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Authors: Jean Burnett

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BOOK: Bad Miss Bennet
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‘Do you plan to elope with Sapphire?' He looked horrified.

‘I thought not. You must know that her mother intends her for Mr de Lawrence. He is very wealthy and you are not.' My partner in crime looked even more dejected but insisted, ‘I am sure I can convince Lady Boulter to accept me.' The poor man was deranged but his problems were his own. I needed only his co-operation for a few days.

Sapphire was informed of our plans and was only too willing to assist. She met with her admirer in secluded places whenever I could distract Lady Boulter and at other times she suffered de Lawrence's attentions meekly. Seton was in agony whenever his beloved was with ‘that man'.

‘That creature is not to be trusted, despite his wealth, ill-gotten no doubt. He looks like a veritable slip-gibbet to me.' Having uttered these un-Christian sentiments he returned to the matter in hand.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

That evening, after Sapphire had entertained us with a spirited rendition of Koczwara's ‘The Battle of Prague' on the pianoforte and Lizzie and I had managed to sing a few verses of a melody by Handel, I prepared myself for battle. I had already instructed Adelaide to pack our belongings and to be ready to leave when I signalled. Before that, I needed to confront my brother-in-law for the last time – or at least for a long time to come.

Late that evening when most of the guests had retired I tip-toed after my brother-in-law into the orangery and had the satisfaction of seeing him jump in the air when I spoke. His startled look quickly turned to a frown.

‘Lydia, is there something you wish to discuss with me?' I nodded,

‘Indeed, sir.'

‘Can it not wait until morning?' When I looked serious and shook my head he beckoned me further into the orangery. In the soft golden light from the candelabra Darcy held aloft, the exotic fronds and ferns appeared to wave slightly in a faint breeze and the vivid, tropical plants bent over us in a manner almost sensuous. The perfume from the orchids made me feel languid, even nauseous, but I collected my wits and addressed Darcy firmly. ‘I believe, dear brother, that you have been withholding some things from me while I have been away – and indeed before I left.'

‘Things, what things?' There was a note of unease in his voice.

‘To be precise, my letters. Letters from my friends and from Count Esterhazy. I trust you have not destroyed them. That would be disgusting as I am sure you are aware. I will not leave this house until you return them to me.' My brother-in-law regained his composure and declared that he had done what was necessary. ‘You should be grateful to me that you are at last about to make a respectable alliance. I saved you from yourself!'

‘And indeed I am saved, but I need to show perfect candour to Mr Arbuthnot in the circumstances. I intend to show him the letters.' I felt this was a stroke of genius on my part. I could see that Darcy was nonplussed. He placed the candelabra down on a shelf and retreated into the gathering gloom.

‘I am not sure that would be wise.'

I pretended surprise. ‘Do you not advocate honesty between spouses?'

‘Of course, of course, but in your case I'm not sure …'

‘I am sure,' I interrupted. ‘I will not consider embarking on matrimony under any other circumstances.'

This threat was sufficient; he led me away to his private study and unlocked a drawer in his desk. He handed me a bundle of unopened letters without a word while wearing his most acidulated expression. I turned on my heel and walked away to my room.

I spent half of that long night reading letters from Selena and Miles and two reproachful missives from the Count wondering why I was maintaining total silence. Finally, he decided that I had changed my mind and that he would depart forthwith for Paris. Included in this small package was an undated love letter from the Count. As I read my heart pained me a good deal. I had never received such a tender note, dear reader. Mr Wickham had not thought it necessary to woo me in such a manner, and Jerry had been cast from the same mould.

I had felt such a strong attraction to you when we first met, but since our parting and your cruel silence that attraction has grown into despairing adoration. Now that you have left me my world has become a desert. Wherever you are, my dearest one, send me a sign that you have not forsaken me. This separation is unbearable to me. Come and join me and let us be happy while we may
.

I wept a few bitter tears over my misfortunes in love, but surely all that was about to end. I was a woman of means and I could pursue my own life, once the little matter of the task for my country was accomplished.

