Elizabeth Mansfield (26 page)

She nodded. “Tomorrow,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll … drive with you tomorrow.”

His look of gratitude smote her like a blow. Then he bowed and was gone. She flew to the window and watched as he climbed into the curricle and drove off. By this time tomorrow she would be well on her way to Gretna Green. If she ever saw him again, it would be as a married woman, safely protected by wedlock against the temptations he represented. With her forehead pressed against the glass, she watched until the curricle had disappeared. Then she went up the stairs feeling hopeless, empty, and enveloped in a misery so acute it was beyond tears.

Lady Upsham stood behind her bedroom door, listening for the sound of Letty’s step on the stairs. When she heard it, she opened a crack in her door and peeped out at her niece’s face. What she saw was intensely discouraging, and she closed the door with a deep sigh. Perhaps she should not have sent the girl down after all. Deflated and worried, she sank down on a chair, completely absorbed in her concern for Letty. For several minutes her speculations occupied her attention, but soon she became aware that Miss Tristle was bustling about with her walking clothes. “What
are
you doing?” she inquired irritably.

Miss Tristle looked up in surprise. “Laying out your clothes, my lady. Are you not going out to meet Lady Denham this afternoon?”

“No, no. Put those things away. Lady Denham is laid up with a toothache.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” Miss Tristle murmured sympathetically, her own recent experience with the toothache fresh in her memory. “You should send Katie to her.”

“Katie?” Lady Upsham asked, mystified.

“She’s a wonder when it comes to concocting medicines and potions.”

“Is she?” Lady Upsham asked with interest.

“Indeed she is,” Miss Tristle said with enthusiasm. “She gave me an herb wash took my toothache off like
that
!”

“Is that so? Then you may be right—perhaps we should send her to Lady Denham.” Lady Upsham paused thoughtfully. “But not today. Miss Letty may have need of her today. Remind me about it tomorrow.”

***

The morrow brought the rain. In the early morning hours the downpour began. Nature, in her contrary way, was responding to the wishes expressed by so many the day before—but much too late. Brandon in particular was struck by the spitefulness of the weather. He had risen before daybreak, dressed, picked up his packed cloak-bag, and stolen from the house, to be greeted by the heaviest rainstorm he had known since his arrival. The air had a decided autumn rawness, and by the time he had limped to the stable, he was thoroughly chilled and drenched. It was then he realized that he couldn’t use his phaeton. Its light hood would be small protection against such a deluge. The only carriage in the stable that would be suitable was his mother’s ponderous coach, and he could not in good conscience make off with that. Resigning himself to another soaking, he made his way as quickly as his slowly mending ankle permitted to the nearest livery stable where he was forced to spend almost an hour under the narrow eaves waiting for the proprietor to make an appearance.

Letty viewed the rain with equal distress. It prevented her from seeing the road clearly from her window, and as the hour grew later, she wondered if it would be better for her to creep outside with her things and wait for him at the side of the road. While she vacillated, she heard the first stirrings of the servants in the hallway. She knew she had better leave at once.

She peeped out to make sure the hallway was clear. Then she lifted her overstuffed bandbox, took an umbrella, and crept out. As she passed Prue’s door she stopped in horror. She had left no word for Prue or anyone else in the family. Her thoughtlessness appalled her. She tiptoed back to her room, pulled off her gloves, and found a pen and paper.
Dearest Prue,
she wrote hastily,
by the time you read this, I will be on my way to Gretna Green. I know that you, at least, who have been closest to me and have been most aware of my unwillingness to marry Lord D., will understand why I take this step. It will not be the sort of wedding I would have wished for myself, and I know Mama and Aunt Millicent will be very shocked at my reprehensible
behavior, but I can find no other way. Do not tell Aunt Millicent where I’ve gone until you can hold back no longer. Tell her that I am truly grateful for all she has tried to do for me and that my most painful regret is that I am forced to serve her what I am sure she will think is a backhanded turn. Tell Mama the same, and that I love her above all. And tell them that they will become more resigned to my marriage when they have learned to accept the fact that it is better so. They will grow to feel kindly toward Brandon, I am sure, once they recognize his admirable characteristics. Until we meet again, dearest, I remain your loving sister, Letty.

She folded the letter carefully, put on her gloves again, and turned to go. But to her consternation, the door was opening. Katie stood in the doorway, gasping at the sight of her mistress who was fully dressed and packed for a voyage. “Miss Letty! Wha—?”

