man’s bluff when she was small. She had to put her bag down to reach the latch near the top of the front door, pulling it gently open without a squeak. She thanked god for servants who kept every hinge oiled, as she exited the house and closed it softly behind her.

  Patience knew that the first servant awake was usually the cook, who might never enter the front hall to notice that the door was unlatched. She might have as many as six or seven hours before her departure was observed. She quickly laced her boots on her feet, grabbed her bag and walked down the drive. Once there she had the first decision to make. If she turned left, the street would lead into Canterbury proper, where there might be people still around. No one who was likely to know her, but men leaving the taverns and other lowlifes might bother her. If she turned right, it would be many miles before she reached another village. She couldn’t remember exactly what lay that way, but that’s the road she took. Better to face the real unknown as soon as possible.

  The night was dark and cooler than she had expected. She hugged the shawl to her and swapped the hand that held the carpet bag. Very quickly, Patience’s feet started to hurt but she ignored them and strode as quickly as possible, lighted by only a crescent moon. A few times she tripped over something unexpected in the road, but she caught herself each time. Her stomach reminded her that she had barely eaten since noon and she regretted not stopping in the kitchen to fill up her bag with food. That would have been risky though. The cook would surely have heard her, as she slept in a small room off the pantry and Patience had heard one of the servants say was a restless sleeper.

  At some point she saw what she thought might be apple trees just off the road. She wandered over to them and felt for low branches. Sure enough, there were small apples hanging from the branch. She twisted one off and bit into it. It was sour and not quite ripe, but she didn’t care. She finished the apple and took another. Then she took as many as she could reach and put them in her bag. They weren't numerous, most would be on higher branches and she didn’t dare risk climbing the tree in the dark. She hoped she could find more food if she continued walking and returned to the road.

  Patience could no longer feel her feet. She wondered if that was going to be a problem, but at least they weren’t hurting anymore. She forced herself to keep going, though her eyes burned and her head ached from lack of sleep. She knew if she stopped this close to home she would be found easily and would never be given a second chance to flee. Her father was more than capable of locking her in her room until the wedding. With that thought she quickened her pace and started to think about where she might hide. Whenever she passed a crossroad, she always turned down it, making sure she was still heading in the same general direction, away from Canterbury.

  She knew how to find the North Star and keep following it, another lesson from her brother, who was fascinated by the movement of the stars. He told her that this star would always point the way if she was lost, and told her stories about American slaves who escaped to Canada using the same star, before the War Between the States set them free. Her favorite story had been about Harriet Tubman, a woman who managed not only to escape the south, but also returned to help other slaves escape. Patience thought her life was a bit like a slave’s. Not that she ever had to work, but in that she had no choices to make for herself. Slaves were married against their will, just like Patience would be if she didn’t escape. She began to pretend to be Harriet and think about what she would do to stay free. Harriet had stolen food, hidden during the day and run at night, just like Patience was doing.

  After what felt like several days' worth of walking, the eastern sky started to lighten. Patience realized she could see details she’d been missing before. Any time now one of the servants would notice the front door was unbolted and would wake her father to tell him. Probably no more than a few minutes after that they would discover she was gone. It would take them a while to come
after her, but she should be well hidden within the hour. With that in mind, she left the main road, following a small path into a farmer’s field. She needed somewhere that no one would discover her, but where she’d be protected from the sun and from any animals that might be nosing around. She dismissed the first barn she came to, as it looked well-used and people would be in and out. A second barn housed horses, and cows who were already lowing with their udders full of milk.

  She quickened her speed, ignoring the sharper pains that seemed to increase with each step. She came to a small structure that she didn’t recognize at first. It was too small for a barn or a granary or even a smokehouse. Then she realized there were no windows and only one sturdy door. The structure was all stone, no wood, and she decided it must be an ice house. Her sister had an ice house and this late in the season there was hardly ever ice left. Patience crept to the door and looked around quickly, to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, she quickly lifted the latch and checked the back of the door to make sure there was also a latch there. It would do her no good to lock herself in; no one would ever hear a call for help.

  Before she closed the door behind her she looked around the room. As she had suspected, there was only a tiny pile of ice under a piece of burlap in the corner nearest the door. The rest of the room had straw covering the floor and several large pieces of burlap in a pile in the furthest corner. With the door closed there was only the tiniest bit of light visible from underneath, where it didn’t quite meet the frame. At least Patience would be able to tell when night fell. She went to the pile of burlap, rolled up one piece to make a pillow and used another piece as a blanket. The rest of it made quite a nice nest for her to curl up in. As long as no one needed any ice that day she would be fine.

  Though exhausted, Patience couldn’t seem to fall asleep. She had never slept on anything less comfortable than a featherbed, and though the pile of sacking was an improvement over hard ground, it was nowhere near soft. Every sharp pebble or hump on the dirt floor jabbed into her back, no matter how she tried to smooth it out. It was chilly in the ice house, and her shawl wasn’t nearly the protection that an eiderdown quilt would have offered. Though she could hear no birds from inside the thick-walled structure, there were unexplained sounds coming from outside, made eerie and echoing by the room she inhabited. She dozed on and off, but awoke frequently thinking she heard someone entering the hut. Her stomach was also hurting, and she wasn’t sure if it was from lack of food, or whether eating apples before they were ripe was a bad idea. All in all, by the time dusk fell she was more tired than she’d been before she stopped for the day.