Chapter 13
Elizabeth was astounded. The tea had worked marvellously to erode the wooden window frame, and there was no way to hide what her little buckle had just managed to do.
She had thought it would take weeks, maybe months.
But the little bits she had managed to chip away had started cracks in the frame, and the tea had run through those cracks, and her project went from, moments ago, having had very little success with breaking the wood to the sudden fall of a huge portion of the lower frame.
It fell into the garden outside, and some of the glass panes dropped, as well.
All but one of the iron bars, unsupported, popped out, as well.
Luckily, wood, glass, and iron must have landed in various bushes, because there was very little sound from the startling fall.
Elizabeth’s heart pounded, although she was stunned into stillness for a few moments. She found it difficult to breathe as she pictured someone coming into the room at this moment. There was no way to hide the damage to the window.
She had to go. Now! There was not a moment to lose!
She removed her petticoat, used it to wrap around her hand, and struck the rest of the woodwork and glass panes, knocking the rest of the internal structure of the window out of the way.
Luckily, that morning, she had repacked her extra clothing into her valise, which had lost the urine smell.
She took a few steps and grabbed it, leaving behind the book all the way across the room, on the bed.
She pushed the valise out of the window and climbed onto the chair in order to carefully climb out of the window, herself.
She had to run….but in what direction? And to what place of safety?
As she attempted to come up with a good plan, Elizabeth crouched a bit as she darted behind some bushes.
Scanning all around her, she saw a break in the trees at a certain point, and she guessed that there might be a road there.
She ran in that direction, soon crossing a meadow and then entering a wheat field.
Where should I go? she asked herself. The place of safety should be Longbourn—but clearly at least someone there had participated in her imprisonment in the little country house. That someone being Jane, but she felt certain that one of her parents, at the very least, must have gone along with it.
The thought of the betrayal was still too awful to bear, and her mind skipped over it other than to acknowledge that she would not be fleeing to Longbourn.
Of course, being with Darcy is where she longed to be—and he could still be at Netherfield Park, or he could have gone to London. Or he could be beating the bushes, looking for her.
She desperately hoped he would not be returning to Pemberley.
She decided to go to London, to the Gardiners.
She would certainly be safe with them, and they could help her find Darcy.
Elizabeth was not at all sure she could walk all the way to London, and her concerns for her own safety not only had to do with food and drinking water, but also violence or ruination from strange men.
Still, it was best to have a goal, and she decided firmly that her goal should be London.
While she ran, she considered the angle of the sun, judging the time and determining which way was likely north.
When she reached the road, she ran southwards—or at least she hoped she was running southwards.
Although she had no idea where she was, her guess was that she was still in Hertfordshire, between Meryton and London.
She could not see London from where she was—given the height of the wheat, she could see very little—but she hoped to find a hill from which she might glimpse the tallest church spires, or at least London’s famous smoke.
With her heart racing and her lungs burning, Elizabeth knew she would need water, food, and rest soon, but she also worried about escaping recapture.
If her jailers did not already know she had escaped, they soon would; it seemed extremely likely that they would try to find her.
She figured that the way to evade them was to listen carefully.
Whenever she heard wheels or hooves coming from either direction, she slid into a wheat field and made sure that she could no longer see the road—hoping that, indeed, anyone on the road could not see her.
The wheat snagged at her skirt and pulled her hair.
She was so unused to being outside without gloves and a bonnet, and especially with her hair down.
She knew that she must look quite wild and in no way a lady.
But there had been no gloves, bonnet, or hairpins in the room, including in the valise, so she had no choice.
It was not long before the road started rising, and she was forced to walk.
She was glad of the upward grade, since she wished to see further, to spot some sign of London.
Soon it became difficult even walking, with the ever-tightening feeling reaching up the back of her legs from her heels to her seat.
She so hoped that she was heading towards London…
that her strenuous efforts were not taking her away from where she wished to be, and she was grateful when she saw a higher outcropping of rocks.
Plunging into the wheat field until she reached the rocks, she scrambled up the formation and looked in every direction.
It turned out that she could easily see London’s smoke. And a few church spires, as well.
The road was not pointing southwards, but was rather running west southwestwards.
She was gratified that at least she had chosen the correct direction to walk on this road, and she anticipated coming soon to the Great North Road and then turning entirely southwards. To London.
