Runaway Bride

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘That is nothing to the purpose, ma’am,’ she said now. ‘For I am persuaded that Lady Laverstoke in her most understandable mother’s enthusiasm has quite mistaken the matter. Charles may be in love with Pamela—it is natural enough—he is at the age for such infatuations; boyish fancies that will soon be forgotten. But as for Pamela, she, if I mistake not (and I seldom do) is looking in quite another direction. Have you not noticed, ma’am,’ caution thrown to the winds, she turned to her mother, ‘how her eyes follow dear Mainwaring about the room, and how he has begun to address himself to her? His bringing her home the other night was such a signal attention: why, it put her into quite a flutter. And what could be more suitable? With her beauty and his brains...’

  But the Duchess had gone off into a paroxysm of silent laughter, while Lady Laverstoke who had been fidgeting agitatedly with her vinaigrette throughout this unguarded speech, now burst out: ‘Pamela marry Mainwaring? Fiddle-stick! Why, he is old enough to be her father and wise enough to fly after higher game. I had not intended to mention the matter; for indeed it is a most delicate subject; but in fairness to everyone; since such false hopes seem to have been raised; I think it only right to tell you that I am confident Mainwaring only waits till Charles is settled in life before he pays his addresses to me, and I...I...’ She let a delicate blush finish the sentence for her.

  ‘You are a couple of idiots,’ said the Duchess roundly. ‘I never heard such a parcel of nonsense in my life. Are you not aware that George is betrothed to a young lady in Sussex?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Lady Laverstoke sweetly, ‘his sense of duty, you know, but his heart is not in it. You will see: he will cry off.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ chimed in Lady Beresford, ‘it has been clear enough from the start that that affair would come to nothing. But as for these delusions of yours, Lavinia, I tell you you are out of your mind.’

  Lady Laverstoke’s coy blush had deepened into one of anger. ‘You are pleased to laugh at me, Lady Beresford. I tell you; you will regret this.’

  But it was the Duchess who was laughing. ‘My poor dear creatures,’ she said, controlling herself with difficulty. ‘I do not know when I have been so entertained. I find myself vastly indebted to you both, for indeed I was in the dumps and, to deal plainly with you, this loss of Miss Fairbank has left me thoroughly blue-devilled.’

  ‘Loss of Miss Fairbank?’ Lady Laverstoke looked her surprise.

  ‘Ah, you have not heard yet? You do not, I collect, acquire information quite so fast as my dear Jane here. Yes, Miss Fairbank has left me. She is gone back to her family to make, she tells me, the highly suitable match she disliked so much in the first place. But that is not, I should warn you both, at all what I expect to have happened. Since you have both been so mightily indiscreet, I think I will blab a little too, to keep you in countenance. George is back in town. You knew,’ (to Lady Beresford) ‘you did not’ (to Lady Laverstoke). ‘But neither of you knows why he is come. You were right on one point: that country miss of his has given him the slip at last: I am persuaded she will have none of him in the end and that he will be vastly relieved (if either of you breathes a word of this outside this room you will have me to reckon with). So far, indeed you have understood aright: that match will come to nothing. But do you seriously think he will throw away his freedom on your ripe charms’ (to Lady Laverstoke) ‘or Pamela’s raw ones’ (to Lady Beresford). Surely if you have eyes in your heads, you must have seen that he has eyes for no one but Miss Fairbank? If he finds her before she marries, he’ll have her. If not—I pity her husband. There: now you know where you stand. If you will be ruled by me, you will forget all that has passed in this room today and clap hands on a bargain over Charles and Pamela. An excellent, dull match. Now, I am tired. Will you ring, Jane?’

  The two ladies took the hint (if such it could be called) and withdrew in mutual and silent fury, to their carriages. At home, Lady Beresford sent for Pamela, gave her the worst half-hour of her life and finally bowed to the inevitable. She was fool enough to throw away all her chances and love Charles Laverstoke: very well, she was doubtless fit for nothing better: she might as well have him. As for Lady Laverstoke, her recovery was still quicker. In her carriage she remembered Mainwaring’s bad temper; half-way down Brook Street it occurred to her that he would very likely be mean about pin-money, and in the park she caught sight of an old gallant of hers whose existence she had forgotten. By the time she got home, she had a new love and a new hope.

