by J P Christy
“There is one more thing.” Mrs. Peake took from her bosom a folded handkerchief and pressed it into Anne’s hands.
Unwrapping it, Anne gasped. “Nora’s locket! But how was the express delivery paid?”
“It wasn’t expensive.”
“When next we meet, I will be mistress here; I will always be grateful for what you have done for me!”
Fitzwilliam placed his hands on Anne’s shoulders. “Come along. We have tarried long enough.” After handing Anne into the coach, he gave Mrs. Peake his card. “If things go badly for the staff after Lady Catherine returns, send this to Lady Fitzwilliam. Once Anne is safe, I will help you.” He started to enter the vehicle but paused. “Except Spicer. No help for that rogue!”
The cousins traveled from De Bourgh House to Darcy House, where they switched from the hackney to a Darcy coach and acquired Ives as their driver. Then, at Anne’s tearful insistence, they made a final stop. The direction Mrs. Peake had given Anne was vague but good enough, and soon they stopped in front of a shabby dwelling in St. Giles. There, Michaels was sitting on an upended wooden bucket in the small, bare-earth yard. He was so absorbed in his work, he did not look up at the sound of the coach.
“Hello, sir!” Anne leaned out the window. “I need a groom, someone enterprising who can rise to the rank of butler!” Fitzwilliam, who had never heard her speak so loudly, stared in surprise.
Michaels, who had been repairing a bridle, jumped to his feet; for a moment, he and Anne just looked at each other smiling. “Are you free from your cage of gold, Lady Bird?” he asked at last.
Before Fitzwilliam could assist her, Anne was out of the carriage. “I am, sir, and I have heard you are at liberty as well.”
Michaels looked over his shoulder at the dwelling, where a tall, slim black woman stood ramrod straight in the open doorway; her expression was equal parts curiosity and wariness. He called, “Mama, this is the daughter of the lady I worked for.”
“Until you were sacked with no character,” she said coolly. Addressing Anne, she asked, “Do your mother want my son back?”
“No, madam. But I wish to hire him.”
“When do I start?” Michaels asked.
“Now.” Anne pressed her coin purse into his hands, aware that his earnings supported his family. “I do not know when we will return to London, so I am paying you in advance.”
Michaels looked in the purse and laughed delightedly. He ran to his mother and handed her the purse and the bridle. “Here, hire old Griff to finish this for the livery stable; the rest is for you.”
She took out a half-crown and gave it to her son. After she emptied the rest of the money into her apron pocket, she handed him the coin purse. “This belongs to your new mistress.” Looking past her son, she curtsied to Anne. “We thank you, my lady.”
Michaels kissed his mother’s cheek before hurrying to Anne’s side. As he assisted her into the carriage, he noticed Fitzwilliam. “Good day, sir,” he said cautiously.
“Good day to you,” Fitzwilliam replied in his usual friendly manner. “I am Miss De Bourgh’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Are you ready to leave with us?”
“Yes, sir.” As Michaels moved to join the coachman, a small girl ran out of the house with a bundle, which she handed to him.
“Your Sunday clothes and your good boots, brother, for when you go to church to thank the Lord for your new position.”
Michaels kissed his sister and waved to his mother before settling himself beside Ives. Then the Darcy carriage rolled away.
≈≈≈
Shortly before noon on the terrace at Fitzwilliam House, the colonel’s parents sat side by side drinking coffee. Lord Fitzwilliam said, “I expected Catherine would be up by now. Though if she were awake, I’ve no doubt we would hear her.”
“She seemed quite unhappy at dinner,” his wife said. “A good night’s sleep will do your sister a world of good. Still, I wonder how much laudanum Christopher put in her port.”
“Christopher put laudanum in Catherine’s drink?” Lord Fitzwilliam bellowed.
“He knew you would not approve of giving her nightshade.”
“What? Nightshade? The poison? Oh, you’re joking. Very amusing, Amanda!” he growled. “Where is your son now?”
“Our son and Anne disappeared into the morning mist.”
“How poetic. Are those two still in town?”
“Doubtful, my dear. Do you recall my dower property in Scotland? I wish to sell it.”