But…in the meantime….
She could see parts of the road, here and there, and she carefully looked for buildings or towns that were closer than that smudge of smoke.
Finally, she spotted a house that looked to be quite close to the road.
It was hard to see the size of the house from so far away, but it looked more likely to be a farmhouse or tenant’s cottage than a manor house.
Elizabeth noticed an unusual tree that would tell her that she was quite close to the house—a tree with a witches’ broom tangle of branches.
She started walking again, feeling glad that she had always been a strong walker.
What is a likely story I can tell to elicit help and not ill treatment? Elizabeth asked herself.
There was no way that Elizabeth could explain that her closest, most beloved sister had drugged her and then sent her to be locked up and cared for by strangers. That did not sound at all likely—and the fact that Jane had done such a thing was still unbelievable to Elizabeth.
A carriage accident came to mind, but then people would wish to find the other victims. A hired post-chaise…
a driver who had been drinking…. Elizabeth decided that, perhaps, she and her maid could have whispered and decided that they were unsafe and jumped from the carriage and hid when the driver hesitated at the beginning of the hill.
But then… the maid had run off when a stray dog came running towards them…
and Elizabeth had been attempting to repin her hair, and all her hairpins and her gloves were in her bonnet, and the dog snatched the bonnet and ran off…
Elizabeth had called and called for the maid to return, and waited and waited, but then she finally decided that she would have to walk alone.
That, too, sounded quite unlikely, but it was surely more believable than the truth.
She would lie about her name, of course.
Miss Elizabeth Baxter would be a good enough disguise.
She would want to promise money from her wealthy intended…
but what would HIS name be? If she did not wish to besmirch the name Bennet, in case things went poorly, how much more would she wish to protect the name Darcy?
A sudden thought slammed into her—Darcy would be looking for her, and he would hire people to look for her. Perhaps she should use her real name?
As Elizabeth plodded, one foot in front of the other, then the next step, and the next, and the next…
instead of spending her time remembering wonderful moments with Darcy, she pictured him riding towards her, asking people if they had seen a young woman walking alone, about this tall, with dark, curly hair… .
It was hard to remember that she had likely been taken away from Longbourn in a carriage, while asleep from whatever Jane had given her…. So Darcy and the men he hired would not be searching for a young woman walking alone…would they?
Lest she get too discouraged, Elizabeth forced her mind back into memories. While she trudged, trudged, trudged, she remembered…..
“Would you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?” Darcy had asked politely, nodding towards her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
“They are my relatives from near Cheapside. They are in trade,” Elizabeth had whispered, not wishing to allow a misunderstanding ruin the so-far perfect amity she felt from Mr Darcy.
He nodded, clearly having expected this identification. “I would be most honoured to know them,” he whispered back. “Please.”
Despite the shock of how she had so misunderstood Mr Darcy—as revealed by his letter—despite the amazement of being warmly welcomed after her wretched—nay, despicable—rejection of his proposal, Elizabeth still managed to feel surprised at the request. Of course, she hurried to use her best manners in the introduction, and the other three spoke the typical courtesies with atypical grace and warmth.
Soon she was standing still, all bemusement, as they discussed fishing opportunities at Pemberley, an invitation to dinner that night, and how well they had enjoyed Chatsworth.
“We must go if we are to arrive on time, Edward,” Elizabeth’s aunt said.
Aunt Maddie made her excuses to Mr Darcy—they were soon due for a visit and afternoon tea with an old friend—and then he turned to Elizabeth, bent over her hand with an air that was almost reverent, and said, “Until tonight, Miss Bennet. It has been lovely to see you.”
And, as they rode away, it took minutes and minutes for Elizabeth to notice her relations’ knowing smiles, for she was far too busy looking back at Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth wished she could see if the far-away farmhouse she had spotted looked much closer, but once again, she was stymied by the height of the wheat growing in the field.
At least the road was now trending downwards, and she had been able to lengthen her stride with the easier walking.
Soon, however, she would need to drink some water.
She abandoned all imaginings and memories of Darcy in her search for indications of water, and she finally spotted a line of green trees on either side of the road, and she eagerly increased her pace until she finally spotted the stone arch bridge over a babbling creek.
She was almost assured of survival for at least another few hours!