Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ correspondence with her since I remarried and Sir George knows nothing about her, so he will not think of her. I have no money for a hired chaise and besides, like elegant clothes, it would only cause comment. I will give you all the money I have and the pearls your father left for your twenty-first birthday. George knows nothing about them. I’ve kept them hidden. You’ll have to sell them or perhaps pawn them. You never know, we might have a stroke of luck and be able to redeem them.’

      Emma realised that would only come about if Sir George became ill and died, but, as he was disgustingly healthy and never exerted himself, that prospect seemed far distant. ‘Mama, I am not at all sure I should agree to this.’

      ‘Do you want to marry that dreadful man?’

      ‘You know I do not. But I am afraid for you.’

      ‘Sir George will not harm me. There is no other way and we are wasting time.’ She handed Emma an envelope. ‘Here is the letter to Mrs Summers and here, in this purse, is the necklace and twenty guineas. I have no more, but it should be enough for your fares and for Rose’s return fare, with some over.’

      ‘Mama, I can’t—’

      ‘Please do not argue, Emma. It has taken all my resolve to come to this and I want you to go. When you are safe arrived, write to Lady Standon, not me. You had better have a pseudonym and one Sir George will never guess. Say the first thing that comes into your head…’

      She looked about her, noticed the bed curtains and promptly said. ‘Draper. Miss Fanny Draper.’

      ‘Good. When you write to Lady Standon, be circumspect.’ She stood up, ‘Now I am going to send Rose to you. She might have something suitable for you to wear.’

      She left the room, leaving Emma shaking with the enormity of the undertaking. She had never travelled anywhere alone before and never on a public coach. But it was not so much that that made her hesitate, it was the thought of leaving her mother. But perhaps it would not be for long. Perhaps Sir George, when he realised how determined she was, would relent and she could come home again. She left her bed and poured cold water from the jug on her washstand into a bowl and washed her face.

      She was brushing her hair when Rose crept into the room. ‘I’ve brought a dress of mine for you to wear on the journey,’ she whispered. ‘But you had better take a few garments of your own for when you arrive. I’ll pack them while you dress. We can’t take more than a carpet bag, considering we will have to carry it.’

      ‘Rose, am I doing the right thing?’

      ‘Yes. Now do not trouble yourself over the rights and wrongs of it, for the wrong is all with Sir George. We must hurry before the rest of the house stirs.’ She finished the packing and turned to look at Emma. A little giggle escaped from her. ‘Who is to say who is mistress and who servant now?’

      ‘I cannot get into your shoes.’

      ‘Then you must wear your own. It won’t matter.’ She picked up a cloak that had seen better days. ‘Here, put this on, the morning is chilly.’ She draped it over Emma’s shoulders and buttoned the neck. ‘It’s shabby, but that’s all to the good, we don’t want you recognised, do we? Come on, let’s be off.’

      ‘But I must say goodbye to Mama.’

      ‘She is waiting in the kitchen. We will go out of the back door.’ She picked up the carpet bag, opened the door and peered up and down the corridor. ‘All clear,’ she whispered.

      The farewell she bade her mother was tearful on both sides, but could not be prolonged in case Sir George woke and came in search of his wife. ‘Go now,’ her mother said, giving her a little push towards the outside door. ‘God keep you and bless you. Rose, look after her, won’t you?’

      ‘I’ll do my best, my lady.’ She turned to Emma. ‘Come, my lady…No, that cannot be. What are you to be called?’

      ‘Fanny Draper.’

      And so it was Lady Emma Lindsay who stepped out of Lindsay House, but Fanny Draper who linked her arm in Rose’s to walk to Lad Lane and the Swan with Two Necks.

      ‘How do you know where to catch the stage?’ Emma asked.

      ‘It is how I arrived when I came back after my mother’s last lying-in. There is nothing to it. We buy our tickets and climb aboard. I know it is not what you are used to, but think of it as an adventure. As long as no one perceives you for a lady, you should be safe enough. You will not mind if I treat you as an equal? It will look odd if I do not.’

      ‘No, of course I shall not mind. From this minute on, there is no Lady Emma, only a woman called Fanny.’

      The Swan with Two Necks was a very busy inn, with coaches coming and going all the time, disgorging and taking on passengers. There was a small ticket office to one side of the building where the two girls were obliged to stand in line for their turn to be served. Waiting was torture and Emma began to worry that there would not be seats for them. And the longer they had to wait, the more likely it was that Sir George would discover her absence and send people out searching for her. The first place he would check would be the coaching inns.

      She let Rose do the talking when they reached the little window. ‘Two inside seats to Kendal,’ she said.

      ‘No inside seats, miss. There’s two going on top. Three pounds ten shillings each and that takes you only as far as Manchester. You need another carrier to take you the rest of the way.’

      Adventurous as she was, Emma could not view the prospect of travelling outside with equilibrium. ‘Oh dear, Rose, what are we to do? Is there another coach?’

      ‘Not to Manchester,’ the man said. ‘You can go to Chester from the Golden Cross.’

      ‘But we cannot be sure of getting to Kendal from there, can we?’ she whispered to Rose.

      ‘No. Perhaps if we take the outside seats, we will be able to change them later when we have gone a little way.’

      ‘Change them now.’

      Emma swung round at the sound of the male voice, ready to take to her heels if he should prove to be an emissary of her stepfather’s. The man who faced her was at least a head taller than she was, but the rest of him was in perfect proportion: broad shoulders in a burgundy-coloured coat, slim hips, muscular legs in well-fitting pantaloons tucked into shining Hessians. She looked up into his face. His expression was proud, almost arrogant, and his startlingly blue eyes had a steely depth which indicated he was not used to being crossed. Or perhaps it was sadness; she could not be sure. He smiled and doffed his hat, revealing fair curly hair.

      ‘I beg your pardon.’ It was said haughtily. Ladies simply did not speak to men who had not been formally introduced.

      ‘Oh, no need to beg my pardon,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I can as easily ride outside as in.’

      ‘But, sir, there are two of us and only one of you.’

      ‘My man is travelling with me. We will both climb on top.’ He turned to a man who was supervising the stowing of luggage in the boot of the coach which was just then being loaded. ‘Joe, what have you done with our tickets?’

      The man reached up to his hat where two tickets were stuck in the ribbon СКАЧАТЬ