Mary Nichols - Talk of the Ton

It was the following day before Beth was able to escape to the potting shed where she expected to find Toby at work. He was nowhere to be seen.

She was about to turn back to the house, but changed her mind. She had come to talk to Toby about the latest developments in her life and she did not want to go back without unburdening herself to him. She set off for Orchard House, where he lived with his father on the edge of the estate.

‘Is Toby here?’ she asked when Mr Kendall answered the door himself. He was a well-educated man who had been estate manager since before her father died, and Beth knew her mother set great store by him, trusting him implicitly. In his turn, he worked assiduously to keep the wheels of Beechgrove turning. Beth had assumed it was an easy task, but, since her mother’s revelation, she knew he must be finding it increasingly difficult. Poor Toby would never set off on his travels unless a miracle happened. She was as sad for him as she was for herself having to go through the charade of choosing a husband.

‘No, Miss Elizabeth, he’s gone.’

It was then she noticed the bleakness in his grey eyes and the downturned mouth. What had happened? ‘What do you mean, gone?’ she asked.

‘Left. Gone on his travels. To Calcutta.’ It was obviously not something that pleased the man who faced her.

‘But how could he? The day before yesterday he was saying he did not know how he was ever going to manage it. What has happened?’

‘Miss Elizabeth, I think you should go home.’

‘I will when you have told me what this is all about. How can he have packed up and gone at a moment’s notice? There are any number of things waiting to be done in the garden and glasshouse, he surely would not have left them to someone else.’

‘He has. Pershore’s lad has been given instructions.’

‘I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t go like that, certainly not without saying goodbye to me. And his instruction would have been to me. He would trust me to follow them implicitly.’

‘It’s all for the best,’ he said wearily.

It was then that enlightenment dawned. Toby had been banished; it was not his choice. ‘Who sent him away?’ she demanded. ‘And why?’

‘Go home, Miss Elizabeth, please. It is not fitting you should be here. Put your questions to your mama.’

What did her mother know of it? A little seed of suspicion began to grow in her mind. ‘I will. Thank you, Mr Kendall.’

She could hardly wait to see her mother and dashed up to her boudoir and flung open the door. Her mother looked up from the letter she was writing to confront a daughter whose dark eyes blazed angrily. ‘Beth, what is the matter?’

‘Toby has gone.’

‘Yes, I know. He has always wanted to travel to find new plants and the opportunity arose—’

‘Very suddenly it seems,’ Beth interrupted her. ‘So suddenly he was not even allowed to say goodbye to me.’

‘It was for the best.’

‘That’s what Mr Kendall said. I want to know what he meant.’

‘Sit down, Beth, and calm yourself.’

Beth took a deep breath and sank on to a stool close to her mother’s chair. ‘I am calm.’

Harriet smiled. Calm her daughter certainly was not, but she was waiting for an answer and deserved one. ‘You know Toby has always said he wanted to go plant hunting?’

‘Of course I do, I was the one who told you that.’

‘Well, he has been given the opportunity to go and it was too good to miss.’

‘But, Mama, he’s gone without me.’

‘Of course he has. You did not seriously think you would be allowed to go with him, did you?’

Beth stared at her. ‘He’s been sent away from me, hasn’t he? I wondered what you meant when you asked me if he had been filling my head with ideas about working for a living. You were afraid I might…What exactly did you think I might do, Mama? Elope with him?’

‘No, of course not,’ Harriet answered so swiftly that Beth knew that she had unwittingly hit the nail on the head. ‘But you must admit you have been seeing a lot of him and I believe it is because of him you are so against having a come-out…’

‘That has nothing to do with Toby.’

‘Nevertheless, a little time apart might be beneficial…’

‘And what did Toby say?’

‘He understood.’

‘The traitor!’

Harriet smiled. ‘No, he was being sensible.’

‘Why didn’t he say goodbye to me? Did you forbid him to?’

‘No, that was his decision. No doubt he will write frequently to his father and Mr Kendall will give us all his news.’

Beth’s thoughts suddenly took a sharp turn. ‘But where did the money come from? After what you said…’

‘Beth…’

‘Uncle James! The Duke of Belfont is rich enough to buy people.’ She laughed harshly, a sound that made her mother wince. ‘It was all so unnecessary. I did not need separating from Toby. There was nothing untoward going on, or likely to. I have known him since I was a tiny child and he is like a brother to me. Did you not understand that?’

Harriett sighed, knowing that she had been wrong to confide her unease to James. Her brother had done what he thought was best, but they had made a real mull of it between them. ‘I’m sorry, Beth, truly sorry, but you must realise—’

‘Oh, I realise, Mama. I realise I am to have no say in how I live my life at all.’ And with that she fled to her own room, where she flung herself down on her bed and sobbed.

