~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Much to his relief, Anne did recover—slowly. By the summer of 1797, she was as well as she would ever be.
The doctors had opined that the infection had damaged her heart and lungs so for the rest of her life, Anne would have to take care and not overexert herself. The result was that she could not walk far without feeling exhausted or speak too much without having to gasp for breaths.
So that his daughter would not be stuck close to the house due to her physical restrictions, Sir Lewis purchased her two pony-pulled phaetons. One was at Rosings Park and the other at Oak Hollow. Of course, his wife was only aware of the one in Kent.
She had railed against her husband indulgingherdaughter in such a way. Her complaints were two pronged. Firstly she thought it undignified for a daughter of hers to be driving a small carriage, and secondly, in her opinion (she was never wrong) given Anne’s delicate health, she should not leave the house, and most of the time, not even leave her bedchamber.
As he always did when his wife spouted drivel, Sir Lewis overruled the nonsense emphatically, and then ignored her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
It had taken her some years to admit her husband would not bend to her will. His ignoring her after their daughter was taken ill was the last straw for her. Hence Lady Catherine had begun to save as much of her pitiful allowance as she was able. She would have to take things into her own hands and make sure everything would be as she desired.
Her traitorous husband and family would all see she would have things as she decided they must be. All she had to do was bide her time until she was ready to take action. One of the first things she would discover is where the ‘nest of sin’ was where her husband was having his trysts with Mrs. Jenkinson—as she was sure he was.
As soon as she discovered the truth, she would know how to act!
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Hertfordshire, June 1800
Elizabeth Bennet loved the outdoors, especially if she was rambling all over Longbourn or riding her beloved pony, Hector. With her vivid imagination and love of books—she had read the Iliad a month before she had been gifted her pony for her ninth birthday—Elizabeth imagined her pony to be a great warrior, just not of the Trojan army.
On this particular day, Elizabeth was on Hector’s back (riding astride as was her wont) with a small cart being pulled behind him.
Papa had asked her to collect some materials that had been borrowed by Mr. Humbolt—one of Longbourn’s tenants—and return them to the barn next to the manor house.
Miss Lizzy was known among the tenants as one who would always assist them when she could. Her father had purchased her the small cart which could be hitched to, and pulled behind Hector, so she could satisfy her desire to be of service to others. On this day, among other items, there was asturdy length of rope in the cart to be returned to her father.
The Humbolt farm was in the southeastern corner of the estate, close to the roadway which was often used by those on the way to or from Meryton and beyond. Not far from where Elizabeth found herself at that moment, was a rather sharp turn in the road, with a steep drop into a gully on the one side.
She was riding next to the fence that marked the end of Bennet land when she saw a carriage, a rather fine chaise and four, pass her on its way towards the corner.
Elizabeth stopped to admire the team of four bays and was watching as the coachman drove his team around the corner when there was a very loud cracking noise. To her horror, she watched as the conveyance first teetered and then began to tip over.
As brave as she was, Elizabeth closed her eyes as she was convinced the poor souls would shortly be at the bottom of the gully on the jagged rocks that waited for them there.
She heard no sound of the coach crashing onto the rocks, but she did hear a girl’s wailing.
Slowly, she moved her small hand from in front of her eyes and gradually opened them. What she saw horrified her. The carriage was resting against something, the two wheels closest to her in the air. The team of horses were being pulled towards the gully and were getting more and more frightened. Where the coachman who had been driving the carriage, or the footman she had seen on the rear bench were, Elizabeth knew not.
She did know she had to attempt to help them. How? She was not sure. “Hector, go boy,” Elizabeth commanded her pony.
She wheeled him around and made for the gap in the fence close to the corner.
As much danger as she was about to place herself in,Elizabeth knew the first thing she had to do was release the team of horses from the traces. The more perturbed they became, the greater the chance the coach would careen down into the gully, pulling the magnificent animals with it.
“Please, help me,” Anne managed. “My Papa hit…his head and I think he is…alive but is not conscious.”
Anne had thought they were about to die. By some miracle, the conveyance had not fallen down the incline. A second miracle was she was basically unharmed. Just when she thought no one knew of their plight, a girl, mayhap around her own age, had come into her field of vision, riding a pony.
“I will try,” Elizabeth responded.
She thought about unhitching her cart and riding for help, but she discounted that, especially after she dismounted and looked around the back of the coach. The footman was lying prostrate, his one arm at an unnatural angle. His head seemed to have hit a rock when he was thrown from his place. Of the coachman, there was no trace.
The equipage was precariously leaning against what was left of a tree, which reached about two-thirds of the way up the side of the carriage. It was obvious the tree’s trunk would not hold for too long.