“Aren’t we talking about Christopher and Anne?”
“We shall return to them shortly. So, my dower property.”
“In Scotland ….” He struggled to remember but quickly gave up. “Did we ever visit it?”
“Yes, dear. The Hebrides. Nearly about twenty years ago.”
“What’s the story of the place? Some stirring family history?”
“Not at all. I own that distant pile because a drunken ancestor won it in a game with some Scots who were as eager to be rid of it as they were to make a wager,” Lady Fitzwilliam said.
“Well, if you’re going to be sentimental about it,” he teased.
“Merely because something has been in the family for years, it is not necessarily worth keeping. I prefer to sell it and use the proceeds to buy something in Nottinghamshire or London.”
“Something for Christopher.”
“Yes, it is time for him to leave the army. He feels it, too.”
“I shall have my man of business make inquiries.”
≈≈≈
Lady Catherine emerged somewhat unsteadily from the guest room where she had spent the night. One of the maids had helped her to dress, but disappeared almost immediately afterward; thus, her ladyship made her way downstairs alone. Finding the dining room empty, she rang the small silver bell on the sideboard. When a maid (one of the younger ones) appeared, Lady Catherine asked imperiously, “Where are Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam?”
“On the terrace, my lady.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost one o’clock.”
“I require tea, and I shall have it on the terrace.”
“Yes, your ladyship.” The maid turned to go.
“Wait. I am not feeling myself. Show me to the terrace and then bring my tea. No, first show me to the terrace, then tell Samuels I will want my carriage shortly, and then bring me tea.”
“Yes, your ladyship.”
“Tea and biscuits. A little sweet but not too sweet.”
“Yes, your ladyship.” The maid wondered whether it was the tea or the biscuits that must not be too sweet, but she was afraid to ask.
After being guided to the double-doors that opened to the terrace, Lady Catherine paused, reluctant to step into the bright day. “What are you doing out there, Wesley?” she called peevishly.
Lady Fitzwilliam gave her husband a look that said, Brace yourself. With a shrug at his wife, he replied to his sister, “We are enjoying a lovely summer’s afternoon, Catherine.”
Lady Catherine frowned. “Is Anne still abed?”
“No,” Lord Fitzwilliam said. He gave his wife a pleading look for her to join the conversation, but she ignored him.
“Where is she? We are going to Lady Vicker’s ball tonight. We must return home,” Lady Catherine said.
“Anne is not here.” Lord Fitzwilliam nudged his wife’s foot with his; she ignored him.
“Did she leave without me? Ungrateful child!”
With a sigh, Lady Fitzwilliam said, “We do not know where Anne is. She was gone before we awoke this morning.”
“What?” Lady Catherine shrieked. “Then why are you just sitting there? I suppose you have sent Christopher after her.”
“Christopher was also gone,” his lordship said.
As Lady Catherine considered this, her pasty complexion flushed red. “They have run off together? How dare you, Wesley! I will not countenance the marriage of my only child to a second son in the army. I demand that you return
Anne at once!”
Does Catherine truly believe mousy little Anne is in any way a superior match to my son? Ridiculous! Addressing her husband, Lady Fitzwilliam asked, “My dear, did Christopher mention to you that he was eloping with his cousin?”
“Not to me, Amanda,” he said, thinking, This is nonsense! At least, I hope it is nonsense.
Turning to Lady Catherine, she said testily, “If your daughter has enticed our son to run off to Gretna Green, I am done with them both! We will not welcome Christopher back if he has married Anne, disregarding the wishes of his father and myself!”
Bearing a tray of tea and biscuits, the maid arrived just in time to hear the raised voices. She hesitated, trying not to tremble.
“We like Anne, of course,” Lord Fitzwilliam offered a small consolation, “but we have other plans for Christopher’s future.”
“So, if Anne thinks to entrap—”
“How dare you, Amanda!” Turning unsteadily, Lady Catherine brushed past the maid. “Oh, put down that tray, you silly creature! Call for my carriage! Where is Samuels?” The maid, still carrying the tray, followed Lady Catherine out of the room.
