Thu, Dec 5, 1811 – Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Musical Accompaniment: Flight Bumblebee Ernman. (Fun fact – this is Greta Thunberg's mother)
Midnight seemed the right time to begin, and Elizabeth managed to get herself ready for the next phase of her life without much fuss or noise. She had checked the almanac in her father's study during the day. The full moon had been, on Nov 30th the previous Saturday, so it was still just over a half‑moon, but it would be completely useless in just a few days. Besides that, there really was nothing more to be done. Elizabeth had researched all the schedules a week before when the idea first came to her.
Elizabeth removed a board in the floor under her bed, and removed all her spare money, an amount of about £25. She had a single valise with the most practical dresses she could think of, a few bits of smallclothes, and all her jewelry. She had to travel light, so several hours had been dedicated to packing to ensure that only the most essential pieces were taken.
A book in her father's study, written during Roman times, indicated that people walked at about three miles per hour, almost regardless of conditions. Her own experience backed that up. Her walk to Netherfield to tend to Jane, which seemed like a hundred years ago but was in fact exactly three weeks, covered three miles. She had accomplished it, even with the mud of the fields in an hour and a quarter. She felt like she could walk like that all night but planning for that level of activity seemed ill advised at best. She would need to stop to rest, or warm up, or possibly hide in the woods if she encountered anybody else. She thought to allow half of that speed, and all would be well.
The half‑moon turned out to be bright, and the weather clear, so she had to thank goodness for small favors. The road to Hatfield was seven miles long, well-traveled, and in reasonably good condition, but it still had the occasional rut or pothole. Stepping into a puddle of water would not only be uncomfortable, but it could well put her health at risk, so Elizabeth had to watch where she went very carefully.
About an hour or so after she left Longbourn, when she was getting beyond the Meryton environs, the lady found herself chased by a dog outside of a farmstead. She was not generally afraid of dogs, but this one sounded quite bad tempered, and nobody with any sense tangled with an angry canine. She hiked up her skirt and ran like the wind for a few hundred yards, and fortunately found the animal was not interested in her when she was not threatening the region that he thought should be his to command.
Around two hours after she left, when she was well past any habitations save a few farmhouses, she heard a couple of men coming home from some sort of drunken revelry. They made plenty of noise as they traversed the road, so she had adequate time to leave the road and hide in a field. In the end, while she found the idea of drunken men to be much more frightening than the idea of vicious dogs, the two men were hardly able to walk, let alone accost her. They did however cost her an anxious quarter or half an hour waiting for them to get on with it. The only saving grace in their presence is that one of them stepped into a puddle of water and let out an amazing series of curses. The language burned her ears, but it did point out the location of a hazard, and she was thus able to avoid it entirely.
Tired but excited, Elizabeth made it to Hatfield a good two hours before the coach was to leave. She gave about even odds that someone would be there by noon and discover her purchase of a ticket, so she bought one that went ten miles in the wrong direction before she could reverse. Ticket in hand, she attached herself to a matron that looked like she would box the ears of anyone silly enough to give her any grief. Elizabeth wanted to learn to be that way herself, and realistically thought she should learn the skill sooner than later. She carried a kitchen knife on her person for some modicum of protection, but she had no idea how to use it. She suspected she was more likely to cut herself or anger her assailant than to do any good, but it was at least something.
Elizabeth's plan avoided London like the plague, reckoning that it was so obvious, it would be easy for someone on horseback to beat her there, even if she got a substantial head start. There were only three coaching stations on the road from Meryton, and it would be child's play to station a man at each, as she suspected her father would do as soon as her absence was discovered.
On top of that, the only people she knew in London were her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and she was not entirely certain where their loyalties lie. She might have gone to them if she had no money at all, but with enough to put her in a boarding house among a group of women for over a year sewn into the seams of her dress, (she had checked), and the local presence of the mills, Elizabeth judged Manchester to be the better bet.
With a start, the horses pulled on the traces, and Elizabeth Bennet, for the first time in her life, followed her sister Mary's advice. She put away her childish things.
Elizabeth watched the scenery floating by out of the coach window with feelings of trepidation, excitement and not a little fear.
