Affectations of Candour (Mr Darcy’s Dilemmas #3)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
With one of its four horses ridden by a swarthy postilion, the canary-yellow post-chaise continued in a south-westerly direction, bound for the Somerset coast. Already the passengers had travelled from Hertfordshire to Berkshire and were to spend the night in Reading.
On the morrow they would proceed into Wiltshire, to an inn in the town of Devizes.
The chaise’s relatively easy journey along turnpike roads would end in the village of Wyman’s Cove, where Mr Baker’s waiting carriage would convey them along a rougher track leading to Cliff House, their destination.
Peering through the window, Elizabeth Bennet silently admired the golden glow that had settled across the unfamiliar countryside of the Thames Valley.
Soft sunlight cast long shadows over verdant meadows and touched upon fields of spring barley.
It sparkled like diamonds on water as the post-chaise passed over the River Kennet via the High Bridge.
On the far side of the bench seat, Miss Bridget Hughes slept, head nodding and sombre black crepe rustling as carriage wheels bumped in and out of a rut.
In deference to the girl’s state of mourning, Elizabeth wore a mauve gown instead of her customary deep rose, lemon yellow, or other warm colour.
Upon her lap sat a straw bonnet with ribbons matching her spencer.
Lashed to a cart that had gone on ahead with all of Miss Hughes’s worldly possessions, Elizabeth’s largest trunk contained a variety of summer apparel.
Between the two young ladies sat Miss Taylor, a middle-aged lady’s maid with a black ribbon fastened to her cap.
She had begun her position with the Hugheses as a nursery maid to the twins.
Although promoted to Miss Hughes’s lady’s maid, she was treated more like a companion than a domestic.
For the summer, she also would assist Elizabeth with her toilette.
The fresh horses that had set off from the last stage with high, springy steps were showing signs of fatigue after ten miles, most of that at a smart trot.
They were not the only creatures craving rest and refreshment.
As though it might urge the bays into a faster gait, Elizabeth leant forwards and soon spotted a sign indicating The George, the coaching inn that would be their first overnight stop on their journey to the coast.
With an elbow to the girl’s side, the maid roused her young mistress from a fitful nap.
“Are we there yet?” Sitting up straighter, Miss Hughes rubbed her blue-grey eyes and looked through the glass.
“Oh, good! I long for a cup of tea, a hearty meal, and a decent night’s slumber.
Peaceful repose has escaped me for such a duration that I can scarcely remember how it actually feels.
It seems I have been walking about in a stupor for months. ”
Reaching for the girl’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, Elizabeth spoke with sincere sympathy. “Such heaviness of heart will somewhat abate with time, I am told. Some semblance of tranquillity will be restored once you are settled in Wyman’s Cove.”
“I very much doubt that.”
The Hughes family of Greenlea had been afflicted by an infection of putrid tendency that had spread throughout their region during winter and early spring.
At fifteen years of age, Miss Hughes and her twin brother had been orphaned, losing both beloved parents to the disease.
Taken from school and residing at Greenlea with a team of advisers and tutors, Jasper Hughes was to continue his studies and learn about becoming master of the estate upon reaching his majority.
As stipulated in her father’s will, Miss Hughes was to reside with her guardian, a bachelor uncle who lived with his spinster sister in Cliff House at Wyman’s Cove.
She had met them only the once, twelve years earlier when the Bakers were in their mid-twenties and she but three years of age, not that she could remember much of that visit.
“What I do recall with clarity,” Miss Hughes had told Elizabeth, “is being picked up, kicking and screaming, by my aunt Baker, whose arm I bit in a successful bid to be set back upon my own two feet. She and my uncle had contracted smallpox when their family lived in Bath, and I was frightened by their pockmarked faces. Do not fret, though. I shall never bite the hand that feeds me. I shall be utterly dependent upon Mama’s brother and sister. ”
With Miss Hughes’s tremulous smile being indicative of great unease, Elizabeth felt for her exceedingly and admired how diligently the orphan strived to be brave about her predicament.
Although somewhat puerile, the girl was neither as spoilt, as reckless, nor as self-centred as her dear friend Lydia.
