by Nina Mason
When Louisa opened her mouth to defend Theo, her father held up a silencing hand. “Hold your tongue, girl, for I can guess what you intend to say. Status, property, and even the welfare of your mother and sisters mean nothing to you because you are so deeply in love with this rogue. What you fail to realize is that your passion for each other will fade over time. And, when they do, you will be left with nothing but a disreputable commoner who no longer seeks your bed.”
“You are wrong! For I am certain we will live happily ever after.”
Her father scoffed. “Yours is a naïve and romantic outlook on marriage—a product no doubt of those silly novels you read. There are no happy endings in real life, daughter—and the sooner you become acquainted with the realities of love and marriage, the better off you will be.”
No, no, no! She refused to accept her father’s cynicism. Her love for Theo would never fade, nor would her passion for him. He was her true love. Her one and only. Her destiny. And she was convinced that, if allowed to marry, they would be happy for the rest of their days.
“You are wrong about the Captain, father. I would stake my life on it.”
He perched himself on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms across his chest. “Believe what you like, daughter, but I still must insist you give him up. And since I cannot trust you to respect my wishes, I will take the necessary steps to separate the two of you myself.”
“Father, please,” she pleaded. “I want a husband I love with all of my heart…and whose affections I cherish, not someone I must endure. If our passions fade, so be it. At least the Captain will never be cruel to me, which, in my books, makes him ten times worthier of my regard than your nephew.”
“Whatever merits he may or may not possess, your Captain will never be a gentleman in the eyes of society,” her father pointed out, “and that is all that matters. The gentry of Much Wenlock have been very gracious in welcoming him into our circle, but let not their good manners fool you into thinking they are unaware of his inferiority at every moment he is in company with them. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life beneath the notice of your own class?”
“I do not care what other people think.” Tears of desperation streamed down her cheeks. “I only care about being happy.”
“Happiness is an illusion, Louisa, and passion no excuse to make a bad match.”
Her father then rang for the butler. When Carlyle came, he said, “Have Townsend load the trunks while we are having dinner. I want to leave the moment we have finished our meal.”
Leave? What was he talking about? Then, she realized. He was taking her away tonight—before she could get word to Theo.
“Very good, sir,” the butler returned with a bow. “I shall see to your wishes without delay.”
Once Carlyle took his leave, Louisa turned to her father in extreme anxiety. “Where are you taking me?”
“I am sending you to your Aunt Hildegarde, who will keep an eagle-eye on you until you and Charles are wed. Georgianna will go with you—to ensure she can aid and abet you no longer. And do not waste your breath attempting to deny she assisted you in this caper. For she confessed it all under the sting of the switch.”
All the blood drained from Louisa’s face and congealed in the pit of her stomach. The prospect of living under the supervision of the female equivalent of Napoleon Bonaparte was only slightly less mortifying than being divided forever from Theo.
“To which of her residences are you sending us?”
“That I shall disclose only after we are safely away,” her father told her, “lest you have in mind to send word of your whereabouts to your seducer. And even then, I shall only tell you as much as you will need to know to travel there via the post-coach.”
Frustration and futility threatened to swallow her whole. “Oh, Papa,” she cried. “Do you not care that you are breaking my heart?”
“Broken hearts mend, Louisa,” he said, unmoved. “Unlike reputations. Now, bend over the desk and take your licks. For I mean to ensure you and your sister suffer for your sins with every jolt and judder of the carriage on the long ride ahead.”
He smiled then, but it was a villainous sort of sneer that made her wonder again if he took pleasure from his beatings. Biting her lip, she bent over the desk with her arms outstretched and her gaze fixed on the umbrella stand where he stored his birch rods. All of them had names—or, more accurately, titles. The biggest was the King, the second biggest, the Duke, and so on.
For her punishment, he chose the Marquis. Tucking the branches under his arm, he came up behind her and threw her skirts over her back. Then, he slashed the air to test the rod’s litheness. The hiss sent tremors of fear through Louisa. But that he might notice Theo’s emissions on her thighs frightened her even more.
Through the wall, she could hear the angels chiming in mockery. There were six pings—the same number of strikes her father typically administered. The birch hissed again just before the first strike landed. Searing pain cut across her posterior. She grimaced and gritted her teeth, but, as ever, denied him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
Sixteen
Louisa’s father got his wish. The welts on her backside did indeed torture her anew with every tremor of the chaise. The pain in her posterior, however, was nothing compared to what she suffered inside. She would never see Theo again unless she got word to him of her plight—and she could see no way to dash off a note under Papa’s constant guard.
Beside her on the rear-facing seat, Georgie, too, winced whenever they hit a rough patch of road. Though Louisa resented her sister for giving her up, it was the Cuthbertsons and her father who bore the brunt of her antagonism.
Judging by Papa’s malicious stares, he was no less furious with her. To avoid his looks, she stared out the window into the night. It was now eight o’clock and they were almost to Ludlow, where they would catch the post-coach to wherever he might be sending them.
