CHAPTER XLI

By morning she had reached a resolution. After her husband left, she sat down to pen a letter, telling herself this would be the last.

"May 19, 1820.
MY DEAREST, MR. WEIR – I owe you an explanation for last night – though I imagine you can well guess what I must say. Please know that if I were still free to choose then my desires would follow your own. But we are both wise enough to know that cannot be the case.
Please, marry Sarah Davidson with my blessing. If she will have you, I believe she will be luckiest woman in all the land. Your–"

What could she sign it? Not Lady Matlock. And certainly not Elizabeth Darcy.

"BESS."

She sent Annette off with strict instructions to hand it only to the gentleman at the address, no matter how long she had to wait. Every hour till her maid finally returned became an agony. Rushing to make her mistress up for dinner, Annette slipped her another note.

"Elgin's treasures: Thursday the twenty-fifth, two o'clock."

"I shall not ask," Annette said, "because it will be better if I do not know. But you bring your dirty items to me and me only. And please, madam, be careful."

It was easy enough to gain a ticket for the British Museum. Lady Castlereagh knew several of the trustees, of course, so wrote her a glowing introduction. All were only too delighted to hear that Lady Matlock wished to visit with her young children, including the Viscount of Kirkdale. And if Thursday next was her desired day, then a ticket should be sent to her immediately. And perhaps, if she enjoyed it, her husband might be minded to speak in favour of increasing the Museum's grant from the Crown, when the House next debated the issue?

The day arrived. Her nervousness was only matched by Bennet's excitement. He bombarded her with questions for all of the short carriage ride, a welcome distraction from the questions her own mind her had plagued her with all week. What could he want? Why was she going? Would he like her yellow coat? Would he kiss her again? Would she kiss him, if he did not? Was she strong enough to say goodbye in person? Did he love her? How could she make sure her husband never found out?

Jack Renner handed her and children out. She presented her tickets to a disparaging clerk, who gave all four of them – Countess, Viscount, Master Darcy and Lady Catherine – a very severe warning to Not Touch Anything. She led her brood straight to the Elgin Room. She had not seen the Parthenon Marbles before. They were spellbindingly beautiful, enough to mesmerise even Bennet, but she found she agreed with Lord Byron: the Earl of Elgin had committed a most flagrant pillage by bringing them here. She hoped her boys never developed the tendency to decide that if one wanted something, one could simply have it.

The sound of boots echoed through the otherwise quiet room. She placed Catherine next to her brothers, asking them to teach her the words for their favourite sculptures, before walking towards the only other person in the room, steeling herself to send him away. He must have known her thoughts. He held up his hand and said softly: "Do not fret: your note was, of course, entirely correct. I came simply to bring you this." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled wad of papers. Walking towards her, he placed them gently in her hand. "We had never actually agreed a time to meet before, when I could be sure of having them on me."

She gave a small frown, then chuckled when she saw her own writing scratched across the pages. "My seditious texts."

"I told you I did not wish to claim credit for them. You would think me a worse thief than Elgin."

That made her laugh. They stood for a moment, not knowing what to say, but simply at ease. The museum was exceptionally quiet that day. She turned to her children.

"Bennet, William, come here with Catty and meet Mama's friend."

That moment began one of the happiest afternoons of Elizabeth's life. His ease around her children, and theirs around him, filled her heart. Even William, prone to shyness, soon came out of his shell, lured by tales of naval battles and far-flung shores – some undoubtedly true and some, she imaged, far exaggerated. Their happy crew walked from exhibit to exhibit. When her arms grew tired, he carried her daughter and seemed to not mind at all the three Darcy children's incessant questions and instructions. By the time they reached the Rosetta Stone, they were Navy explorers, more interested in learning the words to a sea shanty than deciphering hieroglyphics. Their mother was playing her own game of make believe: one where, when the children were tired, they would all head home to a cosy house in Marylebone.

Instead, they headed to the gardens. She collected a sleeping Catherine back from him, while the two boys threw themselves on the grass. The adults chose to sit on a bench instead while the Matlock carriage was brought round. The twins started wrestling. She did not want to say goodbye.

"You never did tell me how to set a bone."

"You truly wish to know?" She nodded in the direction of her warring brood. He chuckled. "I need to visit Brougham in the country next week; he is in a melancholic mood. When do you expect you will leave town?"

"Whenever Parliament rises, I suppose."

"Let us meet at the Foundlings then, the Monday after next. Parliament won't rise before then. Not if Wood has anything to say about it."

"What has he planned?"

"He's determined to have Caroline over here before the summer's end. I suspect that's the cause of Brougham's malady: he knows he's lost her ear on this."

She shifted Catherine's weight. "It does seem strange, all these great reformers, arguing over who gets to rule a queen."

"She is a figurehead," he said simply. "A woman wronged for a people wronged. You wrote so yourself, in those very pages: none of us want to be in calm waters all our lives."

Elizabeth looked over at her boys, who had ceased their physical fight and were now arguing over who had told Catherine the correct pronunciation of some Greek word. The sight made her smile: she hoped they would always teach her. "How will it be better for them? Wood's revolution?"

He followed her eyes. "Your William is a sweet boy. Do you think he'll be happy with the life currently destined for him?"

"No," she answered honestly. "No, I think, if he is lucky, he may find a nice girl he can marry without shame or prejudice. But he's already carrying a weight of responsibility on his shoulders. I worry that will wear him down, over the years."

