Chapter Fourteen
21 June, 1812
Rosings Park, Kent
Lady Rebecca had never awoken so unpleasantly in the whole course of her life. Cold water assaulted her face and her thick, curly hair clung to her as she sat up with a jolt to the screeching of her furious aunt.
“Where is she, Rebecca? My daughter is not here. You have deceived me most egregiously! It is not to be borne! Tell me at once where Elizabeth has gone!”
Rebecca rubbed at her eyes and groaned. “Good Lord, what hour is it?”
“Your last,” she thundered, “If you do not tell me at once where my supposedly ill daughter is!”
“I will not! I gave her my word.”
“I think I can guess where she has gone – to be with that insidious, grasping nobody! And I suppose you have concocted this little scheme for her to feign illness and flee, for though I have received daily updates from the physician, my housekeeper informs me that he never set foot in the house!”
Rebecca folded her arms in front of her chest as she sat back against her plush pillows. “If you have come to such conclusions already, I wonder what you need to ask of me.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes flashed with sheer hellfire. “Is this all the reply I am to expect? Insolent girl! I am Elizabeth’s guardian, and I have a right to know where she is, and who she is with. She has the reputation of her sister and her young cousin Georgiana to consider – and even your own, though you care little for it.”
Rebecca arched a brow and gave a little shrug of agreement on that score, which only further incensed her aunt. “Rebecca Louise Fitzwilliam, I demand you get your lazy arse out of that bed at once, and account for yourself! You are not a marchioness yet, and you are a guest in my home!”
Rebecca held her aunt’s stare for a minute or two before she slowly turned and extricated herself from her luxurious bedding. She stood in the sodden night rail and glared defiantly at her aunt. “Do you care nothing for Elizabeth’s happiness?”
“How dare you ask me such a question,” Lady Catherine hissed. “I love that girl with all my heart, though it may amuse you to think I do not have one. Surely this must be why you have allowed me to believe for three days that she is ill. You have let me fret over her every hour; it is you who are unfeeling, Rebecca, and I will not tolerate it.”
“So sick with worry that you still elected to travel to Beaumont Hall so that you would not be denied a say in the wedding preparations?”
“Wretched, diabolical hoyden! How dare you! The whole family has been distressed by your careless falsehoods, and when I find my daughter, I shall tell her the very same. You have not denied that she has gone to that good-for-nothing social climber, and I shall find her.Youwill be dealt with later, when I am not so full of violence.”
“She is probably halfway to Scotland by now. You cannot possibly hope to recover her.”
Lady Catherine gave her a parting grimace and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her, and a moment later Rebecca heard a key turning in the lock. She flew to the door and pulled with all her might, but she was too late. Her aunt had locked her in. She pounded on the door. “Let me out! Let her be with him, you wicked old harpy! Let her be happy!”
As Rebecca tired of pounding on the door, a maid entered from a side door with a breakfast tray. “Begging your pardon, milady; we all heard the shouting, and I thought I might bring your breakfast up before I was told not to.”
Lady Rebecca grinned wolfishly at the girl. “How exceedingly enterprising. What is your name?”
“Emily, your ladyship.” The maid set the tray down and bobbed into a very smooth curtsey.
“Emily, you have been exceedingly obliging already; I wonder if you should like a chance to continue impressing me. I have a letter I need sent in the utmost haste and secrecy.”
Emily smiled. “I can manage that. My mother is ill, and my little brother came with me to work this morning. He’s rather a nuisance and won’t be missed – I should think the housekeeper and cook will be relieved if he should wander off.”
“What age is he? Old enough and sensible enough to manage it well, if there is a sovereign in it for you?”
Emily straightened her shoulders and faced Lady Rebecca boldly. “His discretion can be trusted, but….”
Rebecca was already rummaging through her drawer, where she had hidden the letter of warning she had written in advance, cleverly prepared for just such a crisis as this. "But what?”
“Well, if it’s linked back to me, I could lose my place.”
“Three sovereigns, then.”
Emily wrung her hands. “My father just died, you see, and my mother has been ill. My sister works in the kitchen, but the rest of us are too young to earn.”
“Five pounds, if the housekeeper can confirm that what you say is true – and if you can see that I am not starved while I am locked away. That is my final offer, and if you decline it, I am sure one of the other maids shall soon make you envy her good fortune in my esteem.”
