Bad Miss Bennet (19 page)

I ventured to ask him as tactfully as possible about the mechanics of the execution. In fact, there was no tactful way to broach such a subject.

‘Have you thought about your, er, knees?' I whispered.

He nodded, ‘I will pay for such comforts as may be obtained in the circumstances.'

‘And your families …' I continued, ‘are they well provided for?' Perhaps I should not have used the plural but it slipped out without warning. He did not appear to notice.

‘I have provided for all my dependants. I made sure of that before things began to go wrong.' He gave me a pitiful look. ‘It all started with the prince, you know.' He did not enlighten me further.

I patted his unadorned, thinning grey hair. It was strange that a man so hairy in the body should have so little upon his head. He gave me another woebegone smile.

‘If things had gone according to plan, my dear, I would have settled a charming little house on you. It is in Richmond, I have the deeds still.'

My heart skipped a beat. Had I heard correctly? A man had planned to give me a house – a roof over my head. Only my papa had ever provided such a thing, and that one entailed. What did he mean if things had gone according to plan? Was it because I had not become his mistress, or was it because of the circumstances?

‘In Richmond, you say?' I struggled to breathe slowly. ‘I am gratified that you wished to provide for me, sir. I have nothing in this world, as you know.' I allowed a tear to trickle down my cheek. I am always touched by my own predicament.

He shook his head sadly. ‘It is all too late now … too late.' Suddenly galvanised into action I cried out, ‘But if we were to be married I could inherit the house! Allow me to be your wife even if it is in name only.' Mr Getheridge regarded me seriously for a moment. His spirits were returning somewhat.

‘Yes,' he declared, ‘and there might be time to consummate the marriage if we are quick about it.' He leapt to his feet with surprising agility and called for the guard. There was a hurried consultation, a few coins exchanged hands and the man disappeared. He returned within ten minutes accompanied by a dishevelled, grease-flecked fellow of middle height who wore a clergyman's collar askew over a shirt heavily marked with his last meal. The fellow swayed a little on his feet and almost tripped over the basket of food.

‘Always happy to be of service to a fellow prisoner,' he leered at us while holding out a hand to Getheridge who dropped some coins into it. This time I saw the glint of gold.

‘Are you really a man of the cloth?' I asked. I eyed him doubtfully as he smiled revealing several missing teeth.

‘I am the closest you will get in these parts, madam. Reverend Abel Imray (unfrocked) at your service.'

‘Hurry, man, hurry,' urged Getheridge. ‘There is no time to lose. The sands of my life are running out.' I stood up and we joined hands. He tore a signet ring from his finger and gave it to the reverend who produced a tattered prayer book from a pocket and muttered a few lines from the marriage service. The ring was placed on my finger and then removed because it was too large.

‘I pronounce you man and wife,' he remarked before collapsing on to the bed and requesting some strong liquor ‘to toast the happy couple'. At that moment the guard reappeared and ordered me to leave. I was shooed away as Getheridge argued loudly with the man.

‘The deeds, the deeds!' I called frantically. ‘Where are they?'

‘At Jasmine Cottage,' shouted my new husband. I was never to see him again.

‘A Fleet marriage is not valid in the eyes of the law, Lydia. You are aware of that, I trust?' Selena gave me one of her superior looks when I returned to Portman Square in a distracted condition. ‘You must flee to Gretna Green these days.' I clenched my hands in fury. Had she not urged me to ingratiate myself with a condemned man, advising me to do everything in my power to take his money? I found myself raising my voice in an unbecoming shriek.

‘How can you adopt that tone with me, madam? Have I not succeeded in doing what everyone wished me to do?' I was including Jerry in this statement although Selena could not know that. She ignored my rage and looked excited.

‘Do you mean you have his money – or some of it, at least?' How easily the need for solvency overcomes our finer feelings. I lowered my voice just as Miles entered the room.

‘I do not have his money, but I have a house. It is called Jasmine Cottage and it stands in Richmond Park. We have only to go there and make a claim. The deeds are at the house and I am his wife – for a short while.'