Any satisfaction I felt at recovering my property was countered the following morning by the realisation that Rev. Seton was intent on making a regular humblebroth of our joint scheme. I was summoned to Lady Boulter's room before breakfast where I found her ladyship with her face steeped in mud and vinegar to banish wrinkles and her mouth working hard. Did I realise that Sapphire and Rev. Arbuthnot had formed a liaison?

‘Do not deny it, madam, I know that you have aided and abetted them!'

‘I have done nothing shameful, Lady Boulter. I am as shocked as you are by these revelations. It seems I am to be blamed for everything that goes awry in this house. Of course I shall have to reconsider my own position with regard to the Rev. Arbuthnot.' I left the dowager grinding her teeth as far as that was possible when one's face is covered with hardened mud.

Lady Boulter decided that discretion was the best course. My threat regarding the Reverend must have struck home. Was it not possible that I might also inform Mr de Lawrence of his intended's behaviour? After privately threatening the two lovers in the strongest terms she omitted to inform her host and hostess of anything amiss and dinner that evening passed without drama. The Reverend and Sapphire were suitably subdued and I concentrated on my final preparations, reviewing my escape plans in my head while Darcy and de Lawrence monopolised the conversation.

After dinner we all settled down in the small salon for a hand of loo while Lady Boulter twittered anxiously about the size of the communal pot. To my annoyance, Mr Darcy assured her that we would play for pennies only. My fingers itched with frustration as I was dealt my three cards. Here were two excessively wealthy men at the same table, willing to play for – pennies! What a lost opportunity. In the event, I was dealt a poor hand and when Lizzie led with an eight of hearts I could not follow.

I discarded my lowest card, a three of spades, and I would have rapidly lost interest in the game had I not noticed that Lady Boulter was cheating. This amused me greatly. I am sufficiently adept in the art of deception in gaming to recognise another cheat, however well they disguise their methods. Lady Boulter was not particularly adept at disguise. Mr de Lawrence shot a few sharp glances in her direction and I realised that he was also aware of the situation. Our West Indian nabob was a self made man. I wondered how he had made his fortune. Perhaps the Reverend was right after all.

By this time one of the cards in the trump suit had been played and her ladyship, having produced the highest trump, took the trick. Her glee at winning a handful of pennies was pathetic to behold. Her cheeks were flushed and her manner became arch.

‘I am enjoying such good fortune, Mr Darcy,' she simpered. ‘Perhaps we might play for higher stakes?' My brother-in-law looked at the small pile of pennies with a puzzled expression. At that moment Sapphire stood up abruptly, pleaded a headache and left the table. The Reverend and de Lawrence almost fought each other to escort her to the door. I guessed she knew of her mother's ruse and despised it. We continued to play and my lacklustre cards produced no tricks at all. I was finally ‘looed' to the obvious delight of Lady Boulter. I placed three pennies in the pot.

In the following double pool rounds I had better luck, eventually winning all of five pence. Lady Boulter continued to win most trumps, concealing her own cards in the folds of her flowing shawl which she wore due to her ‘extreme susceptibility' to the cold. Only Mr de Lawrence and I appeared to notice the deception.

Late that night, in my own rooms, I took the bold step of preparing for my flight by taking a bath. I hoped it would not have a weakening effect on my constitution. I bathed in my chemise with a sachet of almonds, pine nuts, linseed, marshmallow root and lily bulb-something the French call a
bain de modestie
. Afterwards, I recovered lying on my bed having dabbed tuberose essence liberally on my person.

Adelaide laid out a walking dress of lilac blue edged with Pomona green. One cannot be too well dressed when planning a Great Escape. I had decided that this was the moment when I would sever relations with my family, at least for some time. I was now a person of means and I intended to sink or swim by myself – with a little help from my friends. I held my destiny in my own hands as if it were a new born babe and I the midwife. In particular I shall sever all ties with Pemberley and my odious brother-in-law.

As the night wore on Adelaide and I sat around in my chamber, ill at ease, with our belongings packed at our feet. Pausing to light another candle, Adelaide smothered a cry when a large spider emerged from under a rug like a calling card from the underworld. I did not voice this gothic thought aloud for fear of unsettling my maid even more.