In the quiet, Louisa tried to work out an escape plan. Much Wenlock was only twenty or so miles to the north of Ludlow, so, instead of boarding the coach, she might be able to hire a horse to take her back to Theo. It seemed a good plan until she remembered she had no money.
A loudly clearing throat drew Louisa’s attention back to her father. He held out a leather pouch, which jingled as she took it from him. Loosening the drawstrings, she found inside more coins than she’d ever seen before.
Baffled by his generosity, she blinked at her father. “What is this for?”
“You will need it for the journey,” he explained. “Besides the costly fares for inside seats on two coaches, you will have to tip every driver, guard, and waiter along the route. If you fail to offer the expected gratuities, you will be branded as cheap and treated accordingly.”
From this brief speech, Louisa gleaned an important clue. They would be changing coaches—in London, probably. Thus, Aunt Hildegarde’s townhouse in Mayfield was not their destination. That left only Bath or Midsomer Park in Somerset as possibilities.
It was nine o’clock by the time the chaise rolled up outside the coaching inn at Ludlow. Called the Crown Inn, it was a quaint, white-washed tavern with a slate roof and red door. After instructing his daughters to wait in the carriage, Papa disembarked and went inside.
Louisa seriously considered bolting. She had money now to hire a horse. Just as she reached for the door, Georgie grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Where are you going? Papa told us to wait for him here.”
“I no longer care what Papa wants. I only care what I want. And I want to marry Captain Raynalds. We were to go to Gretna Green tomorrow and…”
“He has proposed? Why did you not tell me?”
“I never got the chance.” Louisa kept her voice low. “Papa ambushed me the second I walked in the door and has kept me under surveillance ever since. He means to keep me and Captain Raynalds apart—and I do not intend to let him succeed.”
Before Georgie could respond, their father appeared b
eside the carriage looking even more miserable than when he’d left them minutes before.
“We have missed the confounded coach,” he said with vexation, “and there will not be another until tomorrow evening. We shall, therefore, spend the night here and save ourselves and the horses the extra miles it would take to go home and come back.”
“But what of the expense of two rooms?” Louisa hoped to appeal to his frugality. If he took them home, she could escape out the window and still meet Theo at the appointed hour.
“We have no need of two rooms,” her father replied. “For I have no intention of letting you out of my sight until the coach sets off with you and your sister aboard.”
The thought of spending the night in the same room with her father made Louisa even more miserable than she already was. How would she and Georgie change into their nightclothes?—or perform their evening toilettes with Papa looking on?
Chin dragging, she climbed out of the carriage and, with Georgie close behind, followed her father into the inn. Had she not been so despondent, she might have found the interior charming with its beamed ceilings, flagstone floors, and homey furnishings. But she was too unhappy at present to care about anything except finding her way back to Theo and happiness.
Having already eaten, they climbed the cramped, smoke-begrimed stairwell to their room. The sparse furnishings consisted of two iron beds, a pine washstand, and a changing screen. After their trunks were brought up, Louisa and Georgie went behind the screen to change for bed while their father performed his evening toilette at the washstand.
When the sisters finally turned in, their father came to their bed and said, “Since two travel slower than one, I’ve contrived a way to keep you from running off in the night.” He then bound their wrists together with a leather cuff affixed with a lock, the key to which he placed under his pillow.
As Louisa lay awake in the dark, her heart throbbing as painfully as her buttocks, something from Romeo and Juliet came back to her.
Oh, cruel, cursed fate in sight of Heaven!
That line, from the play’s tragic final scene, brought to mind another. Turning to where her father slept, she whispered spitefully, “Fathers have flinty hearts no tears can melt. Nature pleads in vain. Children must be wretched.”
* * * *
When Theo arrived at the meeting spot, he searched the darkness for Louisa. Not seeing her, he checked the watch on his fob. It was only a minute past five. Despite his gut feeling, he must hold out hope a bit longer.
His self-encouragement did little to instill optimism. The heaviness weighing upon his spirit would not yield to either hope or reason. If his instincts proved correct, she would not come—not because she had changed her mind about marrying him, but because her father had stopped her in some heartless way.
Still, on the off-chance he was wrong, he should wait. The minutes ticked past like hours. When, at a quarter to six, she still wasn’t there, he leaned out the window and shouted to his driver, “Take me to Craven Castle at once.”
When they got underway, he had no idea what he intended to do. He only knew he could not give her up, however intensely her father objected to them marrying.
It was not hard to guess how the Baronet had learned of their plans, and someday he would make the Cuthbertsons pay for their interference. At present, however, his only concern was retrieving Louisa before she was lost to him forever.
As the landau rolled to a stop at the top of the drive, Theo, ready to do battle, climbed out and lumbered purposefully to the front door. The servants and family would still be abed, giving him the advantage of surprise. He pounded on the door with his fist. When no one responded after a reasonable interval, he banged again with the head of his cane.
At length, the butler opened the door. Though the man looked exceedingly put out, Theo soldiered on. “I wish to see Miss Louisa Bennet at once.”
