by Head, Gail
The cool morning air revived Elizabeth's flagging spirits. Taking a fortifying breath, she approached her father who was speaking to a pleasant-looking woman of about five and thirty sitting within the carriage.
“Lizzy, this is Mrs. Ann Tipton, your traveling companion.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tipton. It looks like we have pleasant weather for our journey.”
“I believe we do, Miss Bennet.”
“Yes, indeed, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet agreed affably. “I have been asking Mrs. Tipton, here, about the roads you will take, but she is unable to give me any details. Tell me, madam, do you know how far you will go today?”
“It is not certain, my dear Mr. Bennet. I am but a simple companion and have not a thought in my brain for such things. However, I do know we must be on our way if we are to get anywhere at all.” Smiling broadly, she ignored Mr. Bennet's frown and urged, “Shall you come, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth embraced Jane with some restraint, not wanting to cause any undo concern. Nevertheless, she absorbed every minute detail around her as a parting memory. It would be a great comfort in the unknown days ahead. Turning to their father, she met his eyes and exchanged a look of encouragement before kissing his cheek.
“Look after Jane for me, Father,” she whispered.
Mr. Bennet pressed her arm and nodded slightly. Casting a glance in Jane's direction, he lightened the mood with a merry smile and led Elizabeth to the door of the carriage, helping her in.
“Well, Lizzy, off you go! I wish you God's speed. Do not worry about us for a minute, we shall be fine – all of us.”
Fighting a desperate feeling of loss within, Elizabeth entered the carriage and took her place across from Mrs. Tipton. Waving one last farewell, the ache in her heart swelled as the pair standing in the drive and all that had been her life until now passed from view.
* * * *
Much to Elizabeth's consternation, the journey did not begin well. Once they were away from Longbourn, her attempts to engage Mrs. Tipton in conversation were met with short, unresponsive replies. She was still puzzling over the mystery of the woman's abrupt change in manner when the driver brought the horses to a stop and Mr. Wickham stepped into the carriage. Her concern and surprise only increased when Mrs. Tipton's distant manners instantly transformed into a warm and inviting welcome.
Wickham kissed the older woman's hand, and turned a gleeful smile to Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I introduce you to an old friend of mine – Mrs. Ann Tipton…Younge.”
Elizabeth caught her breath at the name. With sinking heart she realized her companion was the very same woman who had betrayed Darcy's trust and exposed his sister to ruin! What was Wickham up to? Had she made a fatal error by placing herself in the power of these two people?
Their obvious amusement at concealing Mrs. Younge's true identity did nothing to assuage Elizabeth's concerns. Wickham's callous manner underscored his non-existent regard for Lydia's feelings or those of her family. …your selfish disdain for the feelings of others… The words burned in her memory. How very wrong she had been! It was not Mr. Darcy who was deserving of those words, but the man who sat down across from her as the carriage moved off.
The party travelled for some time in an awkward silence. Elizabeth tried to focus on the passing scenery but was frequently distracted by the knowing looks and occasional whispers of her two companions. After one such exchange that required her to find a diversion in the handiwork of the small cushion beneath her arm, her curiosity was roused by a tiny monogram she discovered embroidered into the decorative edging. Looking closer, she saw “LDB” worked in elegant, impressively minute stitches. Her contemplation as to the owner of the initials was interrupted when the carriage came to a stop in front of a small country inn. Looking out, she observed a building sadly in need of attention. Guests of any quality, it seemed, were not a common occurrence.
Wickham handed the ladies out of the carriage and Elizabeth stifled an involuntary shudder when her gloved hand connected with his. As they stood in the courtyard, he whispered something to Mrs. Younge, then bowed to Elizabeth with murmured instructions to wait a moment. The two women remained where they were without speaking as he entered the long, low structure, then returned a few minutes later to escort them inside.
Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, Elizabeth found herself being guided down a long hallway that emptied into a sparsely furnished sitting room whose only light was a low, smoldering fire in the soot-laden hearth. Although there were several private rooms that opened off this main room, Elizabeth deduced from the eerie stillness permeating the air, that they were quite alone. They entered one of the private rooms and she found that it too exhibited the same worn and shabby condition as the rest of the building. She was in the midst of looking around at her bleak surroundings when the rasp of a bolt sliding solidly into place sounded behind her.
She spun around to see Wickham coming toward her, a menacing look on his face. Stepping backward as he approached, Elizabeth ran into the solid figure of Mrs. Younge standing behind her. She turned to plead for the woman's help, but the words lodged in her throat as she saw Wickham's cruel smile echoed on Mrs. Younge's face. She gasped as Wickham's arms wrapped around her, his hands forcefully grabbing her wrists in a crushing grip.
“Unhand me!” Elizabeth cried, trying to hide her terror.
“In a moment, my dear. This will not take long,” he calmly assured her as she struggled against his grasp. “Be quick about it, Ann. The coach will be here soon!”
“I can't do anything with her thrashing about. Hold her still!”
With a wicked grin, Wickham obliged by pulling Elizabeth's arms tightly behind her back, bringing her firmly against his body. She gasped anew at the pain in her arms but refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing her panic. Terrified and furious at the same time, Elizabeth strained in a violent effort to free herself, but Wickham's superior strength held her fast. Forced to endure Mrs. Younge's vigorous examination, Elizabeth could only shut her eyes against the horror of the woman's searching hands moving roughly across her chest and down her legs.
“There's nothing here!” Mrs. Younge complained.
“Keep looking. I am confident Miss Bennet would not travel so far without resources. Would you my dear?” he murmured darkly in her ear.
Renewing her efforts, Mrs. Younge soon gave a triumphant cry as her fingers closed around the coins pinned beneath Elizabeth's skirt.
“You were right! She did have money – and quite a nice sum at that!”
Elizabeth's heart plummeted when the coins that would have been her means of escape dropped into Mrs. Younge's own pocket. Wickham relaxed his hold and Elizabeth shook him off with an angry shrug.
“Are you satisfied?” she hissed.
“Quite. I am sure you would not want to jeopardize your family's reputation by backing out of our arrangement, but I was obliged to remove the temptation from you all the same. Now, shall we have some refreshment before the coach arrives?” he offered cheerfully.
Moving to a small table which held a tray of tea and biscuits, he filled a cup and held it out to Elizabeth. Badly shaken by the cold-hearted assault, she managed to quell the trembling in her hands as she accepted the cup. She had to do everything in her power to keep her wits about her for the situation was much more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. She realized it would take every possible stratagem for her plan to succeed.
With little appetite, it was not difficult to refuse the biscuits, and Elizabeth had only managed to consume half her lukewarm tea before a heavy hand banged on the door, announcing the arrival of the post coach.
Quickly finishing his biscuit, Wickham gulped down the last of his tea and hurried the two ladies out to the waiting carriage. Their luggage was already secured on top and the door stood open, showing them to be the only passengers. Handing Elizabeth and her companion in, he stepped back as the stable boy folded the st
eps and closed the door. She looked at him in confusion and he responded with a broad smile.
“This is where I leave you now. I am returning to Meryton as Mrs. Forster has invited me to dine this evening and I would not want to disappoint her. I wish you a pleasant journey, ladies. I do not expect there will be any difficulties now that we all understand one other – do we not?” His eyes swept boldly over Elizabeth before giving Mrs. Younge a sly wink.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but was suddenly thrown backwards as Wickham thumped the side of the carriage to signal the coachman, and the impatient horses were given their head. Her indignant cry was drowned out by the crack of the whip and pounding hooves as the carriage lurched out of the cobbled courtyard and onto the road leading northward.
Awkwardly, Elizabeth struggled to regain her seat as Mrs. Younge looked on with obvious amusement. When she finally managed to right herself, the woman turned to inspect the passing countryside, ignoring Elizabeth altogether. Elizabeth sat studying the woman who had happily aided Mr. Wickham in his despicable attack at the inn and wondered what had happened in Ann Younge's life to create such a vile and unprincipled creature.
