A brief word from the author: Think "Cold Comfort Farm" meets "Persuasion"
Chapter 1
The woman stirred in her fitful sleep. It was the dream, the same dream, night after, horrible night. She pounded at her pillow and moaned..."I saw something dreadful in the looking glass!"
1814...
"Was the funeral too awful?" inquired Mrs. Mary Smiling as her young friend, Miss Flora Poste, entered the door of her stylish London townhouse.
"Simply ghastly!" replied Flora, as they linked arms and turned to ascend the staircase to the drawing room above. "But, all the London relative's seemed to enjoy it to no end!"
"Did any of them ask you to go and live with them? I meant to warn you about that. Relatives are always wanting you to go and live with them!"
"You forget Mary, that I only have one hundred a year and I can not play Quadrille."
"Of course you can stay here as long as you like, darling; but I suppose you will want to take up some kind of work and earn enough for an establishment of your own."
"What kind of work?" asked Flora, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she sat down.
"It's been ages since I did any! You might want to take up, oh I don't know, pianoforte teaching...harp teaching!"
"I'm afraid I couldn't do any of those things Mary. Anyway, I want to be a writer! I want to write a novel as good as 'The Mysteries of Udolpho' before I'm 53. I have such a lot in common with Mrs. Radcliffe; we both adore intrigue."
"Now Flora, don't be feeble. You know perfectly well that you will be miserable if all your friends have a situation and you don't. Besides, a hundred pounds a year will hardly keep you in muslin and bonnets. What will you live on?"
"Relatives!" replied Flora, brightly, "I peculiarly rich in them."
"But none of them have asked you to live with them!"
"None of the London ones have. I do have a prodigious amount of them all across the country; I'll live with one of them. I'll send off some rather piteous letters in the morning!"
Mary rolled her eyes.
Flora then asked, "What shall we do tonight, Mary? Are any of your redcoated admirers on leave, back from their battles?"
Mary looked to her devoted butler, who busily poured the tea and asked, "Are any of the gentlemen in Town, Sneller?"
"I believe Captain Carter is and Mr. Bertram, ma'am."
"Tom Bertram," cried Flora, "He's a relative, a kind of second cousin!"
"Shall I have a note sent round to White's asking the gentlemen to dinner?" inquired Mary.
Flora simply smiled.
Accordingly at eight o'clock, the two gentlemen arrived where they partook of an elegant meal laid out by Mrs. Smilings servants. When dinner was over, the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after brandy and cigars. Mr. Bertram took it upon himself to ask Flora about her future plans.
"Mary says that you're looking out for a place to live."
Flora cast a weary glance in her friends direction and said, in a slightly perturbed fashion, "Really Mary, you should not have mentioned that, now Tom will think I want to go and live with him at Mansfield!"
Mary ignored her and turned all of her attention on the attentive Captain Carter.
"I think it would be fabulous idea," said Tom resolutely, "and you know mother would love it, with Fanny married and gone and all."
Flora eyed her cousin mischievously and said, "You know perfectly well that wherever I go I have to tidy up and change things around. You, my dear Tom and the rest of the Bertrams', are not enough of a challenge, you seem tidy already (all that family unpleasantness of last year has been cleared up, has it not). No, I'll find some other relatives that need my assistance."
"Well, replied Tom, "if you get sick of it, wherever you are, send a note and I will come fetch you in my gig and rescue you."
"Have you your own gig, Tom?"
"Yes, I had to give up the hunter after the fall you know," responded Tom rather sheepishly.
"But really Tom," teased Flora, "should a lively young man such as yourself, have a gig. You would do much better with a curricle. The gig might upset one day and toss you into a ditch!"
Tom laughed and looked at his cousin lovingly.
Nevertheless, the following day, Flora wrote three letters. In the course of three days time, three replies came to her at Mrs. Smilings Chelsea home, number Three Woodcock Place the morning of the third day. Sneller presented the tray.
"Post, Miss Poste."
"There!" cried Mrs. Smiling in dismay. "They've all answered, now you'll be sorry!"
Flora chose to ignore Mary and she eagerly tore into the first letter from an Aunt in Hertfordshire. She read aloud.
My dear niece,
I am very sorry for your lost but I have been very busy seeking out suitable husbands for my five girls. Perhaps, I could offer you a home at Longbourn, as long as you realize that my daughters needs in the husband department come first. One of your cousins could share their bedchamber with you. If I remember correctly, you are a rather...good sort of young lady. Not as handsome as my dear Jane, I'm sure, or as accomplished as Mary, or as lively as my little Lydia, or as... dainty as Catherine, and as for Elizabeth...well, now that I think about it, you had much better share with Lizzie.Your Aunt,
Mrs. J. Bennet
Flora shuttered and said, "Share? No, I couldn't possibly!"
