Chapter Two #2
After several minutes of attempting to force the dratted thing in diagonally this way, then this way, then that way, then this way again as though the dimensions of the trunk might have changed, Michael threw it upon his bed. He’d have to carry it with him.
So, the pipe his grandfather had given him, the correspondence with Benjamin and Percy, his favorite cousins, he’d keep all that…the statuette of Peter from Rome that he’d bought on his Grand Tour, yes he’d take that with him…and shirts, blast, he’d need shirts…
All told, it took less than twenty minutes to pack up the trunk. When Michael closed the lid slowly with a loud thunk, it caused a ripple of disquiet to roar through him.
That was it. He’d packed. He truly was going to leave.
All he needed now was a ship.
“I’m popping out,” Michael said brightly to Mrs. Kinley as he descended the stairs and saw the servant walking past. “Will you do me a favor?”
The stout family housekeeper raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Mr. Michael?”
“There’s a trunk packed in my room. Have it made ready for travel, will you?” said Michael as lightly as he could manage. “And, uh…don’t mention it to my father.”
“The viscount?” Mrs. Kinley said in gentle surprise.
“Or my mother,” added Michael hastily.
“The viscountess?”
“Or my sisters.”
“The Misses—”
“Yes, I know who my sisters are, thank you,” Michael interrupted, his cheeks red as he glanced about him. No footmen, no housemaids to overhear… Well, they only had two of each, so that was hardly a surprise.
But it was vital, wasn’t it, that no one discovered his plan?
No one.
He’d been so anxious about keeping this big secret, he’d spent a few days in Bath just last week, claiming an ailment and missing out on his cousin Lucy’s wedding, something both her brother, Percy, and their cousin Benjamin had chided him for in letters his sisters had brought him back from Stanphrey Lacey.
Not to mention his parents, who had been remarkedly icy to him when they’d all come home yesterday.
But this morning, they were there usual selves, and it all seemed forgotten now.
“And where, exactly, would you like this secret packed trunk to be delivered, Mr. Michael?” asked the housekeeper curiously.
Where, indeed? All those details are to come, thought Michael with a rush of excitement, the sort he had not felt in… Well, you know, he wasn’t sure if he had ever felt it.
Was this what freedom felt like? Was this what it was to chart one’s own destiny, to decide for yourself who you would be, what you would be?
In mere hours, he would out on the high seas, off to a new life, to a New World…but in the here and now, Mrs. Kinley was observing him with curiosity and Michael realized he had been asked a question but not answered it.
“I’ll send word,” was all he could think to say, but thankfully, the housekeeper merely nodded.
“Yes, Mr. Michael,” she said quietly. “I hope you enjoy your journey.”
She doesn’t know, Michael reminded himself as he stepped across the hall to the drawing room door.
No one could know. He had been most secretive, most careful with plans.
He would send them a letter; he couldn’t face actually telling them again, and who knew?
Perhaps some of the family would visit him.
Even a small fraction of the family visiting whatever small set of rooms he found himself in would make for a comical sight.
When Michael opened the door, it was to see not only his mother in the drawing room, but the rest of the family.
“You’ll all here, then,” he said with a small smile.
“Now that those Burtons are gone, I can actually relax in the place again,” said his sister Gwen, her jaw jutted determinedly as she played a minuet on the pianoforte.
“I didn’t want to see them, either,” said Teddy quietly from behind a book behind which she had somehow managed to shrink, seated on the armchair that Mrs. Burton had so recently vacated.
Their mother smiled as she pulled the thread in her embroidery up in the air. “You cannot avoid people forever, girls. Now you are out in Society, with attractive dowries, to boot, thanks to your cousin Samuel—”
Michael could tell this was about to be a long lecture, mostly on the advantages of being in Society but also the responsibilities therein, and he quickly interjected, “I wanted to say goodbye.”
The words were heavy in his throat as unexpected emotion welled within him. One day, and that day was here and now, Michael would never see his family again. And he loved them; obviously, he loved them…but he wanted more.
More adventure. More horizons. More opportunities to make a life for himself, not merely inherit someone else’s.
And no one looked up.
“Bye,” said Teddy from the other side of her book.
“Dinner is at eight o’clock as usual,” his mother said over her embroidery. “Do try to send word if you’re bringing someone else. I don’t mind feeding the cousins.”
“It’s only the Aylesburys in Town at the moment,” said Viscount Pernrith, hair speckled now with gray as he gazed out of the window. “Though I suppose Benjamin might need feeding.”
“That boy could go from house to house and be fed and he’d still be hungry.” Michael’s mother laughed. “I never saw a lad with such a stomach!”
Michael’s twisted.
That… That was it? That was their goodbye?
Of course they did not know that he was saying goodbye forever…but still.
“Right. Well, goodbye,” he said again, leaning against the doorframe and holding back the emotion that he hadn’t expected. “I… I love you all.”
Michael did not receive the response he had expected.
Gwen snorted. “Right!”
His mother smiled fondly and said, “You too, dear.”
Teddy looked up, flushed, and returned to her book.
His father said nothing.
Michael sighed. “Right. Goodbye.”
I shouldn’t have expected anything else, he told himself steadfastly as he stepped out from the Pernrith Chances’ townhouse and strode along the street toward the London docks. They did not know they would not see his face again for years on end.
Mostly because he had not told them, but there it was.
It was right that this was a secret, Michael told himself confidently as he cut down an alleyway that was a shortcut from the docks an hour later.
A most disagreeable conversation it had been with the dockmaster—no ships leaving for anywhere distant for at least a fortnight, and he should return then. Most disagreeable, indeed.
Well, he’d just have to keep the secret from his family for a while longer. After all, if they knew he was immigrating, they’d only try to stop him. Then there would be tears and—
“Arghhh!”
Something solid rushed into his path and fell to the ground as paper scattered up into the sky.
Michael blinked. What the hell was that?
The darkness of the alleyway had made it almost impossible to tell what—or rather, whom he had walked into, and Michael was so distracted by the fluttering paper that for a moment, that was all he could look at.
Who on earth would be carrying so much paper about the place? It didn’t make sense.
The someone who had walked into him was groaning from the ground where they had fallen, and as they managed to stagger to their feet, Michael saw in horror that it was a woman.
A woman! I’ve knocked down a woman!
Not that he could be blamed for having made the mistake. The woman was wearing a man’s coat for a start, though Michael had grown relatively accustomed to that thanks to his Cousin Frank, who insisted on the same.
But this woman had gone further in her masculine attire than Lady Francesca, who still refused to answer to her proper name. No, this woman was wearing a gentleman’s shirt, and the oaths she was muttering were distinctly unladylike.
“What the…?”
“Get out of the way,” the woman snapped, reaching forward for something near his foot. “Don’t—oh, you buffoon!”
“I’m the buffoon?!” Michael blinked rapidly as he accidently stood on one of the pieces of paper the woman had carelessly flung into the air.
Despite his tone, the woman did not appear cowed. Quite to the contrary, she glared up at him with a face full of fury and retorted, “Is it your natural predilection to get in the way, or is that just a gift for me today?”