Chapter Five
The next morning dawned grey and cool, though dry. Mrs Bennet stood on the front steps of Longbourn wrapped in a shawl and issuing instructions so rapidly that Elizabeth could only nod vaguely and make reassuring noises.
"You must write the moment you arrive, for I shall not rest easy until I know you are safe. Make sure your uncle sends it express. And do not let Mrs Gardiner work you to death with the children, I do not want you losing your bloom. I suppose your aunt is a sensible woman most of the time. And if you happen to pass a milliner—"
"Mama," said Jane gently.
Elizabeth embraced her mother, who immediately became tearful and declared herself abandoned. This declaration lost some of its force when she followed it by reminding Elizabeth to look out for a particular shade of blue ribbon which could only be obtained in the capital. She also tucked into her reticule a list of items for her sisters—a book of philosophy for Mary, lace for Lydia, and paintbrushes for Kitty. Dear Jane had asked for nothing but Elizabeth would pick up some of her favourite sweets from the confectioner in Covent Garden.
Her oldest sister hugged her last. "Please take care of yourself, Lizzy," she whispered into her hair, adding, "and do not worry, I will write if I hear any gossip in the town."
Elizabeth gave Jane a final squeeze before stepping back and offering her a watery smile. With a deep breath she turned away and took Mr Bennet’s hand to step up in the carriage.
"Give my regards to your aunt and uncle, Lizzy"
"I will, Papa"
"And Lizzy?"
"Yes?"
"If London proves as exhausting as Hertfordshire, I recommend continuing on to Scotland. There are fewer people."
"Goodbye, Papa."
"Goodbye, my dear."
The carriage rolled away and Longbourn slowly disappeared behind them. Elizabeth watched it until the house was lost amongst the trees and then settled back into her seat with a long breath. For the first time in days she felt something like relief. The familiar knot between her shoulders seemed to loosen with every mile that passed beneath the wheels. Hertfordshire, Netherfield and all the anxieties that had consumed her for the past fortnight were safely behind her. Ahead lay London, heraunt and uncle and a few weeks in a household where nobody would mention Mr Darcy or scream about ribbons.
Mrs Frost proved pleasant company. She was a sensible woman in her late thirties with kind eyes and an easy manner and Elizabeth found herself liking her immediately. They spoke of Mrs Gardiner, of children and of the baby Mrs Frost was expecting. The older woman confessed that she was nervous about beginning again after so many years.
"My eldest is nearly nineteen," she said with a laugh. "I had thought that stage of my life was finished."
Elizabeth laughed.
"I imagine that you will soon be reminded of the joys of babyhood."
"Oh yes, my dear. Frost says we shall be starting all that nonsense over again. As if I require reminding."
"At least you have practice."
"That is what everyone keeps telling me, but it was honestly all so long ago that I am certain I shall be putting this mite’s napkins on backwards." She tapped her stomach with a wry smile.
Their conversation wandered comfortably from one topic to another and Elizabeth found herself content with the easycompany. She laughed and chatted, then read her book for a while while Mrs Frost took up her knitting.
By late morning, however, the weather began to change. The clouds thickened until the sky pressed low over the countryside and the light took on a strange purple haze. Frost, who had spent most of the journey cheerfully humming to himself, became noticeably quieter.
Mrs Frost followed Elizabeth’s gaze to the window. "I do not like the look of that, my dear, not one tiny bit."
The first drops of rain arrived shortly afterwards, tapping lightly against the roof of the carriage. But the rain continued to strengthen until the road outside blurred behind the glass. The carriage swayed noticeably as the road softened beneath them and pools of muddy water gathered in every rut and hollow.
A couple of times the carriage swayed violently and Mr Frost shouted back through the wind that he would find somewhere to stop and take refuge. Mrs Frost grasped Elizabeth’s hand, the other flexed protectively over her stomach. Elizabeth closed her eyes and sent up a small prayer.
Suddenly the carriage gave a terrifying lurch, throwing Elizabeth back against the squabs. Mrs Frost cried out and the carriage tilted alarmingly and for one dreadful second Elizabeth was convinced the entire thing was about to overturn. Instead it came to a shuddering halt at an odd angle. It took a few secondsfor Elizabeth to regain her equilibrium and to clear the buzzing in her ears. Before she could take stock of the situation, Mr Frost threw open the carriage door.
"Hetty!" he cried.
Elizabeth realised that Mrs Frost was crumpled on the floor of the carriage, her face paper white and blood pouring from a gash on her head. She let out a small moan, her eyelids fluttering.
