23 Hours (Part 5)

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I stood with Captain Faye’s gun levelled at my elegant coiffure and found myself to be as frozen as though an inclement and unseasonable snow fall had descended upon my head. I was rendered incapable of a response more articulate than,
“ I beg you pardon? Captain, I do not understand.”
“Lady Maria lower your weapon!” Then speaking to the churl before us, “Baker, has all been accomplished?”
“Yes Sir, I have removed five and twenty minutes worth of sand from the weapon.” Was Baker’s reply.
“Very good. Pray, the two of you ready the carriage, I shall be there presently.” Said Captain Faye as he stood beside me still pointing his weapon at my head in what must have been an unbecoming fashion. Upon Captain Faye’s words the two men departed to prepare for their escape. I turned to my captor with my visage arranged into an expression I was confident conveyed the depth of my betrayal.
“Captain, this is unfathomable!” Said I. he looked at me in a manner I found to be pretentious.
“Then allow me render it as clear as that magnificent jewel about your neck.” He glanced down an the diamond I wore at that moment, as you know it is a specimen of a beauteous quality and there is no better example of clarity. “I am indeed aiding those who wish to dispatch the monarchy, there is the devil in the sovereignty!”
I found myself entirely perplexed by his sentiment.
“In the King?” I asked
“In all of them, we ought follow America’s lead and rid ourselves of such an indulgence as a King and Queen. They are quite out of fashion these days.” he continued in this manner until I had ceased both to listen or to care, however his tone begun to cause me great irritation and I found myself compelled to scream,
“You treasonous churl!”
It would appear that he took my words in bad part because any wisp of patient inclination he had afore felt vanished and he bid me to kneel. Feeling that perhaps I may need a little aid to prevent the Captain dispatching me forthwith I called for my husband but before I had uttered his name for the second time I found that I was ceased as roughly as though I was a poacher apprehended by a vigilant game keeper.
“Unhand me Sir, such a horrifying lack of propriety.” I said.
“Do not attempt to lecture me upon propriety madam, such a sermon would be feeble indeed from your lips. A woman who conducts herself as you do, wielding a weapon as though you were a man, can have no pretence at respectability. You Maria are a dissembler, a whited sepulcher. Now upon your knees.”
I could see no escape and got upon my knees however I was not beyond the lowly ploy of delay.”
“We confided in you, you are Woodville’s closest friend I believed you to be a gentleman!“ I said in an attempt to express my sentiment of treachery. Captain Faye had suddenly become as silent as the grave and I knew that his finger must undoubtedly be upon the trigger of his pistol. I waited in a state of heightened dread and fear that could only be matched by the previous time I had found myself upon my knees at the mercy of a despicable cowardly fiend. I reflected that such incidents had become disagreeably frequent.
It was above five minutes before I realised I was still alive and was continuing to reflect upon the regularity upon which my life has been threatened with surprising leisure, I turned and found my confusion increase when I saw that Captain Faye had gone, he had left me alive and fled. It was then that I heard Woodville ascending the stairs behind me, I knew it was my husband for he has a distinctive third step of his right foot.
“Woodville,” I gasped “Woodville, it was Faye, he was the one, the rogue, all this time!”
“Maria, my dear please speak more candidly.” Said Woodville in some confusion.
“It was Faye, this has been his scheme all along. He has played us all for fools, he has had us trusting in his character, like naïve debutants trusts an eloquently spoken libertine!” Said I.
“Son of a churl!” was my husband’s vexed response. “I shall dispatch him this instant!”
Woodville turned and tried to hasten away with his weapon in hand.
“Nay, Woodville, there is no time to avenge such betrayal. They removed much of the sand from the weapon, we have nigh on a moment to stop this catastrophe. I shall signal to the footmen to seize him before he can get too far.”
As Woodville turned his attention to the weapon, unfurling the plans Elizabeth had discovered at Peterson’s house, I drew from my pocket a handkerchief and began embroidering it with the words “PRAY CEASE FAYE, FOR HE IS THE CULPRIT!” As I threw the elegant work from the window, entrusting our loyal servants to apprehend the vagabond churl who had so nearly disarranged my composure by dispatching me, my husband cried in frustration.
“It has not worked!” Said he. “The mechanism is more complex than it’s predecessor, it will not desist.”
The sudden inescapability of our peril was almost overwhelming and yet I saw what I thought might be an agreeable alternative, that we ought carry the terrifying object and run as fast as my gown will allow, we could throw it into the Thames to destroy it!
