Time for the back story to come out, one small event to change a young girls path I hope you enjoy.


Chapter 2


~ Sunday, the twenty seventh of October, after church ~

Well, today's sermon got me thinking. I have better not tell Mary or she will try to get me to read her boring religious books, and I do not think I can deal with more than one sermon a week, even good ones like today. I love Mary, but I really do not love her book choices sometimes.

Reverend Thompson talked about remembrance and gratefulness. Lizzy was holding my hand, I like it when she does, her hands are always so warm and the church so cold. I wonder if Lizzy's blood is warmer than other people.

I never wrote what my Lizzy did for me that day, and all the days that followed. I think I was too young at the time and did not write well. I guess that is one more thing I owe my second sister, she taught me how to enjoy reading and writing, and she got me my first journal so I could get all my thoughts out of my head to look at them and tidy them up as she says. Life is less confusing when you have time to look at your thoughts.

And she made me discover how to read deeper inside books, so you don't just see the words, but you can close your eyes and have whole worlds taking shape in your mind. Lizzy made books come to life for me, and now I like so many books so much more. Although I still do not like the Greek histories, too many people with strange names. Shakespeare's tragedies are so dreamy, Lizzy prefers the comedies, for she loves to laugh, but the tragedies are so very romantic, they are perfect for me. Mary loves the histories and all sorts of religious tomes that make me sleepy, but when she and Lizzy do stories for our cousins, Mary has a real talent for doing voices that get the little ones roaring with laughter.

Anyway, I meant to say that was nearly two years later by the time I could write well enough to explain all that happened. Mama never believed it when we told her, and Papa did not care much as we were both back safely at home by then. I do not think Papa has much ability to care. Empathy – that is a word Lizzy taught me last month and I really like what it means – Papa has very little empathy. And he is a bit lazy – lackadaisical Lizzy said, which is a very long and more polite word for Papa I guess.

Well, here it is, I will write it today, I have time, it is Sunday and it is raining, again, and I need to make sure I can always remember and be grateful. I already fear I have forgotten many details.

Let see, I am not sure how to start.

Deep breath and let the thoughts come, Lizzy would say.

Deep breath.

It was a Tuesday, about half an hour after the butcher had made his weekly delivery. He had brought some liver as Mama used to say it was healthy for growing children, but I really hate the smell, taste, texture, and even the look of it. I saw it in the kitchen, I think I was sneaking down there for a biscuit, as I love biscuits. I started screaming at Cook that I did not want liver, ever.

I was not really a nice child, or at least I do not think I was, even though Lizzy told me she loved me so much already. I would not love a child as spoiled as I was, I am sure, but she is much kinder than me. Oh I did not say, I was still a small child, only nine years of age, and my legs were much shorter than now; I was not fast and not strong like I am now. It was summer, July seventh, I do not think I will ever forget the day even if some details get blurred with time.

Anyway, after my tantrum around the liver, for it was a tantrum, and after both Cook and Mrs Hill had told me that we would have the dish on the morrow as that was Mama's instruction, I decided to run away from home so that I would not eat the vile offal.

How silly I was, as if I could run away and survive at nine years old, it seems so ridiculous now I am grown, for I am soon to be sixteen, well in a little over seven months, which is soon, and I am taller than Lizzy, Kitty and Mary already.

I remember taking the old purple reticule my Grand-Mama had given me to play with, I really loved purple, still do in fact, purple and blue, I had put a few ribbons and the very few coins I had not spent that month inside, as well as the tiny doll Lizzy had made me out of an old favourite dress I had outgrown. She had made me a lovely pillow with the dress too, but that was too big to take with me.

I started walking towards Meryton to take the coach to London – they would not have let me, but I did not think of that then - I got scared when a dog growled and barked at me. I had never seen that dog before, so I thought I would cut across the lower field that separate us from Lucas Lodge to escape him – again, what a silly goose I was, the dog could have followed so easily had he wanted to! and he did not follow, that means I would have been safe enough on the road. Instead, I was where no one could see me or help me.

Then I saw them.

The caravans. The horses. The brightly dressed women and children. And then, the men.

They were on the edge of the field I was crossing, partially concealed by the little wood there; I could see them as I was well in the field already, but from the road, I am not sure I would have noticed anything.

They saw me too.

An older man came towards me, perhaps he was their leader. Do gypsies have leaders, or masters, or chieftains? I don't really know, are there books that talk of that? Papa has none, I am sure.

Anyway, he came at me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. I was not strong enough, and I was too scared anyway, I could not break free or run away.

He had an accent when he spoke, but I could understand him – I could not understand what some of the women were saying, so it must have been a foreign language; I know it wasn't French or Italian as Lizzy has taught me a little of both since. He told me I would go with them as they needed more girl children.

I do not know why they would need more girls; Mama always says boys are more useful and she wishes Lizzy or Mary had been born male.

I was so scared. I did not want to go with them.

And then I heard her, my Lizzy, my older sister, already quite grown up at fourteen years old, in attitude at least, not height yet, and so strong and brave.

She seemed to appear out of nowhere, although I expect she had just been at the edge of the wood. Maybe she was following me to keep me safe, that would be like her, give me time to cool my anger, then comfort me and take me home.

She told him to unhand me, and then she lied – I know she did.