Her chosen location in the end was Manchester. It was a slightly unfashionable, but growing metropolis. She thought she would probably be able to get work as a governess, companion, or even nursemaid if necessary. If she got desperate enough, she could even take work in the mills, which were apparently dangerous and dirty, but not very particular. She was quite certain she was voluntarily trading a life of luxury for one of hardship, but it would be her life lived under her terms.
Elizabeth had never experienced true poverty, but she had seen it and wanted no part of it. However, she had also seen couples who seemed devoted to each other and happy, and never observed any correlation between their happiness and their condition in life. She theorized that two people who had enough to eat and feed their children, a roof over their heads, and the right character, could be happy. More money or status brought more leisure, but it did not bring more happiness. She could easily name two Longbourn tenant families who seemed far happier than either the Bennets or the Lucases. Her tradesman aunt and uncle were at least twice as happy, and three times as sensible as the Bennets.
Three very long and tiring days later, she was somewhat shocked at the vagaries of mail coach schedules that had her stop in Lambton, about two thirds of the distance to Manchester. She was under no illusion that she was on the best route to that city, because she had gone to some effort to not go through London. She had studied the mail schedules and worked out routes several years earlier for her own amusement, and this was a route she had considered just because it was a town her Aunt Gardiner hailed from. She had also worked out routes to Cornwall, Scotland and even France, although the latter had obvious drawbacks.
She stepped off the coach, wondering if she would recognize any of the landmarks her Aunt had spoken of. It was a quaint little village. She had been relegated to the half-price seat outside the coach for the past thirty miles, so she was frozen to the bone, but she still took the time to look around and appreciate the place. She marveled that she was escaping by passing right through the eye of the storm. She reckoned she could view her supposed future home if she was willing to walk a few miles. She even briefly considered going up for a look if she could find a cheap enough tourist conveyance, but then scoffed at the idea right away. Her next coach was to leave in six hours, so she would have time to finish her chores and eat.
Elizabeth walked along the main boulevard in Lambton and saw some of the same shops her Aunt had mentioned from time to time. Madeline Gardiner had not returned to the village in some years. Elizabeth had at one time planned a Northern tour with her relatives for the next summer, and Derbyshire had been one of the possible destinations. That was obviously not going to happen, and Elizabeth honestly had no idea whether her relatives would even recognize her again – if she decided to contact them. She could not contact anybody until after her twenty‑first birthday anyway, so she thought that was a problem for later.
After twenty minutes, she found just what she was looking for. Bartlet's was a warm and inviting bookshop, and Elizabeth found inside a much better collection of books than she could find in Meryton, both in quantity and quality. Mr. Bartlet turned out to be a very polite, grandfatherly sort of man with a cheery countenance and real enthusiasm for his trade.
"Welcome, Miss. Come in. Come in. If you have no objection, I must insist you sit a spell by the fire. You look about half‑frozen."
"Thank you. I believe I shall."
True to his word, Mr. Bartlet secured a chair for Elizabeth, sat her by the fire, and even secured her a cup of tea.
Elizabeth smiled. "You are too kind, Mr. Bartlet. I feel guilty, as I fear I cannot really afford any of your wares and I shall be departing the area in a few hours."
The old man chuckled. "Miss – if you did have money, would you be buying or browsing?"
"Yes, of course," she laughed.
"Ma'am – if it is not untoward to say it, any day where a pretty book lover comes into the shop is considered a success, regardless of any purchases. Sit right down and let me get the tea. You can tell me about the last book you read."
Mr. Bartlet and Elizabeth spent a good half‑hour discussing books, and then Elizabeth asked, "Mr. Bartlet, I need to write a letter. Could you sell me the parchment and allow me to borrow a pen and ink?"
"Of course, young lady. Of course. It will be my pleasure."
"And", she asked somewhat pensively, "if I might ask a much larger favor than I have earned. Could you hold my letter for three days, and then mail it?"
Mr. Bartlet had long ago worked out what was happening. Even without speaking to the young lady, her dress and hairstyle may as well have been a sign screaming, 'Runaway', but it was not his business to interfere. The young lady seemed sensible enough, and not overly distressed, so he presumed she had a reason for what she did. It had been quite some years since he had any inclination to poke his nose in other peoples' business.
"Of course, young lady. It would be my privilege."
Elizabeth smiled, and the elder gentleman went to fetch the supplies.
