Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
T hree days before Lady Amesbury’s ball, an enormous carriage and four bearing the Carlisle crest pulled up to Bourne House shortly before noon. Ashley Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Carlisle stepped down and handed out his wife Arabella, followed by their three young sons. Lady Catherine was relieved indeed to see her eldest nephew, and once his boys had been appropriately fussed over by the ladies, they were sent upstairs with their nurse and the housekeeper, to sort out the nursery.
“We apologise for not sending word ahead that we were coming, Aunt,” said Ashley easily, as he accepted a cup of tea from his aunt in her drawing room just after being introduced to all of the other guests of the house. “We travelled in such haste that it might have only arrived mere hours before us. We have been practically sleeping and eating all of our meals in the carriage for days, the boys made quite an adventure of it.”
“Indeed, and they were so excited to be coming in haste to rescue their cousin Darcy, that we shall be obliged to assign a footman to each of them, otherwise they shall all run off and get themselves into trouble,” observed his wife. “Keeping them from rocking the carriage off of its wheels was an education, I assure you.”
“They are good boys, Arabella. The finest crop of Fitzwilliams yet,” Lady Catherine assured her nephew’s wife. “I hope you are prodigiously proud of those boys, Carlisle.”
“Oh, prodigiously!” agreed her nephew. “But enough of the boys. We come on behalf of my father and mother, to do what we can to help find my cousin. Father will not be permitted in a carriage for another fortnight, or so I am told. Such a terrible break, his leg. I have never seen one so messy that did not need to be amputated. He is fortunate that he believes in young doctors, not old ones, that is all I can say. It shall be Mr Harrison or none for me, if I am ever to be injured.”
“Lord Matlock was certainly fortunate that he has a strong constitution,” said Arabella. “The recovery he endured would have aged most men a decade or more. He did not stop his work or his correspondence with the Prince Regent for even a day, despite his extreme discomfort.”
Lady Catherine took over the conversation, explaining all that had been done in the search for Darcy. The entire town had been searched for miles, twice, two lakes had been dredged, and unfortunately, the townspeople were running out of ideas and motivation to keep looking. Only Lady Catherine’s cajoling had kept the search going. “It is well that you are here, Nephew, for you can assist me in convincing the local gentlemen to keep the search moving,” finished Lady Catherine. “I shall send a note to Lady Amesbury, and have her send you an invitation to her ball. You will meet everyone there.”
“You cannot mean to attend the ball with Darcy still missing, can you? I thought the household would abstain from such entertainment,” said Mr Bingley in surprise.
“In a better world, Mr Bingley, I would sit at home and wave my handkerchief in the air, calling for my salts while the men in charge of this town did all that they ought,” Lady Catherine replied. “But sadly, in the world we actually inhabit, I am obliged to go to a ball when I would rather be worrying about my nephew, because I will not let them set Darcy aside, even for a night of frivolity. They can dance. But I will attend, and everyone in this house will attend, and make them look at us. Make them think about poor Darcy. We will all attend the ball, every single one of us, even the girls, and while we are there, we will be persuading every local, every visitor to Eastbourne, every officer of the militia, to go back out in search of Darcy with renewed vigour the next morning!”
“Hear, hear!” Bingley stood, clapping. “I second the notion. We shall not let them forget about Darcy! We will remind them all night that there are important matters to return to when the dancing has ended! You will stand up for the big three with me, Jane? The first, and the supper, and the last?”
Jane agreed, eyes shining, as Bingley turned to Elizabeth. “And you, Miss Elizabeth, may I be so bold as to ask for the second?”
“I do not wish to spoil anyone’s fun, but I will not dance,” said Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine’s impulse is a good one, and I will attend without complaint in the hopes that we shall remind everyone that our friend is still missing. The rest of you should dance, and mingle, and talk to as many as you can about it. But I hope you will all forgive me if I do not much feel like dancing.”
Lady Catherine insisted that every member of the household must attend, even Georgiana and Lydia, though they would not dance either, even with each other. Elizabeth promised that they would spend much of their evening together with Miss Annesley.
As Mr Bingley and Lord Carlisle secured dances with the ladies of the house, Mary looked over at her betrothed wistfully. He had barely spoken to her since she began her lessons with the comte . Would he not ask her to dance? Did he already take for granted that certain dances were his, before they even wed? What was she to say if another gentleman asked her? After several moments of watching William, who avoided her gaze, she rose from her chair and quietly fled the room.