Soon she turned away as well and gazed out the window though she saw nothing of what lay beyond. Her mind was too engaged with the enormity of her situation. Robbed of her money and her dignity, she was being carried headlong into the unknown with no more than a hope of finding help at the end of her journey.
She struggled against the tears now welling in her eyes, searching her mind for something – anything – that would lift her spirits, but even thoughts of Jane and Mr. Bingley were not enough; and at length, she lost the battle. Her misery spilled over in waves of hot tears that coursed down her cheeks unchecked. Wickham's ruthless behavior made her all the more desperate to save her family from his evil plans and she prayed that her efforts would not be in vain.
Chapter 6
Shifting her position yet again on the uncomfortable, well-worn cushions of the aging post coach, Elizabeth tried to find a way to shield her already bruised limbs from its brutally jarring motions. She was grateful there were no other occupants at present, but that fact was little compensation for the seemingly endless days of travel filled with hot, dusty roads, more than one leering gentleman, and Mrs. Younge's insufferable company. A sudden jolt of the carriage, which nearly threw her from her seat, drained Elizabeth's last ounce of patience.
“Shall we reach our next stop before nightfall, Mrs. Younge?”
“I did not know you were so anxious to begin your servitude,” the woman scoffed in response, igniting Elizabeth's temper.
“I am merely wanting to know how long we shall have to endure the abuse of this particular road. The highways of the north are highly overrated.”
“It is of no consequence. You will take what comes to you. Did you not learn that when we started this journey?” Mrs. Younge replied tauntingly.
“I learned that I am in the company of a heartless woman,” Elizabeth shot back. “And, if you believe that despicable attack in Hertfordshire injured my spirits, you are greatly mistaken. You may have robbed me of my money, madam; but not my courage!”
“Oh, I see! Those must have been tears of courage you cried as we left Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at Mrs. Younge's sneering comment, and she turned back to her own window, more anxious than ever to free herself from the woman's petty cruelties. Just as she was beginning to think they would travel all the way to Scotland, the coach lurched to a stop in a small village and Ann Younge ordered their trunks to be removed.
Relieved to be off the road at last, Elizabeth examined her surroundings and discovered they were in the village of Hensingham. She had spent the greater part of the journey tracking their progress northward and, from her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's description of the Lake District, she believed herself to be in Cumberland, the very region she had thought to tour with them. The certainty of her situation sunk a little deeper as she realized that she would not be seeing them or any of her family any time soon.
After directing the care of their luggage, Mrs. Younge surveyed the streets and then smiled in success. She pushed Elizabeth toward a fine carriage that stood waiting at the next street corner. Two footmen dressed in dark blue livery came to attention at the sight of the two women.
Detecting Mrs. Younge's eagerness to reach the comfort of the handsomely appointed coach, Elizabeth slowed her pace and then stopped altogether, calmly smoothing her dress and adjusting her gloves.
“Hurry up! The coach is waiting,” Ann Younge commanded, nearly quivering with impatience.
“Why, Mrs. Younge, it seems I have a stone in my boot. I think I shall have to remove it,” Elizabeth observed lightly and sat down on a nearby bench.
“I don't care if you have ten stones in your-” Mrs. Younge hissed furiously before realizing that one of the footmen had approached close enough to overhear them. She snapped her mouth closed, her face coloring with suppressed fury, and several seconds passed before she could finally manage to choke out the words that courtesy demanded. “By all means, Miss Bennet. I am happy to wait for you.”
Elizabeth turned a brilliant smile on the footman. “Please excuse my traveling companion. We have come a very long way, and her nerves are somewhat frayed.”
“I understand, Miss. There is no hurry. We shall depart at your convenience,” he replied with a smile of his own.