The Fitzwilliams listened wordlessly to Lady Catherine’s shouts and, finally, to the slamming of the door. After several moments of quiet, Lord Fitzwilliam asked, “You do not believe Anne and Christopher have gone to Gretna Green, do you?”
“No, my dear. Our son has taken Anne to Hertfordshire, where she will stay with Darcy and Georgiana. But by saying what I said, I have given Catherine a reason to chase her tail; she will think she cannot turn to us to help her in her search.”
Lord Fitzwilliam touched his wife’s cheek fondly. “What a clever woman I was wise enough to marry.”
≈≈≈
Since late morning, Georgiana had been watching from the drawing room at Purvis Lodge, eager for the first sight of the Darcy carriage. Now her vigilance was rewarded. “They are here!”
Darcy, who had tried with little success to distract himself with a book, walked her out to the portico as Thorpe, the butler, waited in the background. Suddenly feeling unsure, Georgiana asked, “Do you think Christopher managed to get Anne away?”
“Of course. He is a decorated army officer! Besides, if Anne were not with him, Fitz would have returned on horseback.”
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Darcy stepped forward to open the door. A relieved Anne grasped the hand he offered and stepped out. She was followed by a grinning Fitzwilliam, who said, “Surely, you did not doubt we would come?”
Georgiana embraced Anne. “Welcome! Welcome!”
“Dearest cousins, you have saved my life!”
“Well done, Fitz,” Darcy said.
“It was all very exciting, and we will dazzle you with our story over nuncheon, which I hope will be soon, as I am famished.”
Anne gestured to the young man sitting beside Ives in the driver’s seat. “Darcy, Georgiana, this is Michaels. It was through his clever plan that my letter reached you.”
Georgiana smiled warmly. “You have our deepest gratitude.”
Although unaccustomed to being introduced to servants, Darcy gave Michaels a shallow nod. If Anne values him, so will I. “Thank you. Will you return to London with Ives tomorrow?”
Anne said, “Michaels is my first employee. I will want my own staff when I claim my inheritance.”
“A wise move.” Darcy instructed Thorpe, “Kindly see to it that Michaels and Ives have a good meal with plenty of ale—or wine, if the men prefer—for we are celebrating.”
“I will arrange their accommodations, sir,” Thorpe said.
Darcy covered Anne’s hand with his. “You are safe here, and we will put an end your mother’s meddling once and for all.”
Turning toward the front door, Anne gasped when she saw her former companion. “Nora, you are here!” she exclaimed and ran to her friend’s arms.
“Elizabeth and Miss Darcy arranged it, with help from a Mr. Bingley.” At Anne’s appearance, Mrs. Jenkinson gasped. “You are so pale, so thin—we must have a doctor attend you!”
“I am with you again, Nora. That is all the medicine I need.”
“My dear, dear Anne,” Mrs. Jenkinson whispered in her ear.
≈≈≈
Anne embraced everyone—Elizabeth twice—before she let Mrs. Jenkinson lead her upstairs to freshen up. Within the hour, nuncheon commenced, and the happy reunion of family and friends lasted until dinner time. Initially, Elizabeth had been reluctant to remain, not wishing to intrude, but everyone insisted she stay and celebrate with them.
Within the giddy delight in the conversations, Elizabeth heard a strong undercurrent of relief. Fitzwilliam told of his mother’s participation in “getting the lay of the land” and, with interjections from Anne, he made a rousing tale of the dinner party and the escape. Georgiana, with interjections from Elizabeth, told of organizing Mrs. Jenkinson’s secret arrival from Brighton and concealing her presence from Longbourn and Lucas Lodge, lest Collins learn of it and inform Lady Catherine.
When Darcy spoke, however, it was in a subdued voice of sincere regret. He apologized to Anne for not being more attentive to her situation. However, she insisted no apology was necessary. “How could we have guessed the lengths to which Mama would go for her ambitions?”
≈≈≈
By seven o’clock, Anne could no longer suppress her yawns, so Georgiana insisted she and Mrs. Jenkinson retire for the evening.
“I would like an early night, as well,” Fitzwilliam said. “All this derring-do was exhausting.”
Darcy gave Elizabeth a fond look. “I, too, can do derring-do, dear girl. Depend on me to deliver you safely to Netherfield in the curricle, regardless of the dangers that may await us!”
