by Ted Bader
The following Sunday morning, Sarah and Anna returned to the foreman’s cottage; when the door was opened, more than a dozen eager children’s faces were focused on her entrance. Sarah stepped inside with Anna. Mrs. Hand stepped forward to welcome Sarah and said, “Welcome class. This is Miss Sarah Bingley, who is going to teach us how to read and write.”
“Thank you. I brought along my charge, Miss Anna Staley, to help. She is an excellent reader.”
Mrs. Hand said, “No doubt you notice several mothers and fathers present. They, along with myself, would also like to read and write. May we also join the class?”
Sarah was unprepared for this. She had anticipated a handful of children. Not only was the class larger than she’d planned for; now they wanted her to teach adults. She wanted to turn and leave. However, as she surveyed the faces of the adults present, she saw the same eagerness as in the children and her heart melted. “Why, of course,” was her reply. “We will start off by learning the letters of the alphabet.”
Chapter Eighteen
A few days later, a late evening knock at the door of Staley Hall preceded Mr. Darcy’s entrance into the parlor, where the adult Staleys and Sarah Bingley were sitting.
Mr. Darcy’s face showed grave concern as he spoke, “There has been a riot at Westbrook estate. At least one building has been set afire; and, for all we know, the remaining estate may be burning as we speak.” Continuing to pace nervously, he added, “Our information estimates as many as fifty men may be involved.”
Sir Thomas motioned him to sit down, “We will help in any way we can. What can we do?”
“I would have you go to speak with the group of men. Perhaps you can reason with them and get them to desist.”
Georgiana then spoke with alarm, “Brother. You are the most respected man in the county. Would they not listen to you?”
“Unfortunately, I think not. As magistrate, I have had to sentence several of the ring leaders for past misdeeds. I fear my presence may inflame them.”
Sir Thomas turned to his wife, “A magistrate is helpless without a militia, and we have none in Derbyshire now. If your brother shows his face, he may be lynched.” He gently grasped Georgiana’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly as he turned back to Mr. Darcy, “Are any of the men of Pemberley involved?”
“No, but they are afraid of what the mob may do. The workers of Pemberley are loyal to us, but we can only muster, at the most, twelve men.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I doubt any of the rioters are angry with Pemberley Hall. This difficulty has been brewing while you have been absent in France. There have been land disputes involving the Westbrooks. With a shortage of arable land, and the sometimes arrogant attitude of the Westbrooks, it has boiled over. I have tried to reason with the present Earl of Westbrook, but he is both dogmatic and senseless.”
“What plan do you have?”
“We will maintain a defensive position at the bridge of Pemberley. If we fail, Staley Hall may be next in line.” He glanced quickly at Georgiana as if to ascertain if this talk were too straightforward for her. Seeing her resigned, but trusting expression, he continued, “If the fighting begins, Elizabeth plans to take the women servants to Becker’s Point, halfway between our estates. I suggest Georgiana do the same with the Staley Hall servants.” Looking at Georgiana now, he asked, “Do you know the way to Becker’s point?”
She smiled briefly at Thomas, “Indeed. If I were blind, my heart could still lead me to it.”
“Good,” Fitzwilliam continued as he headed out the door, “Elizabeth will send a runner if it becomes necessary.”
Thomas and Georgiana looked at each other as she asked, “Are you sure you should go?”
Thomas stood and paced slowly, “My unsought after calling appears to be diplomacy. To avoid such service would be cowardly.” Sitting beside Georgiana, he took her hand once again, “If the warning comes, take Edgar and Anna to Becker’s Point and enough money to make it to the Darcy home in London.” Looking at Sarah, he added, “Perhaps you could help by preparing a small satchel of clothing and such for the children and yourself, should evacuation become necessary.”
Quietly, but firmly, Sarah said, “I would be of more use if I came with you to assist any of the injured. I am sure Lady Staley can manage the children.”
