Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

ELIZABETH WAS SHAKING .

They were in the carriage, with fresh horses that David had procured, and they were driving.

David had packed them a luncheon, cold cuts of meat, some cheese, and bread. Mary was eating, unaffected, gazing out the window.

Elizabeth was shaking.

“Oh, Lizzy, your expression,” muttered Mary. “I don’t know what you thought we were going to find out.”

“Not that,” said Elizabeth, breathless. She felt as if she were even now struggling against a gale of a violent storm, as if to simply exist was too much for her.

“It is not so bad as all that,” said Mary. “I think the plan continues as before. We obviously will not reveal that our mother made a mistake with Benlolk, but we can use Mrs. Widebottom’s declaration that there was no ongoing affair to quell the worst of the rumors, and—”

“No,” said Elizabeth, still breathless. “No, we won’t draw attention to it, for there is a scandal to uncover, and it shall be uncovered if we do.”

“Yes, but there is no way anyone will find that out.”

“You’re going to bring Mrs. Widebottom into it, so someone will speak to her, and she will know that we are the only people she has spoken to about it. The way you questioned her about it, she must know your intentions. She will be quite happy to share the rest of it.”

“I don’t know that she will,” said Mary with a shrug.

“You heard her. She doesn’t care about reputation,” said Elizabeth. “It means nothing to her. She would not care one jot about ruining us, because she places no value on being respectable. No, no, Mary, we must let this all go. We shall bear up against the rumors. They are not entirely true, but there is enough truth there. It is better to let it go.” Elizabeth wanted to cry.

Mary sighed. “We’ll talk of this later. Eat something. You are probably faint from hunger and therefore cannot think clearly.”

Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. “What if she made it up? What if she simply did it to get back at us for coming to her house unannounced, shabbily dressed, asking probing questions, treating her badly? What if she simply wanted to hurt us? She spoke of her loneliness, and so she must harbor some resentment, and perhaps—”

“Oh, she did not seem resentful at all.” Mary gave her a look, as if Elizabeth were quite stupid.

“Yes, but—”

“Lizzy, it makes sense. It all makes sense now. It explains everything.”

Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to admit this.

“Even the way our parents are together, the way our mother seems to harp on him, the way she gets angry with him, it all adds up. Of course she needles him to take her to town or to spend extravagantly. Some part of her thought that would be her life, and it was taken from her by a man who treated her very badly.”

“No, she brought this on herself, if it’s true,” said Elizabeth. “There is no one to blame but our mother. She should never have been so free with a man who was not her husband.”

“I’m sure it was difficult. He probably pressed her. She was probably smitten with him. Look at our mother, her station in life, getting the attention of a man like that. She would have wished to please him, to do what she could to secure him. She would have felt it dangerous to refuse, undoubtedly.”

“Mary, you are the most scrupulous of us all,” said Elizabeth. “You are the one who would be the most exacting about what is right and what is wrong.”

“I have explained that was a strategy,” said Mary. “I had nothing else to recommend me.”

“So, you are saying that you never believed in any of it? You pretended to have a strong sense of morality in order to recommend yourself? Is that it?”

“Pretended is a strong word,” said Mary. “It was expedient. I find it expedient now to have a bit of looseness in interpretation. Whatever the case, decrying our mother’s behavior does nothing for us. If we disown her, we are far worse off than otherwise.”

Elizabeth supposed this was true, but she’d had no intention of disowning her own mother.

Abruptly, the carriage came to a stop.

Elizabeth looked out the window and Mary did too. There was nothing to see outside but the road and the trees.

They waited a moment.

“I’m sure we’ll get going again soon,” said Mary. “David is very good with horses and at driving carriages, you know.”

“You are doing untoward things with him,” said Elizabeth in a horrified voice. “You have allowed that man—that overgrown boy—to trample on your virtue—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Mary. “I am not marrying a stable hand. Didn’t I tell you I want a title?” She smirked.

“I thought you were being ironic.”

“Oh, I was,” said Mary, sighing. “What I want is freedom, Elizabeth, and I shall take whatever path leads me there.”

What did that mean? Freedom from what? Freedom to do what?

Elizabeth decided the carriage had been stopped for too long. She opened the door to look outside. Then she saw the problem. A tree had fallen down across the road.

David was on the ground, squinting at it. He turned around. “Ah, Miss Elizabeth. It’s fine. We’ll go round. I am sure the carriage can manage.”

“Go round where?” Elizabeth thought the trees were too close to the road to see any easy avenue.

“You let me worry about that, madam,” he said cheerily. “Back in there with you.”

Elizabeth retreated into the carriage. “There is a fallen tree,” she told Mary.

“Oh,” said Mary, scooting over to open the door herself. She and David conversed about the tree, and he admonished her to get back inside, which Mary eventually did.

After some time, the carriage began to move again.

They felt the carriage bump as they left the road. The ground beneath them was different than the road, and they bounced and rattled about, clinging to the seats as best they could.

Outside the window, Elizabeth could see they were moving around the fallen tree and closer and closer to the trees. Branches protruded into the windows, which were open due to the summer heat.

Elizabeth let out a tiny yelp as the branches scraped about inside.

They continued on for a bit, and then they came to another stop.

They could hear David outside, calling to the horses, urging them onward.

There was a terrible jolt, and the carriage strained, pulling forward in such a way that unseated Elizabeth, sending her tumbling to the other side.

The hamper of food overturned, spilling all over the floor.

The carriage settled back down hard. At the same time, there was a loud cracking noise.

Then came the sound of David swearing loudly.

Elizabeth and Mary exchanged a glance. What had happened?

Mary opened the door.

They both peered out.

There were the horses, all attached together, galloping off into the distance.

David was down and running after them.

The crack must have meant that something had broken in the horse harness, which attached the horses to the carriage.

Elizabeth’s heart sank.

They were stranded.