My reasoning for why I wanted to remain anonymous seems obvious to me, but perhaps not to everyone. The girl was clearly first circles, so her guardian was probably very wealthy. That might seem to argue for trying to obtain a reward, since he had money in abundance but few sisters.
My understanding of the first circles painted them as a snake pit of vice. According to my uncle, dissipation, dishonour, and gambling were rampant, and getting on the bad side of such a man seemed ill-advised. The potential rewards did not justifythe risks. The man was careless enough to hire a companion who conspired to compromise his sister, and he failed to send a few trusted servants to monitor the pair. That did not speak well of his management of his affairs.
Also, his father’s godson was a bad enough man to hunt down the daughter of his benefactor like a fox in a henhouse, and either elope with her, or compromise her for the same result, just to get her dowry. The young lady was not even out, and she certainly was not ready for marriage, but since she was about my sister Lydia’s age, she could not be expected to demonstrate any real sense. The guardian, however, was certainly old enough to know better.What in the world was he thinking? Was he like his father who took the reprobate in as a godson? Of course, I had little room to talk about indolent guardians or indecorous girls, so there was that.
These reflections dictated I return this girl to her guardian without expanding the acquaintance. While my aunt recommended I take her to my uncle’s home, and there was much to be said for the idea, I preferred to drop her at her door, let her deal with her own guardian, and return to Gracechurch Street alone with my uncle’s servant.
With a better understanding in place, I told the girl, “We will speak at the coaching station.”
She nodded; belatedly aware her reputation was at considerable risk and silence was the best policy.
The next two hours passed slowly with us chewing our lips but not speaking. To protect our reputations, I did not want our names known, so we could not even introduce ourselves.
Thus began the two most tedious hours of my life. Considering the nature of my mother and younger sisters, that is truly saying something.
3.Interception- Georgiana
It took an hour or two for the panic to truly set in!
When I left my leased abode in Ramsgate, it was with trepidation that gradually changed to agitated confusion. I spent what was probably an hour, but seemed like days, wandering around and trying to work out how to protect myself when I did not know a single trustworthy person in the county. Wandering alone without a companion would not attract the slightest attention if I were a servant; but I was so obviously not only gentry, but first circles, that I enticed stares wherever I went. In my imagination, most of those stares were jealous or malicious, and I could not quite bring myself to speak with anyone. It was so easy to become the target of malicious gossip, and that could do material harm to our family.
It eventually occurred to me that I led a frightfully sheltered existence, which had not in the least small way prepared me for adversity. For the first fifteen years of my life, the biggest dangers I ever faced were needles, stairs, or horses. I suppose you could count the jealous tongues of my superiors in school as a danger, but I doubt any servant would agree.
I attacked the problem from every angle, and it kept coming back to reputation. Despite significant regression under Mrs Younge’s tutelage, I had learnt the rules of propriety at school, and I knew my actions could affect my future marital prospects, and even my brother’s. Of course, since my brother was eight and twenty without a single sniff of matrimonial intent, I was not convinced it truly mattered. My reputation, on the other hand, was considered so fragile as to dissolve with the slightest whiff of scandal. I had always enjoyed someone I could trust to take care of me and expected such to be true throughout my life. Without any real protection, I was lost for a time. My faith inboth my judgement and my brother’s was at its lowest ebb just when I needed clear thinking.
I quickly concluded I could not trust a single person in my lodgings. It was a small establishment without the usual butler and housekeeper you would expect for someone of my station. Since it was only two ladies on a short holiday, it seemed adequate—but with at least some servants and my companion being untrustworthy, I knew I needed something else.
I thought about approaching a shopkeeper, or a gentleman in the street, but was held back by paralysing fear. It was frightfully easy to start rumours. With more experience, I suspect it should have taken all of five minutes to work out that all I need do was walk into any shop and ask them to fetch the magistrate—but in my embarrassment, I was unwilling to expose myself. I naïvely thought I might find a better solution on my own, given time.