Sir Thomas looked at Georgiana for her response and then back to Sarah. “I value your skill as a nurse. A riot is certainly no place for a lady; but, neither was gaol a proper place. You were invaluable then, I am sure you will also be helpful tonight. You must agree to stay back in the carriage and, if things get out of control, go directly to Becker’s Point.”
“Yes, Sir Thomas.” Sarah smiled calmly. “I have a small bag of supplies readied for emergencies. I shall retrieve them and my cloak and meet you out front in a moment.”
As she stood to leave the room, Sarah heard Thomas say, “That girl has a real gift for healing. Did you see how calm she is?”
Sir Thomas was waiting out front by the carriage as Sarah exited the house. “Reverend Henry Westbrook and his son, Paul, are waiting for us at the rectory.
Reverend Henry Westbrook was a longtime close friend of Sir Thomas and a brother to the current Earl. While not in the immediate line of succession, since the Earl had a son, he had an abiding interest in his family home. As a popular parson, he probably had little to risk in going with Sir Thomas. His adopted son, Paul, was seven and twenty, college-educated at Cambridge and now recently out of the army to prepare for the ministry.
As the carriage with Sir Thomas and Sarah Bingley stopped at the rectory, Sarah observed Paul to be a tall and handsome man as he entered the carriage. His father calmly climbed into the carriage and shook Sir Thomas’ hand with all the meaning an English handshake gives. While little emotion appeared evident, Sarah knew the two older men to be loyal, long-time friends.”
“In the thick of it again, eh, Thomas?”
“I cannot seem to avoid it. Why are you going? You certainly could remain at the parsonage.”
“It is my family home, you remember; besides, many of the men know that I have long been on their side in the dispute.”
Sir Thomas turned to Paul, “And what is your interest?”
“I came to see to the safety of my father. As a former regimental officer, I may know some of the men.”
“Good,” was Thomas’ reply.
Both of the Westbrooks looked at Sarah, as though just now noticing she were in the carriage. “Miss Sarah,” the Reverend began, “I must confess, I am quite surprised to count you amongst our numbers. Are we taking you to Pemberley to help Elizabeth?”
Sarah could not help but note the hint of hopefulness in his voice. “No sir,” she replied with a slight smile. “I shall be going with you to the riot.”
Sir Thomas quickly interrupted, “Sarah is a gifted nurse. She insisted on coming in case she could be of help. However, since it is no place for a lady, she agreed to remain in the carriage unless she is needed.” Turning to Paul, he asked, “Since you have had military experience, would you remain with Sarah and see to her safety?”
“It would be my honor,” the young man replied.
“Keep a close watch on the rioters as I talk with them. If you sense things are getting out of hand, take off immediately. Sarah knows where the family is to meet.”
“But, sir, how would you and my father retreat if needed?”
“We will watch out for each other. Your duty is to Miss Sarah.”
“Yes, sir. But, if flight is necessary, I will return as soon as I have deposited my charge in a safe place.”
Sarah wished she could demand to stay no matter what. After all, if things turned ugly, they would truly need her assistance. However, she knew that Sir Thomas would never agree to allow her to place herself in jeopardy. So she sank back into a corner of the carriage, as though hoping they would forget she was there, while the men discussed the best way to approach the mob.
As the group approached
the Westbrook estate, a thick odor of smoke began enveloping the carriage. A cacophony of sounds assailed them in growing strength as they drew close--men shouting, a hammer banging, the harsh crackle and pop noises of a building on fire.
Sarah found herself praying earnestly, as she was sure her three increasingly somber companions were doing. The carriage stopped about 100 feet from the burning stable. The glow of the fire cast an eerie pall on the faces of Thomas and Mr. Westbrook as they exited the carriage. Thomas quickly instructed the driver to turn the carriage around and beat a hasty retreat if Mr. Paul Westbrook were to give the signal.
As the former-ambassador and the rector approached the mass of men milling about the stable yard, Paul stepped down and stood outside the carriage. Sarah moved to the other seat, facing the stable, so she could see the events. Perhaps it was not ladylike, but she wanted to know what was happening.