“We have not the time!” Replied Woodville “ Burn it, we must set it alight and burn each of these deuced hankies at once! But Maria you must get everyone to take leave of this place.”
“Henry how shall such a thing be managed? What shall I say to them?” I enquired as I became acutely aware that my dear husband had asked me to empty the building of the monarchy and parliament in the midst of the Prince’s marriage ceremony.
“Maria, tell them anything, tell them the French are here!” Said Woodville.
I had turned and was verging upon dancing forward, for the music had recommenced and I was taken with my adoration for the cotillion once more, when the jeopardy that faced Woodville presented itself with the force of a highwayman landing upon a coach to capture its occupants and I found the notion of parting from my dearest husband was a notion that was intolerable. My reluctance was evidently poorly concealed because Woodville said with tones of the utmost desperation. “Pray take your leave of me. I will join you by and by … upon my honour I will.”
With a final glance at my dear husband I fled and it was not long before I found myself in the knave of the abbey once more. Overcoming my timidity as I faced their Majesties I said
“Your Majesties, ladies and gentlemen, pray forgive this vulgar and uncouth interruption but the French are coming!”
My abrupt ill mannered outburst was met with silence that was reminiscent of the quiet that meets an admiral whence he announces the ship is sinking, it was instantly followed by a level of hysteria I had not afore witnessed where cries of “THE FRENCH ARE COMING” came from above one member of the royal family, and I believe a verse of “Rule Britania” was discernable from the congregation. As I ran from the abbey amongst the crowd ensuring that every member of Parliament or person of royal descent had escaped I saw Elizabeth and Mr. Hand hastening forwards to assist me.
“Lady Woodville, Pray are you well? … But where is lord Woodville?” Enquired Hand.
“ The only way to prevent the Influenza from escaping was to burn the wretched thing. He remained behind to start the fire, he ought be with us soon.” Said I, however upon my words I noticed a look fall upon their faces that seemed to convey their doubt in my earnest assurances. I turned and chanced a glance at the Abbey and was met with a sight of such horrific magnitude that I screamed with a considerable lack of delicacy.
The Abbey doors were secured and from inside a mighty blaze was distinguishable, flames began to escape from the windows and roof. My senses abandoned me and had Elizabeth and Mr. Hand not restrained me with a severe want of decorum I should have run forthwith into the burning mess that was the Abbey for the only thing that occupied my mind was the impending expiration of my dear Woodville. Their grasps were suddenly not substantial and I broke free from their restraint, but as I ran forward with a haste suited to a cowards retreat, a blast came from behind the Abbey’s doors. The force of flash threw me to the ground and I found I was not instantly able to stand. Hand came to my aid.
“Lady Woodville,” Said Hand as he handed me to my feet and tried to move me away from the fire. “Pray accept my humble apologies but I fear there is nought that can be done for him now. He has in all likelihood perished, however he did so gallantly. His sacrifice has saved the monarchy and government.”
But what cared I for gallant sacrifice if my husband had expired so wickedly. I wished I could abandon myself to the blissful indulgence of oblivion, I longed to succumb to a nervous faint but no such fit would seize me. Instead I endured the agony of watching as the Abbey was consumed by flame, as was my hope for Henry’s survival.
I was hardly aware that it was now rendered necessary for Mr. Hand to aid me by offering his arm. My eyes would not be torn from the sight before me as another fiery blow brought about the collapse of the eastern side. It could be borne no longer, I turned away from the Abbey.
I was attempting to regain my senses by accepting some intoxicating liquor from an inebriated peasant in the crowd whence a cry was heard from the Prince.
“Upon my word, what is that?” Said his royal highness.
The murmur was continued from all amongst us until …
“Nay it is an impossibility!” Said Elizabeth, “It is Henry!” Continued she in atone that was indicative by every syllable of miraculous and heroic events. I turned eagerly and was met with a sight that rivalled the most elegant and abundant ballroom. For emerging from the Abbey was Woodville, in a state of disreputable and unclean undress, sister he was in his shirt sleeves!
He was so darkened by soot that had I not been so acutely aware it was my husband I should undoubtedly have believed him to be a coal merchant. And yet he seemed remarkably unscathed for though his gait was indicative of pain, every third step revealed that he was not mortally wounded.