"And the others?"

"Benny likes attention too much to be just a second son. And Catherine; I want her to have every opportunity in the world. You are good with them."

"It is a pleasant change to see children so full of life. I think they must be about my nieces and nephew's age."

"You've never seen them?"

"No, I send my sisters money, but I think it would be awkward now, my life is very different to the rest of my siblings. I don't think they forgive me for escaping."

She desperately wanted to squeeze his hand, but settled for giving him a sad smile. "You wish you had stayed with them?"

"No. I wish to raise everyone up. Surely that's the responsibility of all of us who do escape. To put more ladders down, not pull them up."

She sat for a moment stroking Catherine's hair. She was going to be tall, like her Aunt Lydia. "My husband's family told me when I married that my blood would pollute their line, but if the country goes anything like France then I am counting on that same blood to protect them."

He stared at her strangely. Doubt crept over her; had she said something unwise? She had only spoken her truth. She was counting on–

"Come with me, to Boston."

She sat stunned. "What?"

He grabbed her hand and held it tight. "Let's not wait for Wood or England. She's too tied to her masters: she'll never be rid of them. We could go, right now Bess, all five of us. Leave all the rank and the servitude behind."

She could not believe what she was hearing. It was a nonsense. Surely? And yet–

"How would we even get to Boston?"

"We can be in Southampton by evening," he said with the confidence of a man who had stumbled on a grand plan. One he was certain would work.

"That is folly."

"Is it really? I've enough to cover us and no ship will turn down a surgeon-physician, especially one who knows how to rig a mooring. I can practice anywhere; bodies are just bodies. We can start anew. These three – four," he moved his hand to her waist, "they can be whatever they want to be."

This was too public. She shot back. "Now you are talking lunacy. What life is that? Spending every minute looking over our shoulders. You think the Government's spies respect borders? We would be discovered, Rob. You would be hung as a kidnapper and I – I would be divorced and disgraced, as likely to die in the streets as anywhere. We cannot. It would be a sham freedom."

"Europe then. I have some Spanish. We could–"

"No, Rob. Stop. We cannot. He has my brother-in-law's living; my uncle's business; my mother and sister's security. I cannot. I condemn my whole family if I leave."

He stared up at her. "You truly believe he would be so spiteful?"

"I have to. That or I believe he is the good man I married, who would mourn me, but let me go, and keep his word to all my family even when I've inflicted such a serious wound. And if I believe he is that man, then I don't have the heart to leave. Besides, what about Sarah Davidson?"

He nodded, though she could see the pain in the movement. "You're right, again. Forgive me, it was a moment of lunacy. Just promise me, if Wood succeeds, if things go the way of France – get yourself to Marylebone; you, the boys and Catherine. Don't wait; just run."

It was her turn to nod, painful as it was. "We part as friends then?"

"Always." He stood, took her hand and shook it. "Till Monday next."

"Till Monday next."

Her carriage had arrived some time ago. Rounding up her boys, she climbed in with just one backward glance. She promised all three children extra cake for desert, if they did not mention her friend – a compromise to which they all readily agreed.

The knowledge of their next meeting made the days in-between easier to bear. She managed to convince herself that they could, perhaps, just be friends – if the choice was that, or not having him in her life at all: she could bear the ache, for those punctured moments of joy. The summer would be long, but it would make it all the sweeter when they were reunited – as it often was with good friends. And if things with Caroline and Alderman Wood did turn sour, she was at least prepared.

Gossip around the Queen filled society's tea and ballrooms, though no one really believed she would be foolish enough to return and invite the King's wrath. Not when his Government had offered her fifty-thousand pounds to stay on the continent.

Lady Matlock kept her own counsel on that matter. She did not ask when Mr. Janssesns started carrying a pistol, nor remark when officers from the King's Guard started patrolling the streets of Mayfair. She welcomed her husband's return to staying late in Whitehall, arriving back once she was asleep and leaving before she had risen. Her chief concern was what should happen if the Queen returned while her family were in Derbyshire, but she knew her friend had links to Manchester, perhaps even Sheffield. There would be another safe place; and once she knew where it was, she could make sure Jane did as well. And Kitty, should she need refuge. Lydia, she suspected, would be well positioned in any coming troubles. She would make her children safe and wait it out. Then she could find a way return to London, and they would be happy.

Historical note: The Elgin Marbles, also known as the Parthenon Marbles, are a collection of Classical Greek marble sculptures. They were originally part of the temple of the Parthenon and other buildings on the Acropolis of Athens. From 1801 to 1812, agents of the Earl of Elgin removed about half of the surviving sculptures of the Parthenon, and transported the Marbles by sea to Britain. Elgin later claimed to have obtained an official decree from the Ottoman Empire, which at that time ruled Greece, to remove the Marble. This decree has never been, despite the Ottoman Empire's wealth of documents from the same period.

In Britain, the acquisition of the collection was supported by some, while some others, such as Lord Byron, likened the Earl's actions to vandalism. Following a public debate in Parliament, Elgin sold the Marbles to the British government in 1816. They then passed into the trusteeship of the British Museum.

Since gaining its independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1832, the Greek state has embarked on a series of projects to restore its monuments and retrieve looted art. The Greek government continues to urge the return of the marbles to Athens.

Author's note: It was only after writing this chapter that I realised the implications with the 2005 adaption marble room…