There appeared to be about four dozen men, gathering into a tighter group as the two negotiators approached. Sarah could see a man standing on top of an overturned farm wagon, about twenty yards away. She could hear him shouting, “We need to control ourselves and the way we make our demands or the militia will intervene.”
“Burn ‘em,” someone in the crowd shouted.
The apparent leader saw Sir Thomas and Reverend Westbrook approach. He shouted, “Sir Thomas Staley is here!”
Sarah heard many things shouted in response. Fortunately, she did not understand all their words, but she heard voices call out, “We don’t need no blueblood.” “Let him speak.” “Lynch him.” “Let him have his say.”
The voices began to settle down as Sarah realized the extreme tension of the mob.
Sir Thomas stepped on top of the wagon, while the elder Mr. Westbrook stood behind. Thomas surveyed the crowd calmly for several moments and the group quieted. Then he began in a loud voice, “Ye men of Derbyshire and veterans of Waterloo. . . .”
A voice piped up, “What does a gentleman like you know about ‘loo?”
Another shouted, “He’s a veteran, with a wound to prove it, ya boob.”
Laughing at this, the atmosphere became much less tense and more attentive to Sir Thomas as he continued, “You men have legitimate grievances. I am here to listen and represent your concerns to the king, if need be. Violence and arson will not get you what you want. If you persist, the militia will come and trade your freedom for gaol or worse.”
“The Westbrooks are heavy on the land and village,” someone cried out.
“A Westbrook family member is here, ready to listen to you.” The group whooped it up, until they realized it was “only” Mr. Henry Westbrook.
“Why’d you bring the good parson by? We have a dispute with his worthless older brother, not him.”
“He promises to urge his family to settle the dispute in the proper way. He will listen to the grievances you have and try to arrange an agreement.”
Here a favorable shout went up. “The parson is right good at speakin’.”
Sir Thomas continued, “I, too, pledge to represent your interests--but only on the condition that you disband and promise not to form an unruly mob again.”
With this last statement, Thomas jumped off the wagon to shake hands and to speak to the men one by one. He almost appeared to be running for parliament, though most of the men could not vote. The tenseness disappeared and the crowd began to melt away. After the last man left, Sir Thomas and Mr. Westbrook came over to the carriage and told the waiting twosome that they were going to inspect the damage.
Mr. Paul Westbrook climbed back into the carriage and said, “I am glad this mob has been dispersed. I hope the district can regain its calm.”
“I always thought of Derbyshire as a peaceful retreat. This episode took me quite by surprise.”
“I am sure it did,” he said. “May I say, it took me quite be surprise to see you looking quite calm and pleased to be attending a riot.”
“Indeed, I was not ‘pleased to be attending. . . .”
“Of course not. I was sure you could not have changed that much in eight years.”
Sarah smiled slightly, “You always have had a way of. . . .”
“Upsetting you?” he asked innocently.
“Not exactly the word I would have selected,” she chided, “but close. You have changed for the better. I sensed a strength in you tonight and a knowledge of how to defend me, should the need arise.”
“The military does breed a certain amount of confidence in a man, whether to his detriment or benefit, I am not sure.” Leaning back on the carriage seat, he said, “You have certainly matured beautifully. Little did I know back then that you were to become a published author. If things keep progressing, you will be as famous as Jane Austen,” he gently teased.
“Poo, poo. I am only a lamp compared to her bright sunshine. You, however, took several firsts at Cambridge, I understand.”
“That is true; but that and my military service seem so insignificant. The calling I feel to enter the ministry has given new meaning to my life.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
At this point, the conversation was interrupted as the older men returned to the carriage. The entire party was thankful to be returning home unmolested.
The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy arrived at Staley Hall, with Maria. Sir Thomas handed the ladies out. Mr. Darcy stepped down and asked Sir Thomas, “Your brief stop last night greatly allayed our concern, but now you must tell us all about it.”