“That furrowed brow tells me you are wool-gathering again, Miss Bennet. I hope you are not worrying about me. I remain grief-stricken over the loss of Mama and Papa, but I am adaptable.” In an obvious attempt to avoid Elizabeth’s scrutiny, Miss Hughes craned her neck and seemed unduly interested in the goings-on at the corner of King and Minster Streets.
While discreetly dabbing at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief, she spoke in a quavering voice.
“How difficult can it be to adjust to a drastic change of scenery and life with unfamiliar relations?”
Not for the first time, Elizabeth tried to imagine losing one’s family members and subsequently being sent away from one’s home.
It was simply unthinkable. Although at times her mother and younger sisters tried her patience and caused her no little mortification, she dearly loved them, warts and all.
“You are adaptable, indeed, Miss Hughes. And remember, you are not alone. You have an aunt and uncle who obviously care deeply about your welfare. You have Miss Taylor, and you have me until the end of August.”
“Your presence is a great comfort, and I am so very thankful you are here with me.” Miss Hughes’s eyes filled with tears again. “I shall be eternally beholden to you.”
Wishing she could alleviate the girl’s pain, Elizabeth forced a smile.
“That grin is not convincing. Please tell me that the intrepid Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not suffering from homesickness already. You promised to remain with me until September’s onset.”
“No, silly goose, I am not longing for Longbourn. And I shall not abandon you during your time of need—unless you grow weary of my company and wish me at Jericho.”
“No! Never would I wish you away. Were it not for my situation, I would be thrilled to visit the Somerset coast with you. Think of the adventures we might have had during such a summer sojourn. And still might. We shall walk along the shore, collect seashells, and perhaps even dip our toes into the Bristol Channel. My mother—” The younger girl’s voice broke. “My mother loved visiting the seaside.”
“I shall happily accompany you on whichever excursions you see fit to take.”
“Oh, Miss Bennet, one of the best days I ever had was last summer when our families went to St Albans together. Remember when those street performers singled us out, and we had to sing with them and try juggling? How we laughed ourselves giddy! You and your sisters are such fun. Well, Miss Mary is not as jolly. But your eldest sister is nice, and I wish she were not so heartbroken.” In a habit she shared with Lydia, Miss Hughes tended to blurt out whatever was on her mind.
Elizabeth smiled in reminiscence. “Your parents were exceedingly happy that day, too, as I recall. I remember them dancing a reel and laughing together while a fiddler and piper played Paddy O’Rafferty.” She was pleased when a dimple appeared on Miss Hughes’s delicately fair face.
The carriage stopped near the busy coaching inn while several equipages ahead of them unloaded passengers and baggage.
Amidst the hubbub, her young friend had once again grown solemn.
“I cannot dance or attend neighbourhood festivities just yet, of course, but that must not stop you from doing so, if you wish. And you must promise to tell me every little detail about such happy events.” Her voice broke again.
“I shall be terribly homesick for Hertfordshire and shall miss my family and all my friends.”
“Your brother and your friends promised to correspond with you on a regular basis, and, of all my family, I know Jane will faithfully write to me. I wager there will already be a letter from Hertfordshire awaiting you at Wyman’s Cove.”
“I thank God that your family was spared from the horrid contagion and that Miss Maria Lucas and her father made such swift recoveries.”
Sir William Lucas and his second eldest daughter had caught the same malady as the Hughes family, probably during February’s assembly in Meryton.
Both had pulled through quickly but had cancelled their planned trip to Hunsford in early March to visit Charlotte, on which Elizabeth had been set to accompany them.
Elizabeth still did not entirely understand why she had been chosen to accompany Miss Hughes to her new home and remain there until September.
It was Maria Lucas, Kitty, and Lydia who were her fast friends.
In any event, she thought that whoever had eliminated those three as responsible companions certainly had a good head upon their shoulders.
Their request for her company was probably because the Hugheses held Elizabeth in particular esteem after she rescued one of their gun dogs. While chasing a rabbit, the silly creature had fallen into the canal and had to be fished out.