The second letter was from an elderly uncle in Surrey. The handwriting was in the quivering style of an aged person who was possibly afflicted with rheumatism or some other such malady. Flora turned the letter around so Mrs. Smiling could look at the deplorable penmanship. Mary brought both of her hands up to her cheeks in feigned disbelief.
Dear Niece,
I would love to shelter your delicate girlhood under my roof. I always say that girls are always such delicate creatures. But alas, you might find the life here quite trying. The house has a tendency to be draughty and the walk to the nearest village of Highbury is a full half mile away and I fear would be somewhat fatiguing.My cook is excellent though and does make a wonderful gruel, not too thin or too thick; and there are always an abundance of lightly coddled eggs, nothing hard-boiled mind you, but then sometimes she does softly boil them. I find that my constitution can not withstand a hard-boiled egg. I also hope you don't eat cake. My physician, Mr. Perry would (no doubt) instruct you on the proper things to eat.
However, if you do decide to come, you will be assured of plenty of company. My newly wedded daughter Emma and her husband Mr. Knightly have made their home here in this house; and my other daughter, Isabella often visit's with her husband and four young children of which one is a baby. If I were you, I would do my best to keep clear of the baby; babies often carry some sort of disease or infection or...
Flora and Mary each looked at each other and shook their heads.
Mrs. Smiling said with a shudder, "No Flora, no!"
The last letter was from distant cousin in Somersetshire. Flora opened it and handed the envelope to Mrs. Smiling, who brought it up to her nose and quickly held it away at arms length; it smelled of a hideously sweet gentleman's fragrance, which probably cost more then it ought.
My Dear Cousin,
I half expected to hear from the daughter of my cousin Robert Poste these last few years. William, my nephew and heir, did your father a great wrong and if you will come to us, I will do my best to atone for the rights that should have naturally been yours as a member of this noble family. But you must never ask me to speak of it, my lips are sealed.We Elliot's are not like other people, for we have been graced with astonishing beauty, (well, some of us) and there have always been Elliot's at Old Kellynch Hall; it says so in the Baronetage. We will do are best to welcome Robert Poste's child. Perhaps you can be of use to my eldest daughter.
Your Cousin,
Sir Walter Elliot, Baronet
Old Kellynch Hall, Somersetshire
Etc, Etc.P.S. Child, child, if you come to this grand house, we will try not to look down on you if you are not still in bloom or if you have an unfortunate complexion.
"Sir Walter Elliot?" questioned Mary.
"Yes, cousin to my father. Father could not abide him; I wonder why."
"It sounds appalling!" Mary exclaimed.
"Interesting and appalling, the others just sound appalling!" cried Flora.
"Well," commented Mary. "If you have really made up your mind, you had better go. You'll soon grow tired of it anyhow!"
"Yes, I think I will go to Somerset. I'm keen to see what Cousin Walter means by my rights! Perhaps, I can tidy up some family disagreement or something. And I'm willing to bet that the daughters are called Elizabeth and Anne."
"And why is that pray?"
"Country estates always have a daughter or two running around by those names, it's a regular thing!"
Flora immediately set out to respond to her cousin to accept his invitation. When she finished that letter, she sent a note round to her cousin Tom at his club, asking him to arrange passage for her by post for the next day. When the next day came, Flora was startled to see that her cousin had arrived to escort her to the post-house himself in his new gig. He eagerly stepped forward to assist her into the carriage and once she was comfortably seated, he presented her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
"Something to take to the country," he said.
"Flowers come from the country, Tom!" Mrs. Smiling interjected as she rolled her eyes at his obvious stupidity.
"Thank you, Tom," Flora remarked cheerfully. "And also, thank you for taking me to the post-house, I love being sent off in style, even though a gig is not quite a Barouche." Flora turned in her seat to take a farewell look at her friend.
"Do be careful Flora," said Mary. "You have to change chaises four times and get off somewhere called Taunton. And mind you send a letter if you need anything. I can send things."
"What sort of things?" asked Flora.
"Oh, I don't know, proper clothes, cheerful pattern books; you'll need them; you've never lived in the country before."
"Thank you for everything Mary, good-bye!"
Flora kissed her friend affectionately as Tom leapt into the gig on the other side. He urged to horse forward. It was the beginning of Flora's journey to her new life.