Bad Miss Bennet (35 page)

He removed my hand with an impatient gesture. ‘That would not be possible. I have a wife already.'

I gasped and flushed with fury. Such deceit! Men are deceivers all.

When I had controlled myself a little I remarked in a low voice, ‘It is strange that you have never mentioned this before, sir. I had taken you for a gentleman.' It was the Count's turn to appear flushed and furious.

‘If you were a man I would call you out for that remark, my dear.'

‘If I were a man I would accept the challenge gladly. Now, kindly set me down in the next town. Our association is at an end.' The Count ignored my request.

‘It is essential that you return with me, at least for a while. I will explain my reasons in due course.' I regarded him through narrowed eyes as a thought struck me.

‘Are your reasons anything to do with a certain Captain Marshfield?' His expression did not change but he adopted a guarded tone.

‘Marshfield … what do you know of Marshfield?'

More than you think
, I told myself. ‘We have met socially on occasion,' I said.

‘I do not know this Marshfield,' the Count said staring fixedly out of the window. As it was obvious that we were both lying, I gave up and attempted to read. I do not know why men bother with deceit when women are wise to the smallest signs.

Miles had once told me that all the countries of Europe spied on each other and sometimes exchanged information. It seemed very schoolboyish behaviour to me.

At this point my companion decided to tell me the truth. It appeared that we were not bound for Vienna at all.

‘You lied to the Princess of Wales,' I reminded him.

He shrugged. ‘It could not be helped. I have an important mission here in Italy that concerns you directly.' My stomach churned with rage and apprehension. Would there ever be an end to these assignments? I returned to the fray.

‘Do my wishes mean nothing to you, sir? I
need
to return to my friends in Paris.'

The Count would not hear of this. His conscience appeared to be making him uncomfortable. With a sudden change of mood he smiled insincerely. ‘I wish to be of real service to you, my dear. I can arrange a situation for you that will advance your standing considerably.'

A situation … what could he mean, surely not a position as companion to a broken down Italian dowager instead of a Bathonian? No, that would not advance my standing in any way. Did he intend to pass me on to a fellow aristocrat? Such things were not unknown. Filled with curiosity and foreboding I listened reluctantly as he continued, my mind set on writing to Miles and Selena.

I would return to Paris with or without the Count's permission.

I became aware that he had managed to open a bottle of champagne that he was endeavouring to spill into two glasses as the coach lurched along.

‘I owe you an apology, dear Lydia. I am distraught that our association has become, shall we say, detached. I invited you to join me and I must in some way repay you.' His distress did not seem at all apparent to me.

‘What can you mean? I do not require you to offer me money,' I said stiffly, although I am never averse to such suggestions. I accepted the glass of champagne.

‘I am offering you a new life, my dear – in royal circles.' My eyes widened.

‘Royal circles?' I echoed, remembering my previous forays in such places.

‘The Emperor's daughter, Archduchess Leopoldina, is to be married to the heir to the Portuguese throne, Dom Pedro. She has already left Vienna and is now waiting in Genoa with her entourage, ready to embark on a Portuguese ship. She requires an English speaking lady-in-waiting. I have recommended you. You will be presented to her in a few days. I am sure she will find you satisfactory.'

I felt quite dizzy at this news and quaffed another glass of champagne. ‘You are suggesting, then, that I leave for Portugal?'

The Count fidgeted a little and looked embarrassed. ‘Wait until you have met the Archduchess and then decide. It would be a golden opportunity for you to move in the highest circles and you will certainly escape the tedium of my company.' He gave a strained smile and gazed out of the window.

I was utterly discombobulated by this, as Adelaide would say. My mind was disarrayed – did I want to enter royal circles officially? My previous encounters with both the Prince Regent and his wife had been eccentric and unofficial to say the least. Perhaps the Count was right and this could be a golden opportunity for me. How I would enjoy informing my relatives of my new status. On the other hand, the Count may have some nefarious purpose in mind. One cannot trust anyone, least of all men.

