Page 18 of Secrets Across the Sea
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 7
“Lady Charmane!” Elizabeth called, the woman in question all but running into her study; Elizabeth fast on her heels.
“Lady Charmane!” she called again, her voice stilling as she rounded the corner and skidded to a stop.
Empty.
The room was empty.
But… how? Elizabeth mused, her brow furrowing as she searched the empty space. She had seen her come into THIS room. Surely?
Checking behind the curtains, desk, and any other place a woman might hide should she choose, Elizabeth came to a halt in the center of the room, hands set on her hips as she studied the space around her.
Nothing appeared out of place. Either the lady had not entered as she had thought, or the house had secrets.
Giving the room one last search, Elizabeth’s lips thinned as she again found nothing amiss.
“Another day then, Lady Charmane, and we will have our talk,” Elizabeth muttered as she exited the empty space, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Stilling, she looked over her shoulder, the room as empty as she expected.
Why are we here? she frowned as she continued on her way. And why all this secrecy?
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Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 8
A book beside her, a warm, tall cup of chocolate in hand, and the puffiest blanket known to man, these were all Elizabeth required. Well, those and the roaring fire and the glow of candles as she nestled in her bed, lips curling as her thoughts took an agreeable turn.
Mr. Darcy… how he had managed to find a way into her thoughts seemed beyond comprehension. Often they were in company, yes, but even after they parted ways, there he was, fixed in her head and heart like a star in the sky. His voice, his face, even that tiny mark over his right brow; each she was far too accustomed to. Far too fond of. Why, just three days ago, when they had been close to one another as they rode along, she often found her gaze drawn by him rather than the view they had been in search of.
Breath slow and steady as she soaked in the warmth of the cup in her hand, Elizabeth stared downward.
If only that odious baron had not been along. They might have enjoyed conversing with her sisters instead of sitting in that awkward silence. Frowning, Elizabeth pulled the blanket upward. Poor Mary… imagine, forced to sit beside Lord Ramsgate!
He was up to something. He had to be. Ever since that morning when he had pushed his way into joining them, he had been attentive to them all… too attentive, and to Mary especially. That fact alone made no sense, for they had fought at every turn. No, there was no reason for his attentions. In everything, Mary had given Lord Ramsgate the opposite of encouragement, and in response he had argued with her all the more–until three days past, of course.
Taking a sip of her chocolate, Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed.
Lady Charmane had to have spoken to him before he came out that day; before he had begun his strange change to the character he portrayed. He had said that Lady Charmane had only then made known their plans. But what else could she have said to shift his character so? Unless, of course, he discovered something between the night before and that morning, and only found the outing to be a convenient beginning to his plan? Whatever that plan happened to be? And whatever it was he knew or thought he knew, that made their company of worth?
“If only it might make sense,” she sighed, the fingers rubbing her temple stilling as her gaze moved toward the door, the sight of her sister peeking in welcome. “Come in Mary… oh, and Jane, I did not see you there. Please, come in. I could use someone to talk to, for I doubt I shall be able to keep my mind on my book.”
“Shakespearean poems?” Jane questioned incredulously. “I thought you hated Shakespeare; at least, you never enjoyed it when we had to study his works.”
“Reading because you want to rather than because you have to always makes any title far more agreeable,” she laughed, her sisters each finding a comfortable place in her bed.
“Did I hear you talking to yourself?” Mary asked as she sunk deeper into the place between her sisters.
Nodding, Elizabeth frowned. “It is Lord Ramsgate. And Lady Charmane for that matter. His actions I admit puzzle me exceedingly; he is self-important and not fond of untitled gentry, so why does he suddenly favour us?” Nose twitching, she added angrily, “As for Lady Charmane, she is even worse. Every time I have tried to seek out her company, she has managed to be too busy, or supper is ready, or some other excuse has been fashioned. Have either of you done better?”
Shaking their heads, Mary and Jane echoed her own aggravations.
“I have taken to avoiding rooms whenever possible should I see Lord Ramsgate inside,” Mary admitted. “It is the full opposite to Lady Charmane; I feel as if she has taken to avoiding me. Indeed, I saw her enter the library once, but by the time I entered she had vanished from sight!”
“Hiding behind the curtains or some such seems odd, even for an eccentric such as she,” Jane remarked as she pulled the covers higher. “But I agree, she is only ever in a room with me when there is a large group. A pity the same could not be true for you, Mary, regarding Lord Ramsgate.”
“A pity indeed,” Mary chuckled haplessly. “Though… as far as our host is concerned, she has not taken to hiding behind curtains. I searched the room thoroughly–even going so far as to look behind curtains and furniture–and she was nowhere to be seen.”
Brows pulling inward, Elizabeth wet her lips as she set her cup down to better face her sisters. “Only last night I saw Lady Charmane in the hall and followed her. I could have sworn she made her way into her study, but when I followed, she was nowhere to be seen. At the time I thought perhaps I had simply been mistaken–well, that or something truly strange was going on–yet with your encounter, Mary, I must have been right.”
“Secret hideaways perhaps? Or servants’ passages?” Jane suggested, the questions left hanging in the air as the sisters considered the great lady’s motives.
Staring toward the fire, Elizabeth shook her head. “Why would she hide from us? The existence of passageways or whatever has allowed her to play this trick is one thing, but she has no reason to hide from us.”