The butler eyed him impatiently. “Do you have any notion how early it is, sir?”
“I do,” Theo told him, “and do not care.”
“Well, sir. You might have no care, but I do…and would not announce a gentleman caller to Miss Louisa at this early hour even were she here.”
Theo’s hopes collapsed. He had not considered that Louisa’s father might have sent her away. “Where has she gone?”
“That, I cannot tell you, sir.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Cannot, sir,” was the butler’s answer. “For the master told no one under this roof where they were bound.”
They? So, the ornery old goat had gone with her.
Theo licked his lips and cleared his throat. “That being the case, will you kindly announce me to Miss Georgianna?”
The manservant eyed him skeptically. “Announce who, sir?”
Theo threw back his shoulders. “Captain Raynalds of Greystone Hall.”
A strange smirk—half admiration, half disbelief—stole across the butler’s face. “Well, I will say this much for you, Captain. Coming here after what you have done proves you’ve got bollocks of brass.”
Though Theo could not help taking pride in the remark, he was getting nowhere fast. Asking again if he might see Miss Georgianna, the butler informed him she had gone along with her father and sister. “But not before birching them both severely.” The manservant shook his head. “Those poor, dear girls. They deserve to be treated better, as does their mother. What we deserve, however, is seldom what the Lord sees fit to give us. Is that not so, Captain?”
“It is indeed,” Theo said as maggots of despair fed on his hopes.
The butler was more forthcoming than expected. Capitalizing on his candor, Theo pressed the servant until he was satisfied the man truly knew nothing.
Upon returning home, Theo made his way to the parlor and poured himself a sizeable brandy. He cared not that it was the crack of dawn. He’d had his heart ripped out and needed to dull the pain.
Half a bottle later, when he was deep in his cups, the breakfast bell rang. Though he had no appetite, he wanted to talk to his sister, whose sympathy he desperately needed. When he entered the dining room, Winnie’s eyes grew as big as saucers and her mouth fell open.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” he said bellicosely, “in case you’ve forgotten.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” she returned with equal belligerence. “Why are you not on your way to Scotland with Louisa?”
“For the simple fact that Louisa has been prevented from marrying me by her father.”
Fury and disbelief mirroring his own shone in his sister’s eyes. “I cannot believe it! What are you going to do?”
“Go after her, of course—just as soon as I can discover where the devil he has taken her.”
He walked away, toward the breakfast buffet, which displayed enough food to feed the crew of a war ship. Moving around the table empty-handed, he claimed the seat across from his sister. “Help me, Winnie. Help me think of a way to trace her, for my heart will break if I do not find her before she is forced to marry her cousin.”
Winnie thought for a few moments before asking, “What do you know about her cousin?”
“Nothing, except that his name is Charles and she loathes the very ground he walks upon.”
“Sadly, I know no more than you—but somebody must. Think, Theo. Think hard. Who might know more about this man?—and might also share the information with us?”
“Louisa’s relations would know, of course, but I do not know them,” he said glumly.
“That might not matter,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “On more than one occasion, I have seen Louisa’s two younger sisters shopping in the village unaccompanied. I was introduced to them at Saturday’s assembly and, from what I observed, they are the sort of silly, thoughtless girls who could be persuaded to reveal secrets with very little prying.”
Impressed by his sister’s cleverness, and the lengths to which she would go to secure his happiness, T
heo gave Winnie a grateful smile. “That being the case, I can think of no better way to spend this miserable day than by shopping in the village. And, to reward your shrewdness, I shall buy you whatever your heart desires—however dear the price.”
She beamed at him across the table. “You take such good care of me, brother.”
“No, Winnie.” He returned with a sad smile. “It is you who takes the greater care of me.”
* * * *
Theo filled his lungs with fresh country air as the landau trundled toward the village. He was in remarkably good spirits, all things considered. Whether it was the sunshine or the prospect of finding Louisa that had improved his disposition, he could not say. He only knew he felt more optimistic than expected after this morning’s eviscerating let-down.
After entering the village proper, he followed the line of shops with his gaze, hoping to spot the younger Bennet girls strolling or window-shopping. “Let me know if you see them,” he told Winnie, who was hawking in a similar manner, “or a shop you wish to browse.”
“Oh, I will, dear brother,” she replied with a note of humor in her voice. “Have no fear on that score.”
They passed a butcher, a baker, a brewer, and a bookseller. They passed poultry stalls, farm stands, and fish mongers. The streets were milling with shoppers in straw hats and bonnets, most of them women and girls with baskets on their arms.
The breeze carried the offensive odors of dung and rotting vegetables to his nose. Eager to escape the stench, he ordered the driver to take them down the High Street and leave them off near the Town Square. Surely, the better shops there were more likely to attract young ladies of quality.
When the driver stopped, Theo and Winnie disembarked and strolled for a while before his sister stopped. The window that captured her interest displayed bonnets, fans, gloves, and reticules.