Unforgiving Temper (11 page)

“Unhand me!” Elizabeth cried, trying to hide
her terror.

“In a moment, my dear. This will not take
long,” he calmly assured her as she struggled against his grasp.
“Be quick about it, Ann. The coach will be here soon!”

“I can't do anything with her thrashing
about. Hold her still!”

With a wicked grin, Wickham obliged by
pulling Elizabeth's arms tightly behind her back, bringing her
firmly against his body. She gasped anew at the pain in her arms
but refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing her panic.
Terrified and furious at the same time, Elizabeth strained in a
violent effort to free herself, but Wickham's superior strength
held her fast. Forced to endure Mrs. Younge's vigorous
examination, Elizabeth could only shut her eyes against the horror
of the woman's searching hands moving roughly across her chest and
down her legs.

“There's nothing here!” Mrs. Younge
complained.

“Keep looking. I am confident
Miss Bennet would not travel so far without resources. Would
you my dear?” he murmured darkly in her ear.

Renewing her efforts, Mrs. Younge soon
gave a triumphant cry as her fingers closed around the coins pinned
beneath Elizabeth's skirt.

“You were right! She did have money – and
quite a nice sum at that!”

Elizabeth's heart plummeted when the coins
that would have been her means of escape dropped into
Mrs. Younge's own pocket. Wickham relaxed his hold and
Elizabeth shook him off with an angry shrug.

“Are you satisfied?” she hissed.

“Quite. I am sure you would not want to
jeopardize your family's reputation by backing out of our
arrangement, but I was obliged to remove the temptation from you
all the same. Now, shall we have some refreshment before the coach
arrives?” he offered cheerfully.

Moving to a small table which held a tray of
tea and biscuits, he filled a cup and held it out to Elizabeth.
Badly shaken by the cold-hearted assault, she managed to quell the
trembling in her hands as she accepted the cup. She had to do
everything in her power to keep her wits about her for the
situation was much more dangerous than she could have ever
imagined. She realized it would take every possible stratagem for
her plan to succeed.

With little appetite, it was not difficult to
refuse the biscuits, and Elizabeth had only managed to consume half
her lukewarm tea before a heavy hand banged on the door, announcing
the arrival of the post coach.

Quickly finishing his biscuit, Wickham gulped
down the last of his tea and hurried the two ladies out to the
waiting carriage. Their luggage was already secured on top and the
door stood open, showing them to be the only passengers. Handing
Elizabeth and her companion in, he stepped back as the stable boy
folded the steps and closed the door. She looked at him in
confusion and he responded with a broad smile.

“This is where I leave you now. I am
returning to Meryton as Mrs. Forster has invited me to dine this
evening and I would not want to disappoint her. I wish you a
pleasant journey, ladies. I do not expect there will be any
difficulties now that we all understand one other – do we not?” His
eyes swept boldly over Elizabeth before giving Mrs. Younge a
sly wink.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but was
suddenly thrown backwards as Wickham thumped the side of the
carriage to signal the coachman, and the impatient horses were
given their head. Her indignant cry was drowned out by the crack of
the whip and pounding hooves as the carriage lurched out of the
cobbled courtyard and onto the road leading northward.

Awkwardly, Elizabeth struggled to regain her
seat as Mrs. Younge looked on with obvious amusement. When she
finally managed to right herself, the woman turned to inspect the
passing countryside, ignoring Elizabeth altogether. Elizabeth sat
studying the woman who had happily aided Mr. Wickham in his
despicable attack at the inn and wondered what had happened in Ann
Younge's life to create such a vile and unprincipled creature.

Soon she turned away as well and gazed out
the window though she saw nothing of what lay beyond. Her mind was
too engaged with the enormity of her situation. Robbed of her money
and her dignity, she was being carried headlong into the unknown
with no more than a hope of finding help at the end of her
journey.