  CHAPTER XV

  Arriving in Holborn, Jennifer was surprised at the size and appearance of Aunt Foster’s house, and delighted with Aunt Foster herself who hurried downstairs to greet her with such unaffected warmth and kindness that she felt she, too, might be her niece.

  ‘My dear Miss Purchas,’ said Aunt Foster, taking her warmly by the hand, ‘this is an unexpected pleasure. My poor Lizzy will be overjoyed to see you, for there is no concealing that she has been sadly down in the dumps since she came to me. She’s as good a girl as ever drew breath, and this defying of her father sits very ill with her. I cannot conceive of what her mother was about to let the poor child be forced into so disagreeable a position: but then poor Maria was ever shatter-brained and too terrified of my brother to cross him in anything. But come you up, my dear Miss Purchas, for I know my poor lamb is all agog to see you. And to tell truth, the sooner matters are settled between you all, the better I shall be pleased, for one of my brother Gurning’s tantrums is what I have no desire in the world to encounter. And as for you, Edmund, I thought you were to be off at once and procure that special licence you spoke of, for though I cannot at all approve of so desperate a proceeding, yet I do not see how else you are to contrive, for have my poor Lizzy here beyond today I dare not.’ This sentence brought her to the head of the second pair of stairs, and, with a parenthetical apology for bringing Jennifer up so high, she flung open a door and continued: ‘But I doubt my poor Lizzy will be pleased enough to see you, Edmund, just the same, and it will be a regular tonic for her to see Miss Purchas, for cast off by her family is what she has been expecting to be, and in tears about it the whole morning long, the poor innocent. But what am I thinking for to be keeping you tittle-tattling here, Miss Purchas? Come you in and give the poor child a good kiss and tell her all is forgiven, for I tell you she has been in such a pother at the thought of having lent herself to anything so wicked as impersonating you, that I can tell you there has been no doing anything with her. There, Lizzy, see who has come to kiss and be friends!’

  Elizabeth, who had been drooped upon a sofa, jumped up and ran to Jennifer. ‘Oh, Jenny, is it really you and do you truly forgive me? Indeed, indeed, I never meant to harm you, and have felt so wicked ever since, I cannot bear even to think of it. I thought I would go distracted for very joy when Edmund came last night and said he had met you and told you all and you were not angry, for, indeed, Jenny, I would not blame you if you never spoke to me again, only I tell you I could not bear it and would very likely die of grief.’

  Jennifer gave her a kiss and a bracing pat on the back, very much as if she had been a child with hiccups. ‘No, no, Lizzy, I beg of you do not start to cry again: I can forgive anything in the world but that, and your eyes are quite red enough already. Besides, there is nothing to be forgiven, for, to deal plainly with you, I find myself much beholden to you. Do you not see that by falling in with his plan to marry you in my stead, you have delivered my uncle into my hands? It is but to threaten exposure, and he cannot help but do what I demand. I shall be my own mistress at last, and you shall marry Edmund (if that is in truth your wish) at leisure in all the gauze and illusion your heart can desire.’

  Elizabeth’s tear-drowned eyes began to shine. ‘Oh, Jenny, what a wonderful girl you are! I knew all our troubles were over once Edmund had found you. Oh, how happy I am! Can I really have bride-clothes, and favours, and a honeymoon just like everybody else? Of course I do love Edmund dearly, dearly, but, Jenny, a girl only gets marri
ed once, and to do it in such a hustle-bustle, with no proper announcement, or wedding gifts or anything, and all in some hole and corner of a city church, when I had always meant to be married in Denton Chapel with bridesmaids, and primroses on the windowsills and mother in tears...Oh, Jenny, can I really have it all just as I planned it?’

  Jennifer patted her hand soothingly and darted a quick glance at Edmund to see how he was taking his prospective bride’s childish raptures. But he was gazing at her with fond enthusiasm: they would make an admirable pair. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘if you will just dry your eyes and compose yourself, Lizzy, and do exactly as I bid you, you shall have it all exactly so, if I have to give you away myself. But I have no doubt your father will be prepared to hear reason, by the time I have finished with him. But listen! Can this be he already?’