It was an exceedingly eventful day. Once the Carlisles and their children were settled in, Anne and Priscilla took one of their afternoon rides. Two armed grooms from Lady Catherine’s stable accompanied them, following at a distance. Anne and Priscilla rode out into the countryside for a short drive before heading into the market town. The ladies visited the library and the general store, leaving the phaeton in front of the first establishment under the watch of the grooms
While the ladies were in the library, a few local men invited the grooms into the alley to play dice. Samuel was not particularly tempted, he saved most of his earnings, but Colin thought that if he could win a little money, that perhaps he could purchase his sweetheart a red shawl she had been eyeing at the haberdasher’s when they returned to Kent. After a few long minutes, hearing loud cheers coming from the men in the alley, curiosity got the better of Samuel, and he went into the alley to see who was winning.
Emma Woodhouse was at the confectioner’s, waiting for her father, who had left her for a few moments to go next door and speak to the mayor about the reputation of a new doctor for her. He had left her in the company of Mr Elton, who was at the counter, speaking to the proprietor about everything and nothing, as Emma enjoyed a cup of tea and a dish of marzipan.
She stared out the window in boredom. She had been excited to come to Eastbourne, happy to go anywhere or do anything, but sitting still and being ill all the time excluded her from most of the activities the other young ladies enjoyed. She had considered suggesting a physician in town to her father, but she suspected that in London, she would be more confined to the house. Perhaps she ought to suggest Bath. Her father would probably consider Bath, and there would be a great deal more society there. Her father would not have her sister and brother in law for society in Bath. He would have to go out and talk to people.
As she gazed out the window of the very busy establishment, Emma observed Anne and Priscilla exit the door of the library, and continue to the shop, which was at the end of the market street, where there were fewer people about. Just before the two ladies reached the shop, a hired carriage pulled up alongside them. Suddenly, Lord Lennox and Sir Albert Swinton stepped out of the carriage, and faster than one could have possibly imagined, forced Lady Priscilla and Anne de Bourgh inside, stepping in after them. The carriage quickly sped away, the driver whipping the horses with great energy. Emma looked up and down the street through the window, waiting for someone to notice the incident and do something, but the few people near that end of the street seemed to notice nothing.
Emma jumped out of her seat and rushed out of the shop. She ran into the street, shouting, “Help! Kidnap! Kidnap! Help!” As she reached the pavement, there were a few people looking over at her curiously. Having left Mr Elton behind at the confectioner’s counter, oblivious to his companion’s exit, Emma rushed to Anne’s phaeton, which she had watched the ladies leave not a half hour ago, and with a loud, “Ha!” sprung the horses into a gallop, and followed the carriage at great speed.
The men in the alley noticed nothing, so loud was their raucous noise, until Mrs McKenzie’s manservant, Simon, called out to them from the street, “Wasn’t you two supposed to be watchin’ yer mistress’s phaeton? Miss Woodhouse jus’ up an’ stole it.”
Samuel and Colin jumped up, Colin pocketing his winnings, and rushed into the street, alarmed to find the phaeton missing. Simon pointed the direction in which Miss Woodhouse had gone, as Samuel and Colin leapt onto their horses and gave chase.
After following the road for perhaps a half mile, Emma spotted the carriage far ahead of her, heading north. After several minutes, Samuel and Colin rode up alongside her, their horses at a full gallop.
“Kidnap! Kidnap!” Emma shouted to them, pointing to the carriage far ahead. Understanding her meaning, Samuel and Colin increased their speed and took off after the hired carriage in alarm. Emma followed, determined to see her friend Lady Priscilla and her cousin safely rescued.
Mr Woodhouse returned to the confectioner’s, where Mr Elton was still having a nonsensical conversation with the proprietor and his wife about marzipan sculptures. Woodhouse was puzzled to find his daughter missing from the establishment, her tea and marzipan where he had left them but his daughter was not where he had left her . He interrupted Mr Elton’s conversation, resulting in that man’s confusion at Emma’s disappearance. They went outside, where Mrs McKenzie’s servant Simon was only too happy to inform them that Miss Woodhouse had stolen Miss de Bourgh’s phaeton, and was being chased by Miss de Bourgh’s grooms.
Back on the road, the carriage and grooms left Emma’s sight after another few minutes when they went around a wide curve. Emma could not recall having travelled this way with her father since coming to Eastbourne. Not knowing what was beyond the curve, Emma slowed. She was unused to driving a phaeton, though she occasionally drove their little trap in Highbury. She would not like to tip Miss de Bourgh’s equipage.
Beyond the curve she pulled up sharply to utter chaos. A tree had fallen across the road a short distance beyond the turn, the carriage, not having slowed as Miss Woodhouse did, had crashed into it and overturned. The horses were screaming, and the driver was dead, his head cocked at an unnatural angle. Samuel and Colin were both armed, and before Emma could even step down from the phaeton, they had dismounted and approached the beasts, the men’s arms were stretched out before them, they turned their eyes away, and two shots rang out, as the poor horses were put out of their misery.
At the sound of the shots, Miss de Bourgh began screaming in panic from inside the carriage. Emma could not blame her, the poor ladies must be terrified. She rushed to the overturned carriage, and climbed up on its side before the two men had even begun to recover from the shock and distress of having to shoot the horses.
