Chapter 13 Desperate Times #2
Trying her best to be quiet, she started in the dead of the night, around one o’clock.
It took all of twenty minutes to remove the pins, and then the door came off its hinges with a small thunk, so she could just slide it open.
She saw the rope tied around the handle and briefly considered using the leverage of the door to break the handle just to be vindictive but abandoned the idea.
She just as quickly abandoned the idea of tying her father into his room in revenge, and instead just went about her business.
This time she did not take a valise, as this operation would succeed or fail in a matter of days, and more clothing would be no benefit, since she had no money for lodging either.
In her stockinged feet, carrying her best outdoor boots, she crept down the stairs, to the ground floor, then down into the kitchen, and continued all the way to the storeroom, listening intently and moving carefully every step of the way.
The pickings were slim. None of the meat was cooked, and Mrs Hill kept sausages and the like in a locked cupboard, ever since a groom was caught pilfering it a few years earlier.
Elizabeth got a bag with a dozen apples, a few onions, a bit of bread and sausage, and a water bladder. With that secured, she took her father’s biggest and best winter coat and left through the servant’s entrance.
Four days later, Elizabeth was tired and dirty, but not as bad as she expected.
Nobody she had ever heard of would even conceive of doing what she had done.
She had been told by a reasonable authority that it was nearly impossible to get into London by coach or horseback without being seen, but Mr Baker never mentioned walking.
She knew the journey to Cheapside was twenty-four miles. At three miles per hour, simple arithmetic said it would be eight hours if she took the same route as the coach, did not stop or pause, and could maintain a reasonable pace.
Nobody in their right mind would walk that far, so she did not expect anybody to be specifically looking for her. Nevertheless, it seemed sensible to walk slowly and carefully, only in the dead of night, and hide herself away during the day.
She took a stout walking stick which, by a great coincidence, could easily pass as an exact replica of her father’s, just in case she met any dogs like the first trip. She also assumed it might be handy if she met any inebriated men, but fortunately, neither theory was put to the test.
She slept for a few hours during the day, sometimes in sight of the carriageway, but mostly in barns.
Having grown up on a farm, she knew they all had a few hidden places.
As long as they did not have noisy dogs, it was easy enough to find them.
She saw what looked like they might be men searching for her once or twice, but no more.
She arrived in London in plenty of time, then worked her way to her target. She would only get one chance to make her approach, and since her food was down to just the onions, she was not set to make a good first impression, but she had to try.
At last, three hours after she entered her blind, she saw her quarry leaving his house and rose to intercept him. She had been reflecting that her entire life might hinge on the next quarter hour. If she could make her case adequately, she might have some options, and if not—
She was walking quickly, almost within hailing distance of her quarry, when she felt an arm go around her waist and lift her off her feet.
She started to scream, but found a gloved hand clapped over her mouth.
She kicked and tried to get loose, even managing to land a good solid blow with her boot-heel to the top of the miscreant’s foot, which made him utter an entire string of words she had never heard before, but his grip did not slacken, and she was gradually carried backwards.
She heard the man shout in a very rough, lower-class accent. “No daughter of mine is going to—” while still dragging her back.
He kept dragging her back, and a moment later they crossed a hedge, and went around out of sight of her quarry.
She then heard the words she was half-expecting, but not in the lower-class accent.
“Another valiant effort, Miss Bennet. Had you made your approach yesterday or tomorrow, I would have missed you. I was just playing a hunch. I bow to your skills, ma’am. You could be very good at this game with just a bit more practise.”
She sagged in defeat. “Mr Baker.”
“At your service, ma’am.”
“If you wish to be at my service you can let me go, or better yet, help me meet that gentleman over there. A quarter-hour conversation might resolve all of life’s difficulties.”
Baker laughed. “I meant the figurative type of at your service, not the literal. If I start negotiating with my clients, what will happen to my reputation?”
“I expected as much,” she replied bitterly. “I do not have any money this time, so I suppose a bribe is out of the question. I do have one onion left, if that will help.”
“I suppose since I won this round, the least I can do is buy you a hot meal,” Baker said nonchalantly. It was easy to be magnanimous in victory.
“As you will,” she replied resignedly.
“You seem comfortable in places ladies usually do not frequent. If you trust me, I can get you an excellent meal with no questions asked.”
Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow. “No maid this time?”
“I fear your friend must await you in Derbyshire. I did call in a favour to secure her a position at Pemberley if that helps. She will be the lowest of the low, the newest scullery maid in the house, but it is something.”
Elizabeth grumbled but allowed the man to take her arm and direct her to an establishment that was absolutely-definitely-not the type of place a lady usually frequented—or at least her definition of lady—but the meal was excellent, the accommodations were… colourful… and she made no complaint.
As they left the establishment, Baker said, “Your presence is urgently required at Longbourn, so we will make speed. This time, it will just be you and me in the carriage.”
Elizabeth snorted. “Once you manhandled me behind a bush in Hyde Park, it seems like riding in a carriage with you will do no harm.”
“Nobody will ever know.”
Elizabeth just shrugged, feeling like her reputation was the least of her concerns. It had not been all that good to start with.
When they finished the meal, they climbed into his carriage and were off. They would arrive well before supper, and Elizabeth was fresh out of ideas for how to make another attempt.
“You almost pulled it off, Miss Bennet. I thought you would be making for Darcy House. Did you know you were only a few hundred yards away?”
“I have seen all I wish of Mr Darcy, and then some. No, I was at the right house.”
Baker asked the obvious. “How did you think the Earl of Matlock could help you?”
“I thought to let him know that I did not entrap his nephew, and I could be quite accommodating to some alternative solution. I imagine Mr Darcy is working under the assumption that I will make a fuss if the marriage does not happen; but as it turns out, I can be astonishingly reasonable.”
“What type of alternative were you thinking?” Baker asked in surprise.
“That I do not know. I just thought that if he were aware I was willing and able to entertain a different idea, he might be able to do something. He is an Earl, after all. When young girls actually get in trouble, they are often sent away. I could be sent away to live somewhere else where I could marry someone who is not Mr Darcy. Perhaps he knows someone who would want to marry me, or at least I could wed someone who was not ready to murder me in my sleep.”
“It was a clever idea, but I do not believe any of those would do. The Earl’s house is, shall we say, not quite in order.
I very strongly suspect he knows all about Darcy’s trouble, and is complicit in the solution, because it helps him with his own family’s problems, which I understand to be extensive.
I suppose if you were willing to become his mistress, he might go along, but I do not suppose that idea has much appeal.
It would not be a forever obligation, but it would not solve the problem of your reputation. ”
Elizabeth shivered at the idea. “No, I think not. I suppose I will just have to marry the muttonhead.”
“I suppose so, Miss Bennet. I suppose so.”
Feeling exhausted, and expecting a horrible reunion at Longbourn, Elizabeth did her best to get an hour or two of sleep. She was at that point completely out of ideas, and for the first time, really contemplated that the dreaded event was inevitable.