Selena rang for tea at this point and we sipped it slowly, thinking over the events of the day. Miles suddenly frowned and again gave evidence of some thought processes at work. He seized my left hand and peered at it exclaiming,

‘You have no wedding ring.' I explained that we had used Mr Getheridge's own ring for the ceremony and it was too large for normal wear. ‘If you have no ring, no doubt you are without a marriage license also. Your lack of forethought is astonishing,' Selena chimed in. I was temporarily crushed by this evident truth, but I pointed out that the likes of the reverend Abel Imray were unlikely to be in possession of such a thing in the circumstances.

‘Surely it does not signify, if the marriage is illegal?' Miles remarked brightly. ‘Did you not tell me, my dear, that Getheridge already had a wife or two?' His wife tapped her teacup impatiently.

‘All the more reason to stake a claim quickly before the authorities discover the truth. Miles, you must hire a carriage and take us to Richmond Park immediately.' He protested that it was already four-thirty in the afternoon and time for a ‘libation' as he put it, but his wife was unmoved. I was touched by their enthusiasm on my behalf. I knew that Selena was concerned about where they would live after Portman Square.

In my mind I could see myself departing for Paris with the Count and leaving my friends in charge of Jasmine Cottage. I would be a woman of property at last, even if it was only a small one. I wondered uneasily about Jerry and his plans for me but if my future lay with the Count Jerry would have to be jettisoned at some point, however hard that would be for me to accept.

We were soon rattling through London on our way to the park while Miles reminded us that Getheridge would be hanged on the following day. He had arranged places at the Magpie and Stump but I knew I could never watch such an event.

‘Surely a wife's place is among the onlookers on such a day?' Miles was grinning and being provocative again. I protested that I had no stomach for such a thing and least of all for the devilled kidneys afterwards.

‘It hardly matters,' said the practical Selena. ‘I am sure at least one of his wives or mistresses will be present.'

‘I daresay the poor fellow will have other matters to worry about,' added Miles. ‘A hanging must concentrate a man's mind in a wonderful fashion.' We spent the rest of the journey in silence except for a brief account from Miles about an acquaintance of his who had over indulged in morphine and had subsequently developed what he referred to as ‘man boobs'.

‘A devilish business.' He shook his head.

‘That will be quite enough of that,' was Selena's response.

When we eventually found Jasmine Cottage it was indeed a small cot, more suitable for a shepherd than a lady but Miles declared it to be a bijou residence and when we managed to gain entrance we found it to be pleasantly, if sparsely, furnished. Miles had climbed through an open window in order to admit us through the front door. Selena declared that the cottage in its isolated corner of the park was obviously intended as a love nest.

‘Never mind that, we must look for the deeds. The deeds. He said they were hidden somewhere.' I set them both to searching and although we made a thorough inspection of the rooms and peered in all the drawers and closets, we found nothing. Then Miles put his hand into the chimney space and pulled out an oilskin package containing documents. A quick look inside confirmed that these were the deeds. We left immediately and returned speedily to Portman Square. I resolved to visit a notary on the following day to make my claim. Before I retired to bed that night I remembered to put a curtain ring on my left hand in lieu of the real thing. My Wickham wedding ring had been quietly stored away.

Miles and Selena left early the following morning in order to make their way through the huge crowds assembling for the execution of my friend/husband/protector. I admit that I cowered in my bed for some time, unwilling to face the day. Adelaide told me that large numbers of people were making their way to Newgate. She implied that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to join them, but I already had two witnesses to the event and I did not need another.

I made a late breakfast and sat listlessly reading a novel when a loud knock at the front door caused me to run to the window where I beheld two rough looking fellows who closely resembled bailiffs trying to gain admittance. I assumed they must be in search of Miles but Adelaide burst into the room saying that the men wished to speak to me. She was closely followed by the men themselves, who, when I protested at the outrage, ignored my words and simply demanded the deeds to Jasmine Cottage.

My astonishment at that moment was genuine. How could they have known about this matter? They soon explained themselves.

‘We are here to execute a warrant for the possessions of the late felon, Thomas Getheridge, executed but one hour ago at Newgate. His possessions and property are forfeit to the state.'

‘But I am his wife,' I squeaked.