At a little after midnight the house seemed quiet enough. We stole through the corridors with all that we could carry. A large portmanteau had been deposited in a summerhouse on a remote part of the estate the day before. The Rev. Arbuthnot had been charged with recovering it and placing it in the chaise which he had ordered at my request. I paused for a moment to slip a letter under the door of Darcy's study. I had taken the utmost care over its composition.

My Dear Brother-in-Law
,

You will receive this letter when I have left this house, I hope for the last time. I have been hated and despised while under its roof – an object of scorn to all. Now I am able to shake off the dust of Pemberley from my shoes. Thanks to a generous legacy from my late employer I am now a woman of independent means. You must know that I never had any intention of marrying the Reverend Arbuthnot but I derived great pleasure in convincing you otherwise. I am returning to the Continent to resume the life of my choice. We will be well rid of each other, I believe
.

Your servant
,

Lydia Wickham

As an afterthought I added my fondest love to Lizzie.

Adelaide had been able to copy a key obtained from her favourite footman and we unlocked one of the large windows opening onto the terrace. We moved swiftly down the drive to where the chaise was waiting accompanied by the Reverend who was shivering with apprehension. The man had no stomach at all for dissimulation and treachery. Lady Boulter would eat him alive. He was glad to bid us adieu. I instructed him to deny all knowledge of my flight, but I fear Darcy will easily prise the truth from him.

We were thankful to reach an inn in the nearest town where we sat up all night waiting for the early morning coach at first light. No effort was made to apprehend us on the long journey to London. I fancy that Darcy was indeed glad to be rid of me.

And so, dear reader, I took flight from these English shores once more like a wayward bird that follows its own path rather than join its fellows. As we journeyed to Paris I wondered whether I would ever have a house or even a city I could call mine. Would I be forever in transit like a ghostly portmanteau? Adelaide obviously shared my fears.

‘We won't never settle, will we, madam?' I stared out of the window seeing my pale face reflected. ‘I truly hope we shall,' I replied, but I did not convince either of us.

Chapter Thirty

Paris again

We lodged with Selena and Miles in their apartment on the charming rue St Sulpice. It was a somewhat cramped lodging for all of us but I knew I would not be staying long. I had informed the embassy of my arrival but I was sure they already knew. I did not have long to wait; within a few days while Selena and I were enjoying coffee and ices at Tortoni's, I was presented with a letter carried by my demonic shadow, Captain Marshfield. It contained my instructions. After the briefest of conversations the captain departed and I hastily scanned the note. I told Selena that it was a message from the Count who was anxious to be re-united with me.

‘He asks me to leave immediately,' I told her. It was almost true. The letter informed me that the Count had returned to Paris and I was to make myself known to him as soon as possible. My joy at the prospect of seeing him once more was mixed with the trepidation I felt at the task before me. Selena was aghast at the news.

‘You have scarcely had time to see the sights of the city – or visit the milliners, not to mention attending a
soirée
or two.'

‘It is for the best,' I assured her. ‘My future lies with the Count.' I crossed my fingers firmly as I said this. Selena gave a cynical sniff. ‘You are full of moonshine, Lydia. How can your future lie with this man? You scarcely know him, and he may be married. He is also an aristocrat and a foreigner. You will be nothing but a plaything for him.'

‘One thing can lead to another,' I replied, spooning the last of the ice-cream into my mouth while looking around the crowded café for I knew not what. The place was awash with well-dressed women and officers in uniforms of every hue. The babble of voices was so loud that Selena and I were reduced to lip reading.

‘I will write to you from Vienna,' I promised. ‘They say it is a charming city.'

But we did not go to Vienna. My reunion with the Count was a rapturous one, sealed in his lodgings by an afternoon of love and the presentation of a sapphire necklace similar to the ones adorning the necks of the ladies of the night in the Palais Royal.

Selena was right, as always. I was the Count's plaything, but he was kind and attentive and generous and my task was to deceive him. In short, my family's view of me was correct. I was a dissolute woman who could be bought and sold. Even my country had purchased me for its own purposes. Once again I heard Wickham's voice in my head.

BOOK: Bad Miss Bennet
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