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 There was also a full-skirted coat with huge flap pockets, years out of date, but she didn’t care about that—it would be safer to travel as a young man.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.
There was no one about. She crept downstairs, aware of every creak of the treads, and the rattling of utensils coming from the kitchen where the scullery maid was beginning her day’s tasks. Carefully she withdrew the bolts on the front door, let herself out and sped down the drive.
It was only a short walk into Sudbury and Beth’s only concern was that no one should see her and recognise her, but, as it was not yet fully light, she thought her disguise would pass muster. She had never been in an inn before, had never travelled on a public coach, not even with an escort, never mind alone, and she was nervous. Pulling herself together and pretending nonchalance, she approached the ticket office and asked for a seat on the next coach to London. It was hardly in her hand when the coach arrived in a flurry of tooting horns, sweating horses and scurrying ostlers. The horses were changed, those passengers who had left their seats for refreshment and those starting their journey in Sudbury were called to their places and they were on their way.
It was only as they left the town behind, that Beth, squashed between a fat lady with a live chicken in a basket on her lap and a countryman in a shovel hat who had not washed in a year, began to appreciate the enormity of what she had done. It had seemed easy enough when she had been in her room at home, nursing a grievance against her mother and uncle, not to mention Toby himself; all she had to do was get on a coach and she would be conveyed to London. But now she was on her way, she was beset by doubts mixed with a good helping of guilt. Had her mother missed her? Had she understood the letter she left behind? Would she be very angry? Would she send someone after her? There would be no reason for that, she decided, considering she had made it clear in her letter that she would be back the following morning.
The other passengers were giving her some strange looks and she shrank back in her seat, wishing she could stop the coach and get off. Would the coachman let her off or would he say that she must go on to the next scheduled stop? She pretended to look out of the window at the hedgerows flashing past and chided herself for her lack of spirit. What was so frightening about travelling by stage coach? People did it all the time.
They rattled on, stopping now and again to change the horses and to put down and pick up new passengers, and just under seven hours after they set out, she was climbing down in the yard of the Spread Eagle in Piccadilly. She was hungry and considered going into the inn and ordering food, but nervousness overcame her again and she decided she could wait until she saw Toby. They would eat together while they talked.
‘Where do I go for a cab?’ she asked an ostler, who was carrying tack across the cobbles.
‘There’s a row of them in the street. Take your pick,’ he said, without stopping. She was inclined to be annoyed by his lack of courtesy, but then remembered she was supposed to be a boy and a young one too, considering her chin was as smooth as silk. She thanked him and went in search of a cab.
Half an hour later she was being deposited at the entrance to the East India docks. The smell of the river dominated everything and beyond the buildings that lined the dock, she could see the tall masts of ships lying at anchor. She walked forward slowly, unsure of herself. The quay was busy; dockers, sailors, passengers, luggage and mountains of stores vied for the available space. One ship was being unloaded, but another was almost ready for departure, judging by the seamen scurrying about on deck. The name on its side was Princess Charlotte. The gangplank had not yet been raised and she hurried to the foot of it, wondering if she dared climb aboard.
She became aware of a group of sailors watching her as she hesitated.
‘Running away to sea?’ one of them asked her suddenly.
‘No. I’m meeting a friend—’ She stopped suddenly because they were laughing.
‘Meeting a friend, eh?’ said the man, moving towards her, making her step back in alarm. ‘Now would that friend be going or coming?’
‘Going. On the Princess Charlotte.’
‘Then watch out you don’t get carried away alonga him. Pretty little boy like you would be welcome…’
She cringed away from him, frightened by their raucous laugh. If only Toby would come. She wondered whether to cut and run, but decided that would make matters worse and stood her ground.
Andrew Melhurst was directing the loading of his luggage from the customs shed on to a large flat wagon. It was extraordinary how much one accumulated in seven years of living abroad. He had pared it down to necessities before leaving, but there was still enough to fill the wagon. It had been dumped on the quay when the ship was unloaded, as if the shipping company, having conveyed it thus far, wanted nothing more to do with it. Too concerned about his grandfather’s health to bother with it right away, he had paid to have it stored in the customs shed and gone home, intending to send others back to fetch it for him.
He had been relieved to discover that old Lord Melhurst had rallied while he had been on the high seas and so he had decided it was safe to return with a couple of estate workers and hire a wagon to oversee the moving of his possessions himself. Besides the usual things like clothes and personal possessions, there were antiquities and stuffed animals and carefully wrapped seeds he had collected in the mountains of the Himalayas, which he hoped to propagate. He had also brought one or two plants, carefully packed in special containers, which he had taken home with him. Leaving them on the docks to be handled by hired help who would not understand the need for care would not have been a good idea.
He
