Chapter Three #3
Elizabeth nodded, considering that she could not have taken a room at the inn after all, even if she had wanted to.
But she had never intended to do so—the colonel only wished her out of the way so that his officers could divest her family home of everything of value, and she was resolved that she would not allow it.
She would sooner take the pistol from her father’s desk and demand that Johnny Hill teach her how to use it.
Her attention was caught by the mention of Mr. Wickham, and Elizabeth began attending the conversation more closely. “But he’s so handsome,” Susan crooned, giving Elizabeth a broad grin as she sliced vegetables for the stew.
“Too handsome, if you ask me,” Mrs. Hawkins grumbled. “Too silver-tongued by half; from what I’ve heard, he’s already talked his way into places he had no business being.”
“I begin to think you’re right, Helen,” Mrs. Hill agreed, her wary gaze landing on Elizabeth for a moment.
“My late husband’s cousin Mabel works at Haye Park, and I saw her at the grocer’s not an hour ago, and she says that Mr. Wickham and one of the other officers were caught peeking through the window of the manor! Can you imagine anything so bold?”
Mrs. Hawkins frowned. “I had thought the Gouldings meant to visit relations in Tunbridge Wells until after the Twelfth Night.”
“And so they were meant to, but they have all of them taken ill,” Mrs. Hill tutted. “Apparently Mr. Wickham heard of the family’s illness, and thought to take advantage by paying a call on Miss Goulding, or at least catch a glimpse of her.”
Elizabeth sat rigid on the stool she had been offered in the corner, out of the way.
Had Mr. Wickham and his companion been about the same mischief as Harrington and Marveston?
She hated to think so ill of the man, but it seemed far more likely than his sudden fascination with Eleanor Goulding, who was plump and plain and nearly thirty.
Her hand drifted into her pocket, reaching for the letter the colonel had asked her to deliver to Mr. Wickham.
Surely it could not contain anything to do with the conspiracy she had discovered—surely the colonel was not so brazen as that!
And yet there had been a glimmer of challenge in his eyes as he had dispatched her; she could not reflect on her interview with him, without imagining an ominous veneer of malice over everything.
She knew she would have to tell Mrs. Hill about all that she had seen and heard, and what she suspected—but perhaps not until after the housekeeper had returned home from her gossip tour around the village. In the meantime, Elizabeth’s curiosity prevailed, and she withdrew the note from her pocket.
Mrs. Hawkins had just lifted the lid from the pot of stew to stir in the carrots Susan had sliced, and steam billowed across the kitchen.
Elizabeth took advantage of the other womens’ distraction and held the letter up where the steam was thickest, gently tugging at the wax seal until it loosened without breaking, and she was able to unfold the letter.
W,
As you can see, the bearer of this letter is not traveling north as expected, though M and H failed to detect her presence at L.
She claims her family will be returning this evening but this seems doubtful in such weather.
Convince the chit to take a room at the inn or pass the night elsewhere, and return with M and H this evening to ascertain if the family truly returned to L. Burn this immediately.
F
Elizabeth felt rage swelling within her as she read over the contemptible missive.
What could the colonel have meant by asking her to deliver this letter?
Did he mean to taunt her? Was he laughing over it even now, that he had made her complicit in the scheme against her home?
Was he so sure of his own ability to intimidate her that he had not imagined she possessed the temerity to defy him and read the letter herself?
Or was it meant to frighten her, to remind her that she was alone and defenseless, and that even if there were anyone whom she could apply to for aid, she had no real proof?
There was nothing explicitly incriminating written down; it would be her word against the colonel of the regiment, if she knew who else to petition for aid.
But there was nobody else who could help her.
She could not allow the Hills to put themselves in any danger, the local magistrate Sir William Lucas was away, and there had been no word from the messenger she had sent to catch up to her family on the road north.
Even the Gouldings would be unable to assist her, for they were all ill, and perhaps still a target themselves for mischief.
“Miss Lizzy, you are looking very unwell, my dear!” Mrs. Hill turned her attention from Mrs. Hawkins’ gossip to give Elizabeth a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“I am sure this beastly weather shall give you a horrid megrim, poor child! But here is the special tea Helen has made, and I have added extra sugar just as you like.”
Elizabeth sipped at the warm liquid that was thrust at her, and she smiled appreciatively at the two older women. “Thank you. I confess I do feel a bit dizzy.” And then she coughed, trying to conceal her reaction to the foul aftertaste of the medicinal tea.
Mrs. Hill tutted approvingly, while Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter went about their cooking.
“You ought to get home before the snow gets any heavier, dearest. I have a couple more calls to pay, and then the grocer’s boy Freddy is going to bring me home in his cart with all the provisions, and help me move Johnny—of course, I meant to ask—but might we use the rooms below stairs? ”
It had been many years since any of the servants at Longbourn had actually resided at the manor, as most of them were relations of the tenant farmers.
Elizabeth did not know the condition of the downstairs quarters, but she could see the merit of having the Hills in the house.
“Of course, I am sure it will be easier for you to tend to Johnny if he is at Longbourn.”
“Aye, I’m getting to be too old to be scampering back and forth from my cottage to the big house a dozen times a day,” Mrs. Hill laughed.
Elizabeth forced a smile, knowing she would have to warn Mrs. Hill of the danger.
Her hand balled into a fist at her side, crumpling the colonel’s note to Mr. Wickham.
She saw little point in ever delivering it, and stuffed the vile thing back into her pocket, her head fairly spinning from so much anger, panic, and frustration.
Why could she not think of some course of action?
Another wave of dizziness washed over her.
“Perhaps you had best not walk home by yourself, my dear girl,” Mrs. Hill said with a frown. “You look likely to faint away in the snow. Well, if you don’t mind waiting on me to fetch what we need from the grocers, you can ride back to Longbourn with me in Freddy’s cart.”
Elizabeth needed solitude to clear her mind, to contrive some sort of plan. “I shall not be too cold if I keep a brisk pace, and I am sure the walk will be refreshing.” Mrs. Hill eyed her dubiously, but gave a nod of approbation, and Elizabeth departed.
The Red Lion Inn was situated on the end of the main thoroughfare of the village, just before it curved around and connected to the road that led to London.
Longbourn was also situated to the south of Meryton, and Elizabeth set off in haste, relieved to leave the village behind her.
She glanced back over her shoulder, wary that she might be followed, but the bustle of the village carried on as if indifferent to her.
She shivered, pulled her cloak tighter around herself, and hurried on her way.
Elizabeth had scarcely gone a dozen steps before the despair of her situation brought on another spell of dizzying anxiety, and then everything faded to black.