“Hush, Katie,” Letty whispered frantically, pulling the girl into the room and shutting the door.

“But, Miss Letty, what is it y’re up to?” Katie demanded, her hands on her hips and her arms akimbo.

“I’m eloping,” Letty said briefly. “And now that you’ve found me out, you can help me.”

“I ain’t helpin’ till I know more about it,” Katie said firmly. “Don’ know yet if I hold wi’ it.”

“Oh, Katie,” Letty laughed weakly, “you’re impossible. You must take my word that what I’m doing is for the best.”

“So
you
say,” Katie replied skeptically. “Is it ’is lordship?”

Letty gave Katie a wondering glance. “What do you know of his lordship?” she asked.

“I ain’t no slow-top. I know’d ’oo you was cryin’ over that night.”

Letty frowned at her. “Never mind that. I’m going to marry Mr. Peake.”

Katie’s brow wrinkled worriedly. “You’re bammin’ me! Tell me you’re bammin’ me!”

“It’s true. So don’t delay me further. Promise me you’ll tell
no one.
And give this note to Miss Prue when she wakes.”

“Does Miss Prue know what y’re doin’?” Katie asked, looking at her narrowly.

“I’ve told her in the note.”

Katie shook her head. “It’s not right, Miss Letty. Y’re makin’ as big a mistake as a body can make.”

Letty smiled at her indulgently and gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry, Katie dear. I know what I’m doing. Just be a good girl and do as I ask.” She picked up her bag and ran out. Katie stood where Letty had left her, shaking her head in concern. “You don’ know the ’alf, Miss Letty,” she murmured. “You don’ know the ’alf.”

***

The rain had not abated when Letty came out, and by the time the hired coach came down the street, her bandbox and her shoes were sadly soaked. Brandon made profuse apologies for his lateness and tried his best to put on a cheerful aspect, but the bad start seemed to auger ill for their future, and though neither would admit it, they both were inwardly very depressed. Brandon could not help thinking of Euripides’ words: “A bad beginning makes a bad ending.” And Letty, looking out the back window at her aunt’s house, rapidly disappearing from view behind a thick curtain of rain, found that a little phrase kept repeating itself ironically in her brain: “Happy the bride the sun shines on.”

Katie went about her morning duties with an abstracted air. Miss Letty’s note to her sister Prue was stowed in her apron pocket, ready to be delivered as soon as Prue should waken, but Katie dreaded the chore of delivering it. She knew that Prue would take the news hard. Mr. Peake seemed to occupy all Miss Prue’s thoughts and dreams, and Katie knew that the news that he was to be her
brother-in-law
would be painful for the girl to bear. But half the morning went by without a sign of stirring from her bedroom.

On many mornings, Lady Upsham would ask Katie to wake the girls, but on this rainy day, her ladyship evidently had decided to permit the girls to stay abed. Katie paced the corridor outside Prue’s bedroom anxiously. When the clock struck half after nine, she could bear it no longer. She opened the door and tiptoed in. Prue stirred and snuggled deeper into the pillows. “Are you awake, Miss Prue?” Katie asked tentatively.

“Mm. ’S raining,” Prue mumbled.

“Yes’m, rainin’ somethin’ fierce. I never seen such a downpour,” Katie said briskly, taking matters in hand. She pulled open the drapes and went over to the bed. “Do y’know it’s half after nine?”

Prue yawned. “Is it?” she asked, stretching lazily.

“More’n time you turned yourself out,” Katie said brusquely.

Prue sat back among the pillows and regarded Katie balefully. “You needn’t sound so quarrelsome. I don’t see why I should hurry to rise and dress on a morning like this. Is Letty up?”

Katie bit her lip. “Yes. Got up hours ago, she did. She’s … gone out, y’know …”

“Gone out? In this weather? Where?”

“Can’t say,” Katie said shortly, “but she give’d me this for you.” With a surreptitious glance at Prue’s face, she handed over the letter.

“What on earth—?” Prue asked, perplexed, and opened the note. Her mouth dropped open as soon as she’d read the first sentence. “Gretna!” she gasped. “She must have lost her senses!” She looked up at Katie accusingly. “Do you know anything of this?”

Katie shrugged. “Is that all she says? That she’s made off to Gretna?”

Prue scanned the rest of the letter quickly. Not until she’d read the last line was her eye arrested. “Oh, my God! Brandon! She hasn’t gone off with
Brandon
! She
couldn’t …
!”