Those thoughts came to an abrupt halt when my former beau appeared in front of my lodgings, and I belatedly worked out that my wandering had brought me in a circle back to the worst possible place. He looked up and down the street, and a few minutes of careful observation from a doorway revealed that he had gathered a gang of rough-looking armed men. They were spreading out, seemingly searching for me. This frightened me to death and led to a couple of conclusions. Firstly, the man had decided the time for subtlety was over. Secondly, he either had a miniature to show the men, or he had engaged them sometime in the past in case of need.
One of them spied me watching, sent up a shout, and the chase was on. I was still some distance from the blackguard who spotted me, and I could run reasonably fast for a girl; but it was only a matter of time before they caught me.
As I ran, I discarded one idea after another. I could no longer just throw myself on the mercy of a gentleman in the street orshopkeeper with armed men in pursuit. Who would risk himself for me?
I was growing truly desperate when I spied my salvation. The station looked like an anthill with coaches and people teeming together in an enormous discordant mass. I knew there was a stationmaster and any number of coachmen and guards. Once it became clear I must trade my reputation for safety, the choice did not seem so very difficult. A kidnapping in broad daylight in a crowded yard seemed farfetched, though not impossible. I could even imagine Mr Wickham posing as a guardian retrieving a recalcitrant sister back to the bosom of her family, and he was just smooth enough that he might get away with it. At the very least, the altercation would destroy my reputation, but I had no other options.
I dived into the mass of people, looking for anyone with sufficient authority to protect me, and abruptly found myself diverted into a group of women by a lady who knew exactly what to do and how to do it. I was impressed beyond measure!
At first, the woman appeared to be a governess, since she seemed to know exactly how to divert me, calm me, and identify the problem with a dozen words. Ten minutes later I was in a coach leaning down to tie an imaginary shoelace as we left to return to my brother in London.
Once my safety was secure, I started worrying about my reputation, as well as that of the lady who assisted me. Her style of travel clothes spoke to her being a gentlewoman, though not an overly prosperous one. I knew most governesses and companions began their lives as impoverished daughters of a gentleman, so I still knew no more than I had when I ran into the station. She seemed nearly a decade my senior, but I suspected if she removed her bonnet, I would see the most hauntingly beautiful woman I ever met.
Once or twice, I started to speak but she subtly shushed me. The way she managed me led me to believe she was more sensible than average. I also suspected she might have some young and silly sisters and was accustomed to dealing with them but had no idea why I supposed so.
The coach was packed with four adults shoved into a space my brother would consider crowded with two; and there were another three on top. My new companion and I sat in the last two available spaces, facing each other, so even if we wanted to speak it would be to the entire company.
To make matters worse, there was a matron beside us who could compete with my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for volubility. She spoke with another woman who served as either travelling companion or hapless victim. The pair reminded me of the sisters of one of my brother’s friends. I called them the echo sisters, because Miss Bingley put out an endless stream of chatter about people and places I neither knew nor cared about, while Mrs Hurst simply agreed or echoed everything. It was as if each morsel of gossip was so vital, she needed to hammer it into my skull. Worse yet, they considered themselves my brother’s particular friends, so they rarely kept calls to the polite fifteen minutes. I was too timid, and my brother too polite to throw them out—but I often wished he would.
The end result was two hours without any chance to talk. I had taken the place of a maid, making me the worst chaperone in the world. The trip would be ten to fifteen hours long, so both the lady and I were due a long and exhausting day. She might stay at an inn to break her trip, but she seemed more likely to just get it over with.
Two hours after setting out, I relaxed slightly. We pulled into another busy coaching station, and everyone exited.
The groom yelled loud enough to wake the dead, “TWENTY MINUTES!We depart in twenty minutes with or without you.Do not wander!”
The stage stop was the Tower of Babel. While there were many places with some room to breathe, the immediate area around our coach was packed worse than Ramsgate. There were two more coaches within twenty yards, with horses and grooms moving around, yelling at each other, and chastising anyone with the poor sense to get in their way.
My companion and I needed refreshment, so we joined a long queue for the privy. Our echo sister from the coach and her victim were right behind us, speaking so much I could barely hear myself think, let alone anything my companion might say.
