Elizabeth's Refuge by Timothy Underwood

Author:Timothy Underwood [Underwood, Timothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth’s first order of business during her stay in Calais was to pen an essay for pamphlets, or newspapers, and any other libelous and rebellious press that might print it. She was rather proud about her treatment of: The Tale of an Evil and Rakish Noble who wanted to Violate and Murder an Innocent Governess.

Her story, with rhetorical flourishes, was readied and sent out the afternoon of her second day in Calais. It had been written with the reluctant help of Darcy (who had a fine turn for the invective), and the eager help of General Fitzwilliam (who was a surprisingly poor writer given his ample other talents), and Major Fitz Williams who suggested many puns that were hilarious, but would not contribute to the desired effect if entered into the text.

The essay packaged and sent to General Fitzwilliam’s friends amongst some subversive organization of The Young and Privileged Against Tyrannical Excesses — Elizabeth had begun to think satirically in Capital letters about everything after penning her account of her experience.

She found this laughter cathartic, and it helped to banish any demons which may have lurked in her soul after such an unpleasant experience.

Though she liked to think any would-be demons had in the main been banished by the simple fact that she won.

Elizabeth also spent an hour each morning in attempted conversation in French with a servant M. Dessein provided who almost spoke English, and who was willing to correct Elizabeth each time she made a mistake. She made mistakes of grammar almost never, and mistakes of pronunciation almost always. The servant also repeated everything she said in French veeeery sloooowly until Elizabeth understood the sentence.

Becky came over with the Dover packet, along with Darcy’s valet, Joseph, the Darcy carriage with its driver and footmen, General Fitzwilliam’s soldiers, Darcy’s man of business, a pile of correspondence from Darcy’s lawyer about what he was doing to stymie and annoy Lord Lachglass, a supply of Georgiana’s modified clothes for Elizabeth, Darcy’s own clothing, ample odds and ends, and most remarkably to Elizabeth, a stack of large denomination bills in the French currency that was six inches high.

The man of business explained to Darcy, when he arrived, that they had been all changed by Childe’s as a courtesy at the rate which prevailed on the market.

Darcy nodded, idly rifling through the stack of bills that Elizabeth watched with wide eyes.

More than a thousand pounds were sitting on the table, except in French, that is in franc. “How badly would I have had my ears trimmed back if I let Monsieur Dessein give me Napoleons for guineas?”

“Is that his offer?” The man of business chuckled. “Quite badly, a matter of more than a tenth of the value, sir.”

“Still, a fine establishment.”

“Yes, sir,” the man of business, whose name Elizabeth had already forgotten but who was a far, far more friendly and honorable looking man than Lachglass’s Mr. Blight, replied. “A fine establishment. Mentioned by Sterne, you know. In his Sentimental Travels. Though I believe the building that the family occupied then may have been different.

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