Katie said nothing but watched Prue with concern. Prue had paled, and the hand holding the letter had begun to tremble. Prue turned to Katie suspiciously. “Is this some sort of hum? Is Letty trying to hoax me?”

Katie shook her head. “I ain’t whiddled the whole scrap, but she’s took off with Mr. Peake for sure. It ain’t no whisker. I seen ’em leave.”

“You
saw
them? Then for God’s sake, why didn’t you
stop
them?” Prue demanded in a choked voice.

“It ain’t my place to stop ’em, even if I could,” Katie said reasonably.

“Then you should have called
me,
” Prue said furiously. “I would have found a way.”

Katie looked dubious, and Prue, meeting her eye, was about to argue the point further when suddenly her face seemed to collapse, and she burst into tears. “Why did L-Letty do it?” she asked despairingly. “She d-doesn’t even c-care for him!”

“Are you certain sure o’ that?” Katie asked pointedly.

Prue angrily dashed the tears from her cheeks. “Yes, I’m sure! And he doesn’t really c-care for her, either!”

“Then why did ’e go?”

Prue hesitated. “I … I don’t know,” she said pettishly. Then, with an angry hitch of her body, she cast herself down into the pillows, turning her head away from Katie’s level-eyed, rational stare. “And I don’t
care,
either!” she flung back over her shoulder. “Let them go. Let them marry. They m-made their beds … let them lie in them!”

“If you really think they mistook theirsel’s,” Katie suggested, “why don’t you tell your aunt? Maybe they can be cotched …”

“No, I won’t! I don’t care if they’re caught or not. I won’t lift a
finger
to stop them! If Brandon wants Letty instead of … of … well, he can have her.” She crushed the letter in her hand and threw it away.

“Miss Prue,” Katie said soberly, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting Prue’s shoulder, “Don’t you think you should say
somethin’
? It ain’t right to run sly about a thing like this.”

“I don’t care. Letty said not to tell until I must. I’ll stay here as long as I can and say nothing till I’m asked. That’s what Letty wants … and Brandon, too … so that’s what I’ll do. As far as I’m concerned,” she added vehemently, her underlip quivering and two large tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “I w-wish them h-happy!”

Katie tried to reason with her, but Prue dismissed the abigail coldly. Katie picked up the crushed letter, put it back in her pocket, and left the room. Something told her to show the letter to Lady Upsham, but she could not bring herself to do so. “I ain’t a tattlin’ old chubb,” she said to herself, and at last, she tore the letter to shreds and threw the pieces on the fire.

No sooner was this decision made than she was told by Miss Tristle that Lady Upsham wanted her to go to the Denham lodgings to help Lady Denham cure her toothache. With an unshakable feeling that she was going from the frying pan into the fire, she flung a shawl over her head and scurried off.

When she told Lady Denham why she had come, the dowager eyed her dubiously. Lady Denham had been seen by the most respected medical man in Bath, and the medication he had prescribed had not proved efficacious. Why, then, had Lady Upsham believed that this little maidservant, whose language reeked of the streets of London, would be of more help than the doctor?

Katie, with a professional air that belied her diminutive stature and humble position, took off her shawl and approached her patient, touching the swelling on Lady Denham’s cheek with gently probing fingers. “What ’ave you took for it?” she inquired.

“This,” Lady Denham said, handing a bottle of muddy-looking liquid to the girl and watching her with interest.

“What’s in it?” Katie asked.

“I don’t know,” Lady Denham said with a shudder. “All I know is that it was too strong for my tooth to bear. I didn’t even
try
to use it after the first experience.”

Katie sniffed the liquid, then wet her finger with it and licked the finger with an exploring tongue. “I know’d it. Honey!” she declared.

“Honey?” Lady Denham repeated. “Is something wrong with that?”

“Everythin’,” Katie declared with assurance. “Don’ know why the doctors like this potion. It’s
made of juniper root, alum, and honey, and maybe one or two other things. But honey ain’t nowise good for bad teeth, ma’am. Take my word on it.”

“I don’t doubt you’re right,” Lady Denham said with a smile. The girl’s air of authority had a winning charm and seemed to inspire confidence. “Doctors can be fools, you know. This silly man told me to soak my feet in hot water and rub them in bran at bedtime. I can’t imagine how soaking my feet will be of any help to my tooth, can you?”