‘They all make that claim,' retorted the first bailiff.

‘May we see your marriage licence, madam?' The second bailiff sneered at me.

‘I have the deeds!' I squeaked again. ‘The deeds to Jasmine Cottage. It belongs to me.'

‘Then you will hand them over, madam, seeing as the house is forfeit and seeing as how you are only his latest wife.' The bailiffs seemed to think this was a great joke. Just as I handed over the deeds with the utmost reluctance a commotion in the street outside indicated that a number of carriages were jostling for position. I saw Lord Finchbrook's phaeton tangling with an elegant maroon, blue and gold vehicle. To my horror I saw my brother-in-law descend from the carriage and mount the steps to the house, casting a disapproving glance at Lord Finchbrook who followed him twirling a cane with gusto.

I tore the ring from my finger and dropped it quietly under a chair before running quickly to my chamber and replacing my legal Wickham wedding ring on my left hand. When I returned downstairs I saw that Adelaide had bustled the bailiffs out as quickly as she could but Darcy's sharp eyes missed nothing.

‘Are you in some kind of trouble, Lydia?'

‘Oh no, dear Fitzie,' I replied gaily. ‘Just a little matter connected with Miles.' Mister Fitzwilliam Darcy's cheeks began to turn purple.

Chapter Sixteen

My brother-in-law was never noted for his sense of humour. I doubt that he would have recognised a jest if it ran up the main staircase at Pemberley and bit him on the nose. It seemed that he could not bear a little light joshing from his sister-in-law, either, although I have seen a faint smile appear when Lizzie teased him.

My ability to look on the bright side of life at the most distressing moments was either an enviable gift or a dubious one, depending on your point of view. On a morning of death, dashed hopes and unwelcome visitors I could not resist annoying Mr Darcy. He was so easily annoyed. I watched the purple hue rise in his cheeks as I smiled pleasantly and offered my guests a seat. At that moment I heard the front door close with a loud bang as the bailiffs finally left. I hastened to make the introductions.

‘May I present my dear brother-in-law?' I said to the beaming Lord Finchbrook, who shook the hand unwillingly proffered, giving the impression that he had waited all his life for this meeting. ‘I am sure you must have met His Lordship in London at some time, dear Fitzie!' I remarked wickedly.

‘I have not had the pleasure,' Darcy retorted, adding between gritted teeth, ‘Do not address me by that ridiculous name, Lydia.'

While I rang for Adelaide to bring sherry and ratafia wafers for the visitors, Darcy unbent sufficiently to remark that he had endured a ‘dashed difficult journey' from his London lodgings on account of the crowds gathered to watch the execution of some felon.

Lord Finchbrook nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that would be the unfortunate Getheridge. We knew him quite well, did we not, Mrs Wickham?' I almost congealed with fright wondering what this ridiculous lordling would blurt out next. The man had the brains and sensitivity of a feather duster. Darcy turned to me with an expression of horror.

‘You, my sister-in-law, were acquainted with this felon?' Lord Finchbrook interrupted hurriedly having realised his mistake. ‘Oh, do not be alarmed, sir. Everyone of consequence in London knew Getheridge. He was, until recently, a respected banker and confidant of the Prince Regent. His end was a most melancholy matter.' I swallowed my sherry too quickly and choked a little. Thank heavens Lord Finchbrook had not poured out the details of my Fleet marriage. I was sure Miles would have told him of it. My brother-in-law wreaked vengeance on a ratafia wafer with his excellent teeth and regarded me suspiciously.

‘Your sister and I have been concerned about you, madam. Your letters have been sparse, to say the least. We were naturally concerned with your welfare, as a young widow in London.' There was a wealth of unspoken accusation hanging in the air. I knew that his concern for me meant a fear that I might disgrace his august family in some way. I was the disreputable relative, the woolly-headed creature who had eloped at sixteen with the dastardly Wickham.

That episode had cost him ten thousand pounds. I had no doubt that he wanted something in return. Men always want something from women. In my case it would probably be an undertaking to remain of nun-like virtue for the rest of my days. Lord Finchbrook must have read my thoughts.