  For a violent knocking had sounded on the street door below and now sounds of altercation rose up the stairwell and in at the open door of the room. Mrs Foster, who had been a sympathetic observer of all that passed, stood as if turned to stone, Edmund went red and Elizabeth white. Jennifer eyed them all with wry amusement. They were not, she thought, a very promising set of allies. But—how odd it was—she herself had lost all her fear of her uncle’s blusterings. It seemed absurd now that she had ever let him impose upon her. At any rate, those days were done, as he would soon discover.

  An agitated maidservant appeared at the door. ‘Excuse me, ma’am, Mr Gurning is below and wishes to speak with you.’

  ‘Oh, my dears, what shall I do?’ wailed Aunt Foster. ‘I cannot, I positively cannot face him. I shall faint with fright, I know I shall.’

  ‘No need for that, ma’am,’ said Jennifer. ‘I will see Mr Gurning. He and I have much to discuss. Do you all wait here until I send for you. I promise you, by then, he will be in a more reasonable mood.’

  Elizabeth clasped her hands. ‘Oh, Jenny,’ she said, ‘you are superb. But would you not like Edmund to support you? He is a man, after all.’

  Edmund looked anything but grateful for this suggestion of his beloved’s and muttered something unconvincing about being always willing to oblige a lady, but, to his great relief, Jennifer cut him short.

  ‘No, no, I will go to him alone,’ she said. ‘Take me to him, pray.’

  The servant girl dropped a curtsy in tacit acknowledgement of her tone of command and led her to a small downstairs parlour where she found her Uncle Gurning angrily pacing up and down. He turned: ‘What, ma’am, is the meaning—’ He stopped. ‘Jennifer!’

  ‘Yes, Uncle. That will do, my dear.’

  The maid, who had paused in the doorway, unable to tear herself away from a scene the whole household had been betting on, curtsied reluctantly and withdrew. Jennifer advanced into the room and held out her hand to her uncle.

  ‘How do you do?’ she asked politely.

  It set him off, as she had expected it would. She waited patiently, eyebrows slightly raised, while his wrath erupted. At last, when she thought he had blown off the worst of it, having accused her, among other things, of debauching his daughter and deluding his ward, and having passed, in his description of her, from the language of the stables to that of the stews, she decided she had borne enough.

  ‘That will do, Uncle.’ He paused and stared at her, momentarily deflated by her calm, and she went on: ‘I have let you say your say and curse your fill, now I trust you are rational enough to listen to me for a change. You are entirely right in supposing that your daughter is in this house. No, you will hear me out before you go to her. Join her in your present mood and you will have her in hysterics, or worse. And, besides, I have something to say to you that cannot wait.’

  He looked at her in amazement. This was not the girl he had been used to bully into submission, down in Sussex. ‘Something to say to me indeed,’ he tried to bluster it out, ‘and so have I something to say to you, miss. Running away in the night, forsooth, like a hussy, like a trollop, like a...’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said, ‘you have said all that once already. But now we are come to my case against you, Uncle, which is quite another story. Because I was a child, I did not, as I should have, resist your high-handed taking over of my household and my affairs. Because I was a fool, I let you frighten me into running away, which, I grant you, was a mistake, though I still do not see,’ she added reflectively, ‘what else I could have done. But now, Uncle,’ she saw that he was again rising towards explosion point and thought it best to come quickly to the heart of the matter, ‘now, the case is altered. You have thought fit to compel your daughter to masquerade as me and accept a suitor in my stead. What do you think the world will say if that becomes known? Where then are your hopes of Parliament? A petty tyrant, a common trickster...And,’ she paused, ‘I wonder if you can face an accounting of my estate?’ His silence gave her her answer and she went on: ‘No, I do not believe you will wish your activities of these past few months to become known.’

  He burst once more into angry speech. ‘The jade! I might have known she would betray all. Let me but get my hands on her.’