“I welcome your heroic efforts, kind sir,” she replied, fluttering her lashes and matching his exaggerated manner of expression.
After brief farewells, Elizabeth and Darcy left for Netherfield, and Fitzwilliam, Anne, and Mrs. Jenkinson retired. The ladies had been given a suite of two bedrooms with a shared sitting room, and Georgiana’s maid had unpacked Anne’s trunks. Although sunset was still a more than an hour away, Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson moved the settee to face a westerly window. There they sat side by side, each holding a generous pour of brandy.
Mrs. Jenkinson laid her arm lightly on Anne’s shoulders. “I feel I must touch you to assure myself we are truly together.”
Anne leaned against her friend. “I was so worried about you, Nora. That is what made the situation intolerable; I did not know if Mama had harmed you, either by design or neglect.”
“Hush, dear girl. Lady Catherine stole our peace of mind for too long. Let us not give her a single thought tonight.”
“I say only this: our war with her is not over. We must not assume we are safe,” Anne said in a weary voice.
“Not yet. But we are together now. We have the support of the Darcys, the Bennets, the Fitzwilliams, and my brother, Peter. We will prevail, Anne,” she said, fiercely determined.
“I have not kissed you in more than a month!” Anne rained light kisses on her beloved friend’s cheeks and brow, just as she had done in the garden at Bath. “You are my home, Nora,” she murmured a moment before their lips touched.
≈≈≈
As an exhausted Fitzwilliam was drifting off to sleep, he recalled Lady Penelope’s words: “I expect to be compañeros with my new husband.” Jolted awake, he thought, She was saying she would combine her fortune with mine so that we may marry!
≈≈≈
In the small parlor adjoining her bedroom at De Bourgh House, Lady Catherine sat on a gilded throne-like chair. The last rays of the sun were fading from the window; soon she would be in darkness, save for the single candle in its silver holder on the small mahogany table beside her. Also on the table were a tobacco pipe from her late husband, a silver box containing a mixture of tobacco and Indian hemp leaves, a spill to light the pipe, and a Wedgwood dish for the ashes. Years ag
o, a friend of her husband’s had brought several hemp plants from the Americas, and they now flourished in the gardens at Rosings and De Bourgh House.
In times of distress, Lady Catherine often found clarity and calmness in her pipe. Tonight, as she drew the smoke into her lungs, she considered the puzzle of her daughter’s flight. Clearly, Christopher aided Anne. Who knows where he went after he left Rosings last spring. Yet, he suddenly appeared at Fitzwilliam House, convinced his foolish mother to have that ridiculous dinner, and demanded that Anne and I attend. Then, they scampered away like devious mice!
Then for me to return to here and find the staff in revolt against Spicer! Not only was he part of the plan to spirit Anne away—betraying me for money, they say—he stole from me and blamed the staff. Well, let him try to use my name to get another position, just let him try!
“It is a world gone mad,” Lady Catherine muttered. “I do not believe Christopher abducted Anne to marry her. Nor do I believe he needed Anne to take him to Mrs. Jenkinson, although he has shown a tendre for the woman. No, Anne, feeble creature that she is, used Christopher to deliver her to her friend!” she exclaimed, angrily slapping the arm of her chair with an open palm.
Lady Catherine took another lungful of smoke, and it calmed her. I will not make public my daughter’s flight—not yet. If she does not return within a month, perhaps, I will say she was kidnapped and ask for help in recovering her. But what if I never recover her—what then? Well, I shall have her declared dead!
But if she is returned to me, I will pay whatever I must to buy her a husband who will take her away. And if she refuses to wed, I will have her declared mentally unfit. My weak husband left me with a weak child. It is I who gave Rosings its reputation! I will not see my years of hard work destroyed by a foolish daughter!
Anne has undoubtedly fled to that Jenkinson creature. But where did Jenkinson? To her married brother in … some coastal town. Bournemouth? Portsmouth? Falmouth? Weymouth? Ply-mouth? I will send inquiry agents to all the “mouths” in the kingdom and to Bath … perhaps the fugitives are there.