She struggled against the tears now welling
in her eyes, searching her mind for something – anything – that
would lift her spirits, but even thoughts of Jane and
Mr. Bingley were not enough; and at length, she lost the
battle. Her misery spilled over in waves of hot tears that coursed
down her cheeks unchecked. Wickham's ruthless behavior made her all
the more desperate to save her family from his evil plans and she
prayed that her efforts would not be in vain.

Shifting her position yet again on the
uncomfortable, well-worn cushions of the aging post coach,
Elizabeth tried to find a way to shield her already bruised limbs
from its brutally jarring motions. She was grateful there were no
other occupants at present, but that fact was little compensation
for the seemingly endless days of travel filled with hot, dusty
roads, more than one leering gentleman, and Mrs. Younge's
insufferable company. A sudden jolt of the carriage, which nearly
threw her from her seat, drained Elizabeth's last ounce of
patience.

“Shall we reach our next stop before
nightfall, Mrs. Younge?”

“I did not know you were so anxious to begin
your servitude,” the woman scoffed in response, igniting
Elizabeth's temper.

“I am merely wanting to know how long we
shall have to endure the abuse of this particular road. The
highways of the north are highly overrated.”

“It is of no consequence. You will take what
comes to you. Did you not learn that when we started this journey?”
Mrs. Younge replied tauntingly.

“I learned that I am in the company of a
heartless woman,” Elizabeth shot back. “And, if you believe that
despicable attack in Hertfordshire injured my spirits, you are
greatly mistaken. You may have robbed me of my money, madam; but
not my courage!”

“Oh, I see! Those must have been tears of
courage
you cried as we left Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at
Mrs. Younge's sneering comment, and she turned back to her own
window, more anxious than ever to free herself from the woman's
petty cruelties. Just as she was beginning to think they would
travel all the way to Scotland, the coach lurched to a stop in a
small village and Ann Younge ordered their trunks to be
removed.

Relieved to be off the road at last,
Elizabeth examined her surroundings and discovered they were in the
village of Hensingham. She had spent the greater part of the
journey tracking their progress northward and, from her Aunt and
Uncle Gardiner's description of the Lake District, she believed
herself to be in Cumberland, the very region she had thought to
tour with them. The certainty of her situation sunk a little deeper
as she realized that she would not be seeing them or any of her
family any time soon.

After directing the care of their luggage,
Mrs. Younge surveyed the streets and then smiled in success.
She pushed Elizabeth toward a fine carriage that stood waiting at
the next street corner. Two footmen dressed in dark blue livery
came to attention at the sight of the two women.

Detecting Mrs. Younge's eagerness to
reach the comfort of the handsomely appointed coach, Elizabeth
slowed her pace and then stopped altogether, calmly smoothing her
dress and adjusting her gloves.

“Hurry up! The coach is waiting,” Ann Younge
commanded, nearly quivering with impatience.

“Why, Mrs. Younge, it seems I have a
stone in my boot. I think I shall have to remove it,” Elizabeth
observed lightly and sat down on a nearby bench.

“I don't care if you have
ten
stones
in your-” Mrs. Younge hissed furiously before realizing that
one of the footmen had approached close enough to overhear them.
She snapped her mouth closed, her face coloring with suppressed
fury, and several seconds passed before she could finally manage to
choke out the words that courtesy demanded. “By all means,
Miss Bennet. I am happy to wait for you.”

Elizabeth turned a brilliant smile on the
footman. “Please excuse my traveling companion. We have come a very
long way, and her nerves are somewhat frayed.”

“I understand, Miss. There is no hurry. We
shall depart at your convenience,” he replied with a smile of his
own.

Mrs. Younge glared at the prolonged
efforts to remove the imaginary pebble. After some frustrated
minutes, she smiled slyly and addressed Elizabeth in a voice loud
enough to be heard by those close by.

“Miss Bennet, please do hurry along. We
would not want to begin
your employment
with a late
arrival.”

Elizabeth colored slightly, but still waited
another minute before standing. “Of course, Mrs. Younge. I
would not want to keep someone of importance waiting.”

“Quite right,” sniffed her companion
triumphantly, missing the slur altogether.

