Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

would not dare to defy him. Rose’s words—‘my inclinations…do not count’—came back to her. It certainly seemed to be true of the mistress at that moment.

      She could run away, but that would break her mother’s heart; besides, if she just disappeared, Mama would have half the ton out looking for her, not to mention Runners and constables and it would not be fair to worry her so. And it would make no difference in the long run; she would be hauled back in disgrace and she was quite sure it would not put Lord Bentwater off, for hadn’t Sir George said the man enjoyed a challenge? It was almost dawn before she fell into a restless sleep and then her dreams were of huge black spiders and struggling in a sticky web from which she could not escape.

      It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when a hand shook her awake again. ‘Sweetheart, wake up.’

      She woke with a half-scream; the nightmare had been very real, but it was her mother standing over her with a lighted candle. She was wearing a dressing gown over her nightgown and her hair hung loosely about her shoulders. ‘Shh, not so loud, my love.’

      ‘What’s wrong, Mama? What time is it?’

      ‘Just after five o’clock.’

      ‘Five! Couldn’t you sleep?’

      ‘No.’ She sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Emma, I cannot let you go to that dreadful man. You must leave. Now, before George wakes up.’

      ‘But where will we go?’

      ‘We? I cannot go with you, child. My place is with my husband.’

      ‘I cannot leave you. I want to escape that dreadful man, but the thought of leaving you behind is not to be borne.’

      ‘You must. If we both go, we shall attract attention and George will find us and make us come back. It must look as though you have gone alone. I shall deny all knowledge of your intentions.’ She opened Emma’s wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. ‘I’ve spoken to Rose and she has agreed to go with you. As soon as you are safe arrived, she can go to her mother. If George asks to question her, I shall tell him I obeyed his instructions and turned her off.’ She was throwing garments on the bed as she spoke. ‘There is nothing suitable here. You cannot go dressed as a lady, that would be asking for someone to become suspicious and if it becomes known Sir George is looking for you, especially if he offers a reward, you will soon be brought back.’

      ‘Mama, do stop throwing my clothes about and come and sit down again. Where am I to go and how will I travel? And how will you know I am safe?’

      Lady Tasker sat down and took her daughter’s hands. ‘You will go by stage to a very old friend of mine who lives in Kendal in Cumbria. Her name is Mrs Amelia Summers. I have had no 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.