I mused on this as we travelled on to Genoa where I was deposited in an apartment in another crumbling palazzo. The Count would call for me when I was summoned to see the Archduchess. Hastily, I considered my wardrobe and my toilette. In order to look my best I instructed Adelaide to wash and anoint my hair. First of all she applied the whisked up whites of six eggs and I sat patiently until the concoction had dried. Then she removed the egg white and washed my locks in rum and rosewater so that my chestnut curls appeared glossy and sweet smelling.

Then there was the question of what I should wear. What would be suitable in the circumstances? I decided on pale grey silk edged with grey velvet and a black straw bonnet. I would dearly have loved to take the chinchilla muff but it did not seem appropriate. I wore Getheridge's little gold watch for luck.

As we drove to the palace I was so nervous I clasped my gloved hands tightly to prevent them from shaking. Clutching my best parasol with the ivory handle I followed the Count to the princess's apartments. As I curtsied to her the Count made a long introduction in German. If only I could understand what was being said.

Dona Leopoldina, as she will be known, was fair, composed, intelligent and gracious. She addressed me in perfect English with great warmth, inviting me to sit. We talked about England, my home county and my family. She commiserated with me over my husband's death at Waterloo.

‘How proud you must be.'

‘Indeed ma'am!' I replied with feeling.

‘I think we will deal very well together, Mrs Wickham, do you not agree? Will you accompany me? It will be for two years, after that you may reconsider your position.' I found that I was grinning foolishly and agreeing enthusiastically. What larks!

‘I have always wanted to see Portugal,' I remarked gaily. The princess looked puzzled and turned to the Count. ‘Does she not know?' The Count flushed and began to fidget.

‘I may not have been completely explicit in the matter, Your Highness.' Seeing my startled expression Dona Leopoldina explained. ‘We will not be going to Portugal. The Portuguese court removed to Brazil in its entirety ten years ago. It has remained there ever since.' She smiled at me. ‘It will be a great adventure for us all.'

I can scarcely recall how I left the royal presence: a wave of giddiness swept over me as I toppled into a curtsey. The Count held me in an iron grip and half carried me out of the chamber. I recovered my senses in the carriage. ‘You traitor,' I snarled, ‘you have sold me into service on the far side of the world!'

He started to splutter excuses but everything was becoming clear to me. I was the victim of a conspiracy between Captain Marshfield and the Count and who knew what else? I was an embarrassment, I knew too much – about Von Mecks, the emeralds, the Prince Regent and his wife, the Count, the price of fish …

I gasped for air and began to bawl uncontrollably, arriving at the apartment red faced and raw of throat. Adelaide attended to me as the Count drove away with my curses ringing in his ears. She waved burnt feathers under my nose and administered eau de cologne to my forehead.

‘I am being sent to Brazil!' I cried. ‘Stay with me, Adelaide, I have no-one else.'

‘Where's Brazil?' she asked, ‘is it near Australia?' I nodded wildly.

‘How long will we be at sea?'

‘About three months.' We both collapsed onto a sofa and sobbed.

Chapter Thirty-Three

It was ever so, dear reader. Whenever my future appeared rosier than usual a black cloud would appear to cast its shadow over my life. In this instance the black cloud was larger than I could ever have imagined. I, poor little Lydia Marianne Bennet Wickham, who had never ventured farther than the shores of the Mediterranean, was to be cast adrift on the other side of the world. It was by no means certain that I would survive the journey to Brazil, let alone return in two years.

Of course, this sad state of affairs was due to the perfidious nature of the man … men with whom I had become involved. It did not seem possible that a good man would ever cross my path. I should have remembered the story of
Vancenza, Or the Dangers of Credulity
, which I read some time ago. The plight of a royal mistress in that tale should have taught me something. Perhaps I should have settled for a boring curate after all, but I had no doubt that even that arrangement would have ended in disaster.