Mrs. Younge glared at the prolonged efforts to remove the imaginary pebble. After some frustrated minutes, she smiled slyly and addressed Elizabeth in a voice loud enough to be heard by those close by.
“Miss Bennet, please do hurry along. We would not want to begin your employment with a late arrival.”
Elizabeth colored slightly, but still waited another minute before standing. “Of course, Mrs. Younge. I would not want to keep someone of importance waiting.”
“Quite right,” sniffed her companion triumphantly, missing the slur altogether.
Smiling to herself, Elizabeth accepted the hand of the footman and entered the carriage behind Mrs. Younge. Surveying the well-appointed interior and noting the blue and yellow crest embroidered on the cushions, she could not help wondering exactly what sort of employer she would find at the end of her journey.
* * * *
After the tortuous, rough and tumble journey of the past few days, Elizabeth was grateful for the luxuriously smooth ride that took them along a narrow coastal road. Their southward course followed a rugged shore line, giving her brief glances of the rock-strewn beaches below. Looking away from the turbulent sea, she saw only sparsely covered hills that had been ravaged by unrelenting winds over centuries of time and were now pocked with gaping patches of sand and limestone.
They travelled through the cheerless terrain for some time before Elizabeth caught sight of a patch of green in the distance. As they drew closer, she could see the green spread over the hill and merge with a myriad of tree-covered hills beyond. The grandeur of the great house that appeared to be their destination and its surrounding park stood out in stark contrast to the bleak landscape they had just passed through. Somberly, Elizabeth took in every detail. There was nothing familiar, nothing even remotely like her beloved Hertfordshire.
The carriage soon came to a stop. With quiet determination, she pushed aside the painful thoughts of home and family as she emerged into the late afternoon sun to face her unsettled future. With genuine interest she examined the architecture looming before her and was surprised to see the form of a man watching their arrival from a window above. He made no gesture of acknowledgment nor did he attempt to conceal himself as she studied his tall, dark figure.
Looking out from the window of his study, Robert Grissholm took another sip of wine from the glass in his hand. He could not help a small smile at the frank examination he had received from the woman he concluded to be Elizabeth Bennet. Though not a classic beauty, she was handsome enough; and if her arrival was any indi
cation, the plan to add his own contribution to Fitzwilliam Darcy's misery would prove to be an interesting affair.
It was another few minutes before Grissholm slowly drained the remaining wine in his glass and set it aside. With a quick shrug to adjust the cut of his coat against his broad shoulders, he headed for the drawing room and the task that awaited him there.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I trust I have not kept you long.” Looking to the older of the two women, he added, “You are Mrs. Younge, I presume.”
“Yes, Lord Grissholm, I am,” Younge answered, somewhat awed by the grandeur of the house and its imposing master.
“I hope your journey was pleasant?”
“Oh, yes, sir. You are so good to inquire. Our journey was uneventful and we made good time, although the roads were a bit rough - the post, you know - but we are happy to have arrived safely.” Realizing from the stern expression on his face that she was on the verge of babbling, Mrs. Younge turned and gestured toward Elizabeth. “Your Lordship, may I introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Bennet.” He gave a small bow in her direction, and she made her curtsey.
“Your Lordship. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
A shock of surprise crossed her face as she rose to see him boldly examining her. Struggling to maintain a civil expression in the face of his intimate scrutiny, she looked away, unconsciously arching her brow in a rather provocative manner.
Grissholm cleared his throat and his mind as he returned to the matter at hand and motioned for the ladies to be seated.
“I shall come directly to the point, Miss Bennet. You have been engaged to act as companion for my ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. You are expected to attend her here at Everton each day and accompany her to any social engagements in the neighborhood that I may accept on her behalf. She has been schooled in all the usual accomplishments necessary for a young lady of her standing; however, she is to be presented next spring and must posses a greater degree of poise and self-confidence than she has at present if she is to get on in society.” He then leveled a knowing look at Elizabeth as he finished. “Something I am certain you are more than capable of teaching her.”