Page 21 of Till Death Us Do Part
“Of course. It is never too late to learn. I believe I will have a great deal of study in my near future.”
She did not think it prudent to elaborate onwhatshe had to learn. It was obvious Mr Baker had gone to some trouble to keep her identity secret. Molly did not even know her name, nor did she seem aware that her name would soon be Darcy. The innkeeper and his wife seemed like people who could keep their mouths shut (given sufficient inducement), and the coach was obviously Mr Baker’s tool of the trade, as it was built for utility and speed. It had not escaped her that both doors had stout locks.
Not wanting to spend too much time fretting about her future, which she could do nothing about, she said, “You cannot learn in two days, but you can begin. Let us see what we can do with what I have. If you are looking for employment in a great house, you will be lucky to get anything better than a scullery position, but if you work hard and have a fair employer, you might advance, but you willnotgo far if you cannot read.”
Elizabeth took a book she had in her valise and started working with Molly to recognise letters and went about it for the next hour.
When they approached a village the size of Meryton with the usual collection of shops, they brought the coach to a stop, and she took a chance.
“Mr Baker, since you are not a beast, may I use some ofmy moneyto buy materials to make the journey easier? Keeping in mind the relative ease of hauling a reasonably contented woman acting like a rough approximation of a lady versus—what did you call it—a spitting hellcat.”
Baker quite liked the young lady—not enough to let her go of course—but he did like her spirit. He suspected the lunkhead waiting at the other end of the debacle was due an educational experience. He would like to see that but obviously would not, so he was reduced to speculation.
“Very well, Miss B—” but stopped short of saying her name.
A man of careful habits, he always tried to keep the circle of people who knew his business as small as possible, and the maid did not need to know. He was not surprised a woman like Miss Bennet wanted something to read, so he agreed to the purchase. After all, her father never said she could not spend her own money.
“What do you require?”
“Some materials from the bookshop.”
Knowing she could not get into all that much trouble, he asked how much she needed and carefully counted it out.
“We will bait the horses for an hour, and I will order tea and refreshments at that inn. May I have your word that you will attend me there within the half-hour?”
“Yes,” she said, without further comment.
The man nodded, and she dragged Molly away.
Within the half-hour, Mr Baker was sitting with the driver sipping tea, with the men’s supplemented for a man driving in the middle of December (a foolish operation if there ever was one).
He saw his latest young lady sit down at the table with her maid and wondered what they bought. He learned soon enough, as the maid anxiously reached into the package and brought out a primer and slate suitable for teaching a child to read and write. The bag seemed to hold a few more books, which he suspected were primers. The maid obviously had no idea what to do with any of it at first, but apparently lessons were the order of the day.
So, two days of lessons in reading. It was not the strangest activity he had ever seen on a return journey, but it was close.
True to his word, they rode late into the night, fell into exhausted slumber after yet another meal of some kind of stew, and Mr Baker did not stint on their meals or accommodations.
Molly proudly showed Mr Baker that she could print her own name and read a few paragraphs of the primer, so he made the same kind of non-committal noises he made for his sister’s children when they did the same. He had no idea how the raising of children was done and was sceptical of the entire enterprise. His upbringing had been quite different from the usual, but closer to Miss Hatchers than Miss Bennet’s.
In the afternoon of the second day, Elizabeth recognised Hatfield, the town where her northern journey began. She refrained from suggesting they wait until midnight, and she could perfectly well walk the rest of the way, since she had done it before. He was not a beast, but he was not necessarily a humorous man either.
Mr Baker stopped to bait the horses as usual, and while they were enjoying their tea, he waited until Miss Hatcher went to refresh herself and spoke to Elizabeth.
“I imagine you walked this far, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, I did so in the middle of the night.”
Baker nodded. “If you have no objections, I will say it was bravely done. You almost pulled it off. It was stupid and dangerous, but still brave.”
Elizabeth snorted. “Can we agree that most brave acts are stupid and dangerous? Is that not the definition of bravery?”
The man chuckled. “You may have a point there. However, as amusing as this discussion is, I have another item to discuss.”
Elizabeth just raised her eyebrow.
“It is about your money. You had more than the usual amount for runaways.”
“I save more diligently than most, I suppose. It is not stolen or appropriated from my father, though I would have no qualms about doing so if necessary.”