It was a wet, cold Monday morning in my heart. Even after we collected ourselves and Adelaide urged me to look on the bright side I could not lift the weight from my spirits. Details of the journey were sent to me from the palace. I needed to bring adequate clothing and other provisions for a three month journey at least, in which fresh water would be scarce and very rough weather could be expected. The ever practical Adelaide urged me to ‘make a run for it' to Paris but I could not in all conscience do such a thing, having given my word to a royal princess. In addition I would run straight into Captain Marshfield who would find me even if I had ventured into darkest Africa.

Of course, he knew my whereabouts exactly and I was not unduly surprised to find a messenger from the British Embassy at my door a few days later. I was more surprised when I read the letter which assured me that the fee due to me for my efforts in Italy would be held in trust for me until I returned to Europe. I tore the letter up in a fury. So they had decided to pay what was owed to me but in such a manner that I might never be able to claim it. Such perfidy. After all I had done for the Regent (in various ways). This was how patriotism was repaid by the British government.

It was more than likely that I would never return from Brazil. Apart from the immense journey there were surely all manner of dangers awaiting me in that country. The wildlife was probably beyond imagination. I recalled the strange Portuguese lord and his monkey. I was in such a fury that I could have craunched a marmoset myself at that moment. Instead, I contented myself with tearing up the Count's love letter and flinging the pieces into the gutter.

Reluctantly, we began to make preparations. I changed my small fortune from Mrs Makepiece into gold pieces for transportation in a stout chest with iron locks. I wondered if it would vanish overboard in a storm taking my security with it – or whether it would be stolen by pirates and savages.

Dona Leopoldina summoned me for another discussion about Brazil. She had read a great deal about the country and described its great beauty, its vast forests and exotic flora and fauna. The country swarmed with primitive peoples and millions of African slaves. Diamonds were to be found as easily as eggs in an English farmyard. This news comforted me a little.

‘The climate is fierce and may be difficult to contend with, but we will become accustomed to it,' she assured me. So far I have heard little that encourages me, except for the diamonds.

Adelaide compiled a huge laundry list. I required dozens of chemises, petticoats, stockings and other items of intimate wear, as well as yards and yards of muslin and other flimsy materials. There will apparently be little opportunity for washing clothes on the voyage, or for washing ourselves, I fear. I dared not contemplate how our basic needs would be met on board ship. In addition, Adelaide had it on good authority that Portuguese women are not acquainted with the use of tooth brushes. Their company at close quarters will be most unpleasant.

As I watched Adelaide pack supplies of Gardner's Alternative Pills against worms of all sorts, and a liberal supply of Floris's orange blossom toilet water to disguise bodily odours, my heart sank further into my boots. When would I ever wear my chinchilla muff again? It had been put into storage with many of my heavier items of clothing. My journal entries were once again lapsing into melancholia.

I was told that ginger was a sovereign remedy against sea sickness. My maid procured as much as she was able but it was barely enough to see us out of European waters. The entire ginger supply in the city had been commandeered by the Imperial party. During those last few days my only pleasure was in writing to Pemberley and Longbourn with news of my elevation into royal circles. I hoped that it would cause my brother-in-law to choke on his pheasant at the very least.

On the day before we left the city I was required to attend a service at the cathedral to bring blessings on the affianced couple. Dona Leopoldina has, naturally, never seen her future husband. Perhaps that was wisest for all concerned. Propinquity guarantees nothing. When the carriages rolled out of the palace courtyard I caught sight of the Count waving adieu with a sheepish smile on his face.

His parting gift to me was a handsome mahogany medicine chest with silver topped bottles. In the circumstances his choice showed the greatest effrontery. He obviously believed that I would not survive the journey or, at the very least, I would need all the concoctions therein as a matter of necessity: so much for erstwhile lovers.

I noted that the chest had been obtained from Savory and Moore of Bond Street, London. Adelaide and I wept when we saw the label. Oh, dear departed home! I turned away and contemplated my new duties. I was to speak only in English at all times to Dona Leopoldina. As I did not speak German I could not communicate with the other ladies in waiting. All of them were aristocrats who treated me as someone beneath their notice.