  He started for the door of the room, but Jennifer was before him.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I have told you, Uncle, you do not see Elizabeth until you are in a fit state to meet her. There has been enough of this bullying. I collect that you have not fully comprehended your position. I can ruin you if I wish.’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘Yes, but not without ruining yourself at the same time. By my contriving, the world thinks that Miss Purchas has never left her home: accuse me and you shame yourself. I have not asked you, miss, where you have been all this time, but I apprehend that you would not relish the question.’

  ‘I certainly should not answer it,’ she replied coolly, ‘but that is in the main because I do not wish my friends troubled with your ill manners. But, I will be plain with you, there is something in what you say. And besides, dearly though I would love to bring you to book, I do not wish to embarrass my poor aunt any more than she already is by the mere fact of marriage with you. And, by the same token, I have a great fondness for my cousin Elizabeth. So, Uncle, I think you and I will have to make the best of the matter and be friends despite ourselves.’

  ‘Friends?’ he snorted angrily. ‘I’d as soon be friends with the pig-faced lady.’

  ‘Very well then.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I do not insist on friendship, for indeed it would go sadly against the grain with me too. But allies, I think, we shall have to be. Let us consider our position. You have, I collect, made free with a part of my fortune (let us hope not too large a one) and have attempted to marry off your daughter in my place. To add to your difficulties, Elizabeth is now run away from you, doing you know not what damage to her good name. Your case is not a happy one, but I think it admits of improvement, if you will be ruled by me. Elizabeth, to begin with, is deep in love with Edmund. Her marriage with him will take care of her good name and—again if they are not too great—I am prepared to write off your depredations on my fortune against her marriage portion. You cannot, I apprehend, have touched the principle of my money, nor sold any of my land. If you agree to Elizabeth’s marriage we will not look too closely at your inroads into my income. There remains then the matter of the engagement with Mr Ferris—no, do not interrupt me—which you have entered into apparently on my behalf and from which I collect you will find it sufficiently embarrassing to withdraw. Well; you need not. I have decided, for reasons with which I do not propose to trouble you, that I will go through with the match.’

  Now he did interrupt her. ‘You, Jennifer? But he has already been presented to Elizabeth and has wooed her in your stead.’

  ‘Yes, but not, I apprehend, altogether happily. It shall be your part in the business, and your penance, to see my wooer and explain to him, I care not by what glossing of the truth, that a substitution was made. I can rely on you, I think, in the circumstances, to take the utmost care of my good name...Apart from that, tell him what you like, so long as you te
ll him that the true heiress—and the fortune—are now at his disposal.’

  He looked at her in amazement. ‘But what a volte-face is this! You, who have gone to such lengths to escape him! Are you out of your senses?’

  ‘I think perhaps I have come to them at last. I begin to see that marriage is a more practical matter than I had thought. And Edmund tells me Ferris and I will deal admirably together: he is a bully, it seems, and I am a shrew. I shall suit him much better than poor Lizzy.’

  He looked at her with reluctant respect. ‘You have the right of it, Jenny, I do believe. I only wish you were my daughter: we should manage the world famously together, you and I. But as it is, I can see there is nothing for it. I will do my best to retrieve this wooer of yours, though it passes my imagination what story I am to tell.’

  ‘If you will be ruled by me, Uncle, you will tell as much of the truth as you can get your tongue round. It is not as if there had ever been any question of love in the matter: it is nothing more than a business arrangement; so long as the fortune is there, why should it matter whether Lizzy or I is the happy bride? Surely you have talked your way out of worse corners than this in your time? But you must hurry; Lizzy’s marriage must not be long delayed, and mine, I think, should precede it. So, if you will take my advice, you will go at once to find this suitor of mine. Does he know, by the way, of Lizzy’s running off? That might make matters more difficult for you.’

  His face darkened with anger. ‘Yes, your fool of an aunt let a servant blurt the whole business out in his presence and he is returned to London in a rage. It will not be easy to school him, Jenny.’ He was talking to her now, she noticed with amusement, almost as if she were a fellow conspirator.

  ‘Of course, it will not be easy, but I have the greatest confidence in your powers of persuasion. Best lose no time, however. It would sadly mar matters if he were to cry off publicly.’