“No reason that we know of,” Mary said simply.
“Could it be as you say, Elizabeth, a trick? She is eccentric,” Jane suggested.
“Perhaps the three of us ought to corner her,” Elizabeth proposed as she leaned toward her sisters. “One of us is easy enough to avoid, but if the three of us seek her out we may find the answers we want. Even if she does not know about Mamma's relations, Mamma supposedly wanted us to know this Lady Charmane… and I for one need to honour that wish.”
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Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 9
“I am sorry we cannot join you three,” Jane commented truthfully, the offer of a ride with their three gentlemen friends far more appealing than forcing their company on their host.
“Oh, are you three engaged already?” Mr. Bingley asked, his face wreathed in lines as his gaze flitted toward the lone gentleman in the area filling his plate–Reverend Moore.
“Not quite,” Elizabeth answered with a laugh. “We merely need to speak to our host on a personal matter. Should all go well, little more than the morning will pass before we are disengaged.”
“Then you might be open to a walk?” Mr. Darcy proffered, the cup in his hand lowering to the table.
“If you three are not put off by our being unable to give you a specific time, then… yes,” Elizabeth answered as she viewed her sisters, the bright faces of both confirming her suspicions– they did not mind her acceptance.
“Not in the slightest,” Mr. Darcy nodded, the crinkle of the Reverend’s paper creating a slight pause. “Aside from the ride we are about to enjoy, we have no commitments to speak of; whenever you are free, simply let us know.”
Picking up her buttered toast, Elizabeth leaned toward Mr. Darcy to answer before the loud, whinging voice behind her stole her attention.
“Charles! Whatever are you doing? You promised to speak to me today of your plans… you know, for that ‘small’ purchase you are insisting upon making.”
“Caroline,” Mr. Bingley answered tersely. “I have not even finished breaking my fast, and I promised Fitz and Darcy a ride long before I told you we might speak of this today. It can wait an hour or two!” Whispering he added, “You recall I never gave a time.”
“Oh, very well. If you insist upon dirtying your wardrobe and catching a chill to keep your ‘promise.’ I suppose some promises you deem of greater importance than others; such as those you have a mind to keep!”
Whirling from the room, her skirts billowing behind her as much as the fashions allowed, Miss Bingley departed as quickly as she came; a stunned brother left in her wake.
“I apologize. Perhaps I did not make myself as clear to Caroline as I could have… though, given my decision, she will be little pleased when I do speak with her later.”
Setting his fork down, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “A brisk ride should shake these worries from you. Come. The sooner we leave, the sooner we might enjoy a walk with these fine ladies–only if they are finished with their task of course.”
“And me, mine,” Mr. Bingley sighed as he stood up. “Though I assure you, I shall not allow Caroline to dictate my life… no matter how loudly she decries my decision.”
Patting Mr. Bingley on the back, the Colonel smirked, “A backbone at long last. I rather like this new Bingley.”
“Amusing,” he bit back, “too amusing.” Turning toward the sisters, he gave a light bow, “Ladies, until later.”
“Until later,” Jane echoed, her cheeks brightening as she observed him.
Bowing, the other gentlemen gave their polite assurances of their anticipation for their walk before they filed out of the room, Jane’s eyes fixed to Mr. Bingley until he turned the corner.
“Come,” Elizabeth said, her lips pulling as she fought a smile, “it is time we begin our plan.”
Nodding, the sisters rose from the table, the Reverend standing as they did before quickly returning to his seat–the warm breakfast and paper of greater interest than they.
Minutes later, standing in the corner of the library, they waited for Lady Charmane.
Jane had observed her visiting the room around ten most days, and, bar bribing one of her staff, that seemed their best option to happen upon her. At least their presence would not be considered odd. For all their thoughts of planting themselves in her study, it would only take one member of staff and pfft, that would be an end to it.
One hand flat and the other having two fingers pass over it as if walking, Mary warned of an incoming visitor.
Lady Charmane, if they had any luck.
Hopefully they would prove successful in speaking to her and not have to hide in wait again.
“Ah, the Miss Bennets,” Mr. Thomson cooed as he rounded the corner, the three sisters huddled together.
Standing further behind Jane, Elizabeth reached back, fingers pulling over the row of books until one that had not quite been shelved properly reached her hand. Clasping the book and drawing it to her, she shifted forward, a warm smile on her face.
“Mr. Thomson, what a pleasure. My sisters and I were settling a debate.”
“Debate?”
“Yes, in regard to this book,” she supplied as she pulled the tome from behind her, the title far from what she might have wished. “Jane thought it was Johnson who wrote it… Mary, Kant… and I, I favoured Mary’s view. Poor Jane, she has been found mistaken in this, though she did correct us on the title. I thought it was Answers to Enlightenment , but no, she said it was An Answer to the Question: What Is Enlightenment? and she was correct.”
“Johnson?” Mr. Thomson taunted. “Which Johnson did she think wrote it, pray tell? I cannot think of any Johnson which might have written on enlightenment.”
“No,” Elizabeth answered, “I do not suppose you would. Now then, we have promised a stroll to several gentlemen and would not wish to see them kept waiting.”
“Oh? The Reverend mentioned that they were off on a ride; I did not think they would be returned so soon?”
“We must change before we can meet them,” Jane said with a lift of her chin. “If you will excuse us.”
“Of course,” he bowed. “As you say.”