Emma wrenched the door of the carriage open, and immediately was struck in the face by a tree branch that had forced its way into the window on the other side of the carriage as it overturned. Miss de Bourgh was still screaming.
“Miss de Bourgh! Miss de Bourgh, are you hurt?” Emma shouted. “Let me help you out!”
Anne’s hand shot up and grasped Emma’s, and with Emma’s help, the lady pulled herself up and out of the door. She was still in a panic, breathing heavily, and Emma thought it was a wonder she had not swooned.
“Lady Priscilla, are you well?” Emma cried as Anne was helped down by the grooms. It was difficult to see around the tree branch and all of the leaves.
“I am alr-” Priscilla was cut off by Lord Lennox.
“Move damn you! Out of my way, I said move, I must get out!” the man shouted, as he pulled himself up and out of the door, shoving Emma as he did so.
“Well!” Emma exclaimed, kicking the man in the behind with her slippered foot as he attempted to climb down. He fell off of the carriage, and was quickly set upon by Lady Catherine’s grooms who commenced to give him a sound beating. Emma turned back and reached out her arm for Priscilla, and as she pulled the lady out, Emma saw what had upset the occupants of the carriage.
Emma would have thought that the experience itself might have been enough to distress anyone, but when she saw the state of Sir Albert, she understood Anne’s screams. Sir Albert was impaled through the chest by a broken tree branch just slightly thicker than Emma’s wrist. The man was still breathing, though unconscious. Emma had never seen such a terrifying sight in all of her life.
“Emma?” she heard her father’s voice from behind her. She turned and found her father standing behind her with Mr Elton and a few other men from the village, one of whom was running for the doctor and more help. “Are you quite well?” her father asked.
“Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you do look quite well!” exclaimed Priscilla as Mr Woodhouse helped Emma down from the carriage. “How fortunate for my cousin and I that you seem to have quite recovered your strength! Come and sit here with me and Anne, you must feel quite faint now.”
Priscilla began to fan Emma and Anne in turn, as the men gathered round the carriage and discussed how to get Sir Albert out. Eventually, the doctor arrived, confirmed what they all knew. Sir Albert was not going to survive. Rather than make his last moments any more torturous than necessary, he was given a lethal dose of laudanum, and the men settled in to wait until he expired before they attempted to move him.
Mr Woodhouse herded the ladies into his carriage and returned Anne and Priscilla to Bourne House, with Samuel and Colin leading Anne’s horses and phaeton behind. Lady Catherine was in such a rage that she abandoned the party and went immediately to the stables with Torrens and fired the two grooms on the spot. Then she returned to the house and once she had heard all, embraced Miss Woodhouse in thanks, and herded Anne and Priscilla upstairs for large tumblers of brandy, baths, and to be put into their beds to recover their nerves.
Emma Woodhouse was quiet all the way back to their rented house. When they arrived, Mr Elton excused himself and took himself upstairs to his guest room, but Emma’s father called her to the study. She seated herself on a sofa on the side of the room as he poured her a large brandy and handed it to her. She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose.
“It will help your nerves, dear,” her father said as he took a seat near her on the sofa as she took a large gulp and sputtered. Mr Woodhouse waited patiently as she consumed the brandy, and as the heat of the spirits spread through her, he looked at her speculatively.
“Well, Emma?” he asked.
“Well what?” she said irritably.
“You know what, my dear,” he said gently. “I am not angry with you. I would only like you to explain.”
“It helped you,” she whispered. When he asked her to repeat herself, she shouted, “It helped you! Me, being ill! You cooped yourself up at home, afraid of everything for years , but when I became ill, it brought you back! You were so determined to see me well again, and when I became well…”
“You were afraid that I would return to my armchair and my blankets and my fears,” her father finished.
“Yes,” whispered Emma. “So I became ill again, for you. When you began to speak of going away to find a physician, I thought that even feigning illness and being unable to do anything fun was better than nothing, as long as we went somewhere and did something . I thought that perhaps if we travelled, you might enjoy meeting people and doing things again.”
“You were right,” her father said. “You were entirely right. I have enjoyed going out and seeing people again. It has been unfair of me, keeping you in Highbury, with no one but the same few spinsters for company. You ought to be married. You ought to dance .”
“I do not mind, not really,” said Emma tearfully. “It was only that you came alive again in a way I had not seen since I was a small girl; I was afraid that it would not last. I will return to Highbury gladly, if only you will be your old self again, always.”
“The comte ,” her father said distractedly. When she raised a brow, he continued. “He said that you suffered on behalf of another. When they were well, so would you be. What an insightful man.” He took her hands. “I am well, Emma. Now so must you be. We will go to the ball on Tuesday – may I have the honour of your first dance?”