Mrs. Darcy said to Sarah, “For once we have a female observer. It is not often one of our sex reports on these disturbances.”
“Thankfully, there is little to report,” Sarah demurred. She turned her head away quickly and covered her mouth with a hankie as she coughed. “Please excuse me from too much talking, I seem to have developed a cold.” After she coughed again, she added, “Colds are so unladylike, do you not agree?”
Elizabeth Darcy chuckled, “I will agree that a cold is something a lovely young woman such as yourself should not have to endure.” With a smile she continued, “I shall tell Andrew that he must use his knowledge of science and botany to find a solution to the problem of colds.”
The group headed into the parlor of Staley Hall and Sir Thomas urged Sarah to describe the events of the prior evening. With a slightly raspy voice, Sarah told the tale, particularly emphasizing Sir Thomas’ and the Reverend and Paul Westbrook’s roles. By the time she finished embellishing her story, all three men looked liked gallant heroes who had fought down a vicious mob--without injuring anyone, of course, since that would have been a unsuitable type of story for a proper lady to tell.
Maria clapped her hands, “How brave they are.”
Thomas laughed loudly, “I am afraid our novel-writer has added her own special touch to the story. Sarah my dear, you made it so exciting, I almost wish it had happened as you say. Instead, I must confess, it just took a bit of reasoning with a few of the men known to me; they then influenced the others. They simply want to make sure someone will listen to their grievances and try to make changes.”
Sarah smiled demurely, “Is that not what I said?”
The entire group chuckled. Maria said, “Since the rioters have settled down, may we continue with our plans for the ball next week?”
Elizabeth responded, “I do not know if that would be wise.”
Maria quickly turned to Mr. Darcy, “Father, please. It will be a wonderful diversion.”
He finally replied, “Indeed, we do not want an atmosphere of martial law. With the militia arriving tomorrow in Derby, I think we can safely assume common law is reinstated. My concerns are alleviated, but the burden of a ball falls most heavily on your mother.”
All eyes in the room turned to Mrs. Darcy, as she reparteed to Mr. Darcy, “You certainly have learned how to avoid being unpopular with your children.” Turning to Maria, she said, “Yes. Yes, Maria, The princess shall have her ball.”
“Thank you, mother,” Maria said as she h
ugged her mother’s neck. “May Sarah and I be excused to discuss the ball?”
At Elizabeth’s nod Maria and Sarah walked up to the latter’s sitting room. Sarah was quiet as she tried not to sniffle.
As they settled into their seats, Maria began, “I suppose you are wondering about Mr. Johnson.”
Sarah nodded, as she stifled a sneeze.
“Well, I have not had any opportunity to tell him to desist, but I am resolved to that being the proper course of action. Do you think a letter would be appropriate?”
“Has he proposed?”
“No, but he has hinted.”
“It is difficult to refuse an unvoiced petition by letter.”
“In any case, it will be difficult to forestall his affections.” Maria said hopefully, “Perhaps, if I avoid him he will lose interest.”
“That certainly would be the most graceful way for this problem to resolve itself.”
After a moment’s silence, Maria said brightly, “It seems to me that I need to decide who I should marry. I mean, now I know who I do not wish to marry. . . .”
“Maria,” Sarah chided. “I think you are confused about the role our sex plays in the courtship procedure.”
“No. No. No. I do not mean to propose; but, I have decided upon the man and I am going to use every resource of encouragement to fix him upon me.”
“Do go on. This sounds like a good plot for my next novel.”
“Perhaps it will be,” Maria seriously answered. “With my simple mindedness and foolishness, I need a man with wisdom and intelligence. Of course, he will need an eye and soul of appreciation for my beauty.” With a bright smile she added, “With my beauty and his intelligence, we will go far.”
“Who do you have in mind to play this brilliant, yet reluctant Romeo?”
“I am not going to tell you now, lest you think me foolish.”