Lizzy never lied, she still doesn't, for she believes it is much easier to tell the truth and it never gets you in trouble quite so much. I sometimes lie to Mama or Papa as they can be so difficult, I know I should not, but I do not like being told off; I will think about Lizzy's philosophy maybe. But that day, she openly, plainly lied.

She used her most authoritarian voice, I think she tried to sound like old Mrs Goddard who used to run a girl school somewhere in Surrey or Sussex before retiring to Meryton to be with her niece. It was impressive.

She told the chief or elder or whatever he was that she had just sent her manservant to fetch the constable and the magistrate, and that unless they let me go, they would be jailed. I am certain she walked alone as usual, and none of the boys working the stables at Longbourn have ever been referred to as 'Manservant', although they might like it better than just 'boy', it sounds much smarter.

She even said with a haughty smirk that 'our good friend, Sir William who goes to St James each year' would prosecute them for trespass and kidnapping, so as they would not be allowed to escape with gentle-born young ladies with friends in high society, they should let us go home and quietly depart the county without making any trouble. As if I was any sort of lady at that age, what a joke, I was pure hoyden-bred, and Lizzy was not always so ladylike as she is now, always with mud on her hems; it is lucky it was a dry day and she looked all proper.

I have no idea how she managed that smirk; it really isn't like her at all. And Sir William has only been to St James once, even if he speaks of it so much. He may have prosecuted them for kidnapping, for that is a hanging offence, and I think he is fond of us, but trespass? He would be more likely to invite a robber to his home for a meal than to prosecute the fellow.

Her threat must have made that gypsy man think a bit for he said nothing; I still was too scared to move on my own, even when his grip loosened enough, so she simply walked to me, and stopped a few inches from the man. I wish I could explain better, but she was looking down at him despite being so much shorter than he was – one day she will have to teach me how to do that! She calmly took my hand, turned with a toss of her pretty head, and walked away as if nothing had happened, half dragging me behind.

Such relief.

None of them followed us as we walked straight to Lucas Lodge - it was much closer than home, and the way was well in the open after we left their encampment, no woods to cross.

I was crying so much by then that Lizzy told the whole story to Sir William on her own; our neighbour is normally soft hearted, but he sent a few servants directly to ensure the travelling group left. And they did leave, they were already packed and harnessing their horses when the men arrived to see them off.

A whole troupe (are they troupes, groups, families, bands… what on earth do you call large gatherings of Gypsies?) scared away by a fiery little brunette, barely fourteen, not very tall yet, with no help or backup from anyone.

That is who my sister is, someone who will never back down and ignore problems, someone who will protect even a silly young sister who has tantrums and runs away, someone who commands respect from much older folks, just by the strength of her will and character.

My Lizzy.

That is what I was grateful for when Mr Thompson asked us to think about it – I am forever grateful Lizzy is my sister and loves me with all my faults.

I think I will stop here; this is more writing than my usual entries, and I need to go see Lizzy and remind her I love her now. Maybe she will give me one of her wonderful hugs, I think I need it today.

LMB


~ Monday the twenty eighth of October, too early in the morning ~

I had to get up and write more, I woke up and realised I never wrote about everything Lizzy did after she rescued me.

Sir William, who manages to be both ridiculous in company and efficient and helpful when he needs to be, took us home in the little gig he had just bought – he still has it but Charlotte uses it more now. He was cheerful all the way, looking back I see that he and Lizzy were distracting me, so that I stopped crying.

We went straight to Papa's book room, and I started crying again, but more quietly now. Lizzy told the story again, with Sir William adding the information his men had brought back.

Papa hardly reacted and asked no questions, at least while we were there, so Lizzy took me in her arms for a long warm hug, then she took me out of the room, to the bedroom she shares with Jane, and we sat on the bed.

That was the first night I spent with her, she asked Jane to sleep with Kitty in our room, so she could look after me – poor Kitty, Jane kicks when she sleeps. She talked with me for hours; she never told me off for running away, not that night, not any other night.

For a whole year after that I slept with her once every week, on Sunday nights. She is amazingly warm in winter, the best bedfellow ever, much better than Kitty, I think that's why Jane said no when I wanted to swap permanently, but maybe it is because Kitty didn't like being kicked. Now I only sleep in Lizzy's room a few times a year, although she always find an excuse to have me around that time in July for a few nights; Jane and Kitty both know it's just excuses, but they don't say anything; they are good sisters.

Lizzy helped me so much, I was scared of everything for weeks, thoughts were all of a jumble in my head, I was nearly as quiet and shy as Kitty. But she listened, and talked to me when I needed her. She protected me, I think she still does. And she taught me so much, all so that I went back to being confident and myself.

Papa never spoke about that day again, not to us anyway, and I expect not to anyone. Mama did not believe Lizzy when she told her what happened. She never believes Lizzy, but that time it hurt me a lot, as I could not yet talk about it and defend my sister. The storm of thoughts in my head took so long to calm down, and even now if I get too excited or too worried, everything just jumbles right back up. Lizzy knows when and how to help, she always does.

I may be silly at times, and I may be a little too lively and noisy when I am having fun, but now I know how to stay safe, and I will always listen to my sister's advice, well I will try anyway.

I wonder if one day I can help her as much as she helped me.

But now I am hungry, so I will write more another day.

LMB