(This is a scene from the historical novel I am in the process of writing; set in the mid-18th century, as mentioned in an earlier post. Here Louisa describes what happened when she ranaway to London)
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It was only when I alighted from the coach,
at the sign of the White Horse, that I became fully aware of how extremely
foolish I had been, to travel without clear purpose, and with no-one to receive
me, to a city of which I knew nothing. Such a hustle and bustle as I never saw,
with goods and produce piled up everywhere, and people of all degrees hurrying
to and fro about their business! One rough fellow rudely pushed me aside,
without so much as a by-your-leave. Deep puddles of dirty water caused me to
step warily. The sky overhead was dark with a pall of smoke. I had intended to
ask the way to Lord Staines’s home, but now, alone and friendless, I found
myself too timid to ask directions from a stranger. On the steps of the inn, an
elderly man in an old wig and coat ogled me and laughed; but although his
clothes showed him to be a gentleman, he made no attempt to assist me in my
plight.
Only one person marked me and approached as
I stood there afraid and unprotected. This was a woman. She wore a vast skirt,
red in colour and none too clean, with a dark shawl over a white mob-cap. I
could not tell her age, for the paint lay heavy on her cheeks. I felt an
immediate dislike of her; but she smiled and her manner was most obliging.
“Hello, dearie!” she said, “Are you lost?
May I assist you?”
“Thank you!” I replied, “Pray can you direct
me to Lord Staines’s home? I have travelled to London to see him”.
“Lord, my dear: his honour’s house is but a
short step from where I live! Let me conduct you there. You have a travelling
box? My boy Jacky will carry it. Now; what’s your name and where have you come
from?”
“I am called Louisa, and I am the daughter
of Sir James Wilbrahim of Brackenridge Hall”.
“Oh, Louisa: such a pretty name, and face as
pretty as a picture too! And from Brackenridge? Why, my dear, I know that town
well! My uncle used to live there! He was bailiff and churchwarden, Robin
Clewlow was his name, did you hear of him? No? Ah well, it was years ago,
before you were born! Anyway, it’s almost as if we were related! My name is Margaret. Now I shall with
pleasure conduct you to his lordship, but first you must permit this poor old
woman to provide you with some sustenance, for you must be most hungry and
tired after such a long journey!” She prattled on, scarce pausing for breath,
and without putting up resistance I allowed her to take my arm. A coachman made
a very coarse remark as she led me from the inn-yard and out into the street,
but both of us ignored him.
We walked on through many twists and
turnings until I was wholly lost. We passed old buildings crowded together, and
noisome alleys between, where the sun did not penetrate and dirty children
played amongst piles of rubbish. The streets were crowded, and passers-by
jostled us. In this confusion I was glad that my rescuer had my arm, for otherwise
I would have been swept clean away in the throng. Eventually we reached her
house, which I thought a rather mean establishment. The front room had no
carpet or rug on the bare boards of the floor. Three or four women sat around
on benches, and there were pictures on the walls, but before I do more than
glance around I was ushered through to a back parlour.
“Now, my dear, let us have a dish of tea”,
said my hostess, and clapped her hands, at which a slatternly maid appeared and
was given her orders. Jacky, the boy who carried my box, was despatched to run
to Lord Staines’s house to announce my arrival. Whilst we had our tea and cake,
she questioned me closely. Was I indeed Sir James Willington’s daughter? Yes, I
replied; his only child. Did I know Lord Staines well, and did he know I was
coming to London to see him? Not well as yet, I said: I believed our respective
parents were thinking of a marriage, though his lordship had not yet made a
proposal. His lordship had told me I would greatly enjoy the sights of London,
but he did not know I was coming. And amidst all this, she kept complimenting
me on my complexion and my figure.
At this point, young Jacky returned, to
announce that Lord Staines was not at home, nor any of his family, and nobody
would be received that day.
“Well, my dear, here’s a to-do!” said my
hostess (who, as I now recall, had never told me her surname), “Is there anyone
else you know in the town? No? Then you’d best spend the night with me!”
She led me up the stairs to a small room. I
was now so tired that I scarcely noticed that the room was dirty, with the
corners thickly cobwebbed and the bed poorly furnished. I laid down on it and
was quickly asleep. It was only when I awoke that I discovered the door was
locked. And there I was to remain for many days, with nothing to divert me and
no-one to help me; for the small window looked out only on a squalid yard; and
though I might bang on the door and call out, no-one came except the
maidservant, who brought me food but refused to speak to me. I came to lose all
hope of rescue.
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