Smiling to herself, Elizabeth accepted the
hand of the footman and entered the carriage behind
Mrs. Younge. Surveying the well-appointed interior and noting
the blue and yellow crest embroidered on the cushions, she could
not help wondering exactly what sort of employer she would find at
the end of her journey.

* * * *

After the tortuous, rough and tumble journey
of the past few days, Elizabeth was grateful for the luxuriously
smooth ride that took them along a narrow coastal road. Their
southward course followed a rugged shore line, giving her brief
glances of the rock-strewn beaches below. Looking away from the
turbulent sea, she saw only sparsely covered hills that had been
ravaged by unrelenting winds over centuries of time and were now
pocked with gaping patches of sand and limestone.

They travelled through the cheerless terrain
for some time before Elizabeth caught sight of a patch of green in
the distance. As they drew closer, she could see the green spread
over the hill and merge with a myriad of tree-covered hills beyond.
The grandeur of the great house that appeared to be their
destination and its surrounding park stood out in stark contrast to
the bleak landscape they had just passed through. Somberly,
Elizabeth took in every detail. There was nothing familiar, nothing
even remotely like her beloved Hertfordshire.

The carriage soon came to a stop. With quiet
determination, she pushed aside the painful thoughts of home and
family as she emerged into the late afternoon sun to face her
unsettled future. With genuine interest she examined the
architecture looming before her and was surprised to see the form
of a man watching their arrival from a window above. He made no
gesture of acknowledgment nor did he attempt to conceal himself as
she studied his tall, dark figure.

Looking out from the window of his study,
Robert Grissholm took another sip of wine from the glass in his
hand. He could not help a small smile at the frank examination he
had received from the woman he concluded to be Elizabeth Bennet.
Though not a classic beauty, she was handsome enough; and if her
arrival was any indication, the plan to add his own contribution to
Fitzwilliam Darcy's misery would prove to be an interesting
affair.

It was another few minutes before Grissholm
slowly drained the remaining wine in his glass and set it aside.
With a quick shrug to adjust the cut of his coat against his broad
shoulders, he headed for the drawing room and the task that awaited
him there.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I trust I have not
kept you long.” Looking to the older of the two women, he added,
“You are Mrs. Younge, I presume.”

“Yes, Lord Grissholm, I am,” Younge
answered, somewhat awed by the grandeur of the house and its
imposing master.

“I hope your journey was pleasant?”

“Oh, yes, sir. You are so good to inquire.
Our journey was uneventful and we made good time, although the
roads were a bit rough - the post, you know - but we are happy to
have arrived safely.” Realizing from the stern expression on his
face that she was on the verge of babbling, Mrs. Younge turned
and gestured toward Elizabeth. “Your Lordship, may I introduce
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Bennet.” He gave a small bow in
her direction, and she made her curtsey.

“Your Lordship. I am pleased to make your
acquaintance.”

A shock of surprise crossed her face as she
rose to see him boldly examining her. Struggling to maintain a
civil expression in the face of his intimate scrutiny, she looked
away, unconsciously arching her brow in a rather provocative
manner.

Grissholm cleared his throat and his mind as
he returned to the matter at hand and motioned for the ladies to be
seated.

“I shall come directly to the point,
Miss Bennet. You have been engaged to act as companion for my
ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. You are expected to attend her here at
Everton each day and accompany her to any social engagements in the
neighborhood that I may accept on her behalf. She has been schooled
in all the usual accomplishments necessary for a young lady of her
standing; however, she is to be presented next spring and must
posses a greater degree of poise and self-confidence than she has
at present if she is to get on in society.” He then leveled a
knowing look at Elizabeth as he finished. “Something I am certain
you are more than capable of teaching her.”

“I understand, my lord – I shall do my best
to help her,” Elizabeth's reply was suitably contrite in her
attempt to amend the poor beginning, but it mattered little to him
that she had displayed a lively spirit. It would be tempered soon
enough.

“As for your living arrangements, Mrs. Moore
shall instruct you in the rules of the house. I expect you to
conform to our routine as quickly as possible.”