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.”
“Of course. I shall certainly work toward that end.”
After a long pause, when she realized he had nothing further to say, she ventured to speak.
“Sir, might I inquire after Miss Ballard? Should I expect to meet her soon?”
As if in answer to her questions, the door opened and an attractive, auburn-haired girl of about fifteen entered the room. First casting a short, inquisitive glance at Elizabeth, she then spied Lord Grissholm and moved quickly in his direction. In an instant, Elizabeth could see how devastatingly shy she was and it was heartrending to watch as the girl approached her guardian with timidity and downcast eyes.
“My lord, you wished to see me?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I present my ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. Rebecca, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I-I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet,” Rebecca said quietly, looking back to her guardian with apprehension and some confusion.
“I have engaged Miss Bennet as your companion. Mrs. Holiby's services are no longer required.”
Rebecca's face instantly drained of any color and her voice faded to a mere whisper. “My lord, Mrs. Holiby has been with me since I can remember! I beg of you –”
“Nevertheless, she is gone. You are nearly sixteen and no longer require a governess. You will now welcome Miss Bennet to Everton.”
Elizabeth was hard pressed to hide her dismay at his pronouncement. His lordship was obviously a man accustomed to giving direction and having it obeyed without question, but she found it profoundly disturbing that he took no notice nor showed the slightest concern for the distress he had caused.
Still alarmingly pale, Rebecca obeyed immediately in a strained, barely audible timbre. “Miss Bennet, I welcome you to Everton Manor.”
Sensing it would only make matters worse, Elizabeth stilled the impulse to reach out a comforting hand to the devastated girl. Instead, she gave her the most sincere, understanding smile she could manage in front of the viscount.
“Thank you, Miss Ballard. I very much look forward to our becoming better acquainted.”
The necessary introductions having been accomplished, Lord Grissholm brusquely dismissed the girl and turned back to the ladies with an obvious wish to be done.
“Miss Bennet, Mrs. Younge, you must be fatigued from your journey and will want to rest.”
“I would appreciate that very much, sir,” replied Elizabeth, “but I fear that Mrs. Younge must return to London immediately. Would it be too much trouble for your carriage to take her back to the post-station right away?”
“There is no need, I assure you,” said Mrs. Younge, casting a dark look in Elizabeth's direction. “I have no pressing business to speed my return.”
“You are to be commended for your devotion to duty, madam; but did you not mention your sister's illness to me just today?”
“It is nothing,” she replied with a sudden wariness. “I am sure his Lordship would want me to stay a few days and help you settle into the household before I take my leave.”
“It is very generous of you,” replied Elizabeth sweetly, “but with your sister so very ill, and her family in such desperate need of you, it would be cruel indeed to keep you detained any longer. I thank you for bringing me all this way, and rest assured that I shall not forget the kindness you have shown me.”
“She has a trifling cold,” said Mrs. Younge desperately, looking to Grissholm for support and finding none.
“You are too good to make light of your troubles, Mrs. Younge; but did not the doctor send word it was very likely pneumonia? I know how worried you must be and I would not dream of depriving your family of your sisterly devotion. I urge you to make haste though; for I believe I heard the clerk say the late post-coach departs in less than an hour.”
“But I cannot – I am not sure that –”sputtered Mrs. Younge helplessly.
“In view of these circumstances,” Grissholm cut in, obviously intrigued by Elizabeth's clever ploy to rid herself of her companion, “I would not wish to detain you a moment longer. My carriage is at your disposal.”
Mrs. Younge flushed with anger and mortification, but Lord Grissholm's presence prevented her from offering any strong response. “You are too kind to worry for me so, Miss Bennet,” she finally replied in a voice stiff with resentment. “I look forward to the pleasure of returning the favor one day.”
Lord Grissholm stood silent as Elizabeth watched her companion of five days briskly gather her things and stride angrily from the room. When the door finally closed behind Mrs. Younge, Grissholm addressed her once again.
“Your presence is not required for dinner this evening, Miss Bennet. A tray shall be sent up for you. I will, however, expect you at breakfast – seven o'clock sharp. Mrs. Moore will show you to your room now.”
A slight motion to the footman standing at the door brought a stout, dark-haired woman of about forty almost instantly.
Elizabeth was astonished that she had been dismissed so abruptly, but was at the same time grateful that she would not have to summon the energy required to appear for dinner. She followed the housekeeper out, suddenly very tired and desperately feeling the need to be alone.
Some hours later, Elizabeth sat at the ornately-carved writing desk in her room and stared at the sheet of paper before her. How much should she tell her father of her journey to Cumberland? Would it do any good to tell him of things he had no power to change? Her indecision and the effects of a satisfying meal and a relaxing bath finally gave way to a brief note simply telling him she had arrived safely and giving him directions of where to send his letters.
Wanting to have the letter posted as soon as possible, she went in search of a footman. It did not take long to find one who could accommodate her and she returned to her room straight away. Reaching the hallway outside her door, she paused on the threshold, feeling a pair of eyes upon her. Turning around, she saw Rebecca peering out from a partially open door across the hall, her deep blue eyes swollen and red from hours of crying.
Elizabeth's sympathetic smile was greeted with a sullen stare. Hoping to offer some comfort, she took a step toward the girl but the gesture was rejected with a solid thud of the closing door.