If she could not make her mother understand, who could she talk to? There was only one other person and that was Toby. But Toby had gone, left her without a word. Why had he been so easily persuaded? Oh, she knew that he had always wanted to go plant hunting and the temptation to accept whatever it was he had been offered must have been very great and she could hardly blame him for it. But why go without explaining himself to her or even saying goodbye? That was what hurt most, the abruptness of it. Uncle James must have been very persuasive. Had he given Toby to understand she knew about the offer beforehand? Did Toby think she did not care?

If it had been done openly, she could have been part of the planning, the deciding what luggage and equipment to take, the boxes and barrels for keeping plants in, the beeswax and special paper to preserve the seeds and prevent them going mouldy in the dampness of the ship’s hold on the journey home. They would have talked about the ship he would sail on, the area he would explore, the kind of plants he hoped to find, the journal he would keep and the reports he would send regularly to her. And he would have told her exactly what to do to look after the plants he had left behind. She would have waved him goodbye with a cheerful heart if that had been the case.

How far had he got? He wouldn’t have sailed yet because it would be necessary to stop off in London and equip himself and book a berth on a ship—no doubt an East Indiaman, which regularly made the journey back and forth between England and India. Could she catch him before he sailed, just to speak to him, to tell him that, if he had been banished, she had had no prior knowledge of it, to ask for instructions and say goodbye? She imagined his face lighting up at the sight of her. He would take her hand and lead her on board to show her his quarters and the equipment he had brought with him, and when the ship sailed she would return to the quay and watch until the vessel was out of sight.

The more she thought about it, the more possible it seemed. All she had to do was find out the name of the ship, take the stage to London and hire a cab to take her to the docks and there he would be! She knew she could not go with him, but it would be some compensation to be there when he set out and reassure him that she did not condone what her mother and uncle had done. Her tears dried on her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet and hurried down to the drawing room, where she found the newspaper she had seen her uncle reading after dinner two nights before.

She sat down and quickly scanned it for the shipping news. And there it was. The Princess Charlotte had arrived at the East India docks with a cargo of tea, spices and ornamental objects, and was due to depart again as soon as it had taken export goods, passengers and stores on board. The East India Company prided itself on its fast turnaround. But supposing, when she got there, Toby wasn’t sailing on the Princess Charlotte? What then? It would be a wild goose chase and she would have to turn round and come home. But what an adventure!

She sat, staring at the newsprint until the words danced in front of her eyes. Princess Charlotte sailing on the afternoon of the following day—dare she go? What would her mother say? But it wasn’t as if she was running away or anything like that, she was simply going to see a friend off on a journey, and then she would be back, almost before she was missed. Ought she to take a companion? But who? Miss Andover would treat her like a naughty child and report her to her mother, and none of the servants would agree to go with her for fear of losing their place. It was go alone or not at all.

She folded the paper and replaced it where she found it on the fender where it would undoubtedly be used for lighting the fire next morning, and hurried back to her room where she fetched out her purse and counted out the money she had. Her uncle had given each of the girls five guineas in order to buy fripperies before their trip to London and Beth had not spent hers. She also had the better part of a quarter’s pin money, which her mother had put into her hand at the end of March. It ought to be enough for the coach fare and a little to eat. She would not need an overnight stay because she would be coming straight back; coaches to and from Bury St Edmunds and Norwich called at Sudbury all the time. She smiled suddenly, wondering what her uncle would say when he knew his generosity had inadvertently made her journey possible.

How she managed to behave normally at dinner—which was taken at five o’clock, that being a compromise between town and country hours—she did not know. Afterwards she sat in the drawing room with her mother and Livvy, who was full of what she intended to do and see in London, most of which involved riding in the park, visiting Tattersalls to see the horses and going to the races and what young men they might meet. If anything could make Beth decide to go ahead with her plan, that was it. Once they arrived at Belfont House, there would be no more adventures. As soon as she could, she excused herself, saying she was tired and went up to her room. An early night was called for if she was to be up betimes.

It was a long time before she fell asleep, her mind was whirring with what she meant to do. If it had not been for her uncle sending Toby away in that high-handed fashion and that dreaded Season in London, which she looked upon as the end to all her freedom, she would never have contemplated it. It made her feel a little better about what she was doing, but only a little.

It was the dawn chorus just outside her window that woke her and she silently thanked the birds or she might have overslept and missed the coach. She sat at her escritoire to write a note to her mother, which she left on her pillow, and then dressed quickly in her father’s breeches and a clean shirt. There was also a full-skirted coat with huge flap pockets, years out of date, but she didn’t care about that—it would be safer to travel as a young man. The ensemble was completed with riding boots and a tricorne hat. She fastened her long hair up with combs and pulled the hat down over it. She put her purse containing her money in her coat pocket and opened her bedroom door.