It was with a sense of indescribable joyous relief that I disregarded every convention of polite society and ran forth to embrace him with no pretence at propriety (despite the presence of the monarchy!) I cared not that they looked on in scandalised horror, nor that my reputation would unquestionably suffer from such an open display of affection. It was some time before Henry felt the inclination to speak.
“The Influenza was undoubtedly destroyed in the fire.” Said he. “And Captain Faye expired with indecent haste.” My husband must have seen my sentiments of confusion upon my visage for he continued,
“He saw the footmen and decided that the most prudent course of action was in fact to return to the very heart of an Abbey that was burning all about us. It is over!”

Dearest Catherine, my husband’s judgement was sound as ever for the catastrophe and disastrous peril was indeed averted and all the flamboyant danger was at an end!
Sister, I must once again offer you my sincere apologies for harming your delicate sensibilities thus with my ostentatious and extravagant description of such distressing jeopardy. Perhaps upon reaching the close of this letter you may feel it desirous to use your smelling salts and nerve tonic, however I hope you are sufficiently recovered to attend our ball at Woodville park in honour of the continued survival of the king.

Yours in joyful escape from early widowhood,
Maria Woodville.

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23 Hours (Part Four)

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24, 24 parody, jane Austen, Jane austen parody, letters, Regency, regency letters, regency parodies, Regency period, Regency Wedding, Royal Wedding, Royal Wedding Special, short stories, twenty four

I am aware that this story was only supposed to be in three parts, but I have found that brevity is not my strong point! Not surprisingly, therefore, this is not quite the end …

My Dearest Catherine,
Once again I am forced to neglect your finer sentiments by not indulging in enquiring after your health. I ought also warn you, dear sister, that before the close of this letter you will doubtless be fearful of my imminent and irreversible death. However I wish to remind you that you hold in your hands proof that such an event has not yet occurred.

We arrived at the abbey at precisely the hour dictated by propriety as punctual. We had assembled about our carriages which, were the essence of discretion, being placed at the back of the abbey and unloaded our not inconsiderable armoury from our Barouches. Whence I had concealed my weapons beneath my gown which was an outfit most suited to such a royal occasion. Woodville and I entered the Abbey as guests and Captain Faye under the pretence of being in a position of authority within the militia. However for reasons of practicality and propriety our footmen would not be accompanying us inside. Thus Woodville and I entered passing a great number of loyal and merry churls who lined the approach to the abbey all of whom waved jovially, evidently knowing that we highly distinguished guests.

Once inside the Abbey having greeted anyone of any consequence including Lady Goodall (whose hat, my dear sister, was remarkable in more ways than one), we turned our intelligence to identifying whom within the congregation was working for Peterson, this was not a task which required a lot of attention as, despite their attempt to disguise themselves as acquaintances of the royal family their visages were unmistakably rustic and therefore could deceive no one.
Thus the siege commenced. Woodville and I progressed side by side around the edge of the Abbey capturing and slaying as many of Peterson’s guards as was within our power to do. It was perhaps fortunate that the bride’s taste for vulgarity and pomp had been allowed to influence the music for the Abbey was filled with overtures, which although more than a little unsuitable for the marriage ceremony, allowed us to fire our weapons at will entirely unnoticed by the congregation. Also I found that the rousing tune rendered us excessively light of foot as well as lending a certain elegance to the battle.

We had not yet thwarted all our enemy, indeed I was midway through duelling a particularly gouty churl, when we became aware that the music had ceased and there was above one member of the congregation was whispering with their neighbour in tones of surreptitious horror. Fearing that perhaps we had been discovered and exposed ourselves to unwanted attentions I paused momentarily with my pistol raised to his brow whence I noticed what caused such frivolous conduct; the bride appeared to be absent from the proceedings. The groom was standing entirely alone at the waiting for his betrothed whose arrival was beyond late.

I surveyed the Abbey with rising confusion, I feared that perhaps the capture of the bride was an occurrence we had not foreseen.
“Maria, you must find the bride,” Called Woodville momentarily halting in the act of duelled two of Peterson’s men at once “for such a scandalous absence will cause gossip amongst society and in order to end this plot it is essential that all passes without disruption.”
Striking the man before me and rendering him senseless, I ventured forth toward the anti-room. To ensure that I was not once more entering a well conceived ambush I advanced with my pistol ahead of me and pointed it flamboyantly around the room. I instantly became aware sound of despairing lamentation emitting from a veritable mound of white silk and muslin. I knew I had discovered the bride; she had whole heartedly abandoned herself to girlish impropriety. Upon comforting the poor creature it became apparent that she had not been subject to excessive misfortune but had merely fallen prey to those feminine follies of doubt and the hope of a better prospect.

“My dearest Augusta,” said I whence she had full explained what caused her acute distress “I am all sympathy for your distress, I am, but there is nought that can be done. One cannot simply throw over the prince. Think of your reputation … you would doubtless be shunned from court and all decent society.”
“Oh Maria,” Gasped she in alarm. “Such a thing could not be borne!”
I handed her to her feet, and upon doing so I was offered a most advantageous view of her gown, which, sister, was indeed of precisely the same style as mine. Though I couldn’t help but admire the gowns beauty I was more than a little vexed with Augusta. She left the vestry with surprising resolve for one so nearly overwhelmed by the hysterics. I followed full of determination to continue the battle but I was swiftly aware that I had not seen Captain Faye in above four and twenty minutes. However my thoughts upon his whereabouts were soon interrupted by the sight of an ill disguised rustic rushing past and hurrying up a wooden scaffold leading far above the congregation. I made all haste to pursue the man who had an intolerable smirk. It was not long until I had reached the top of the scaffold and concealing myself carefully was able to survey him as he approached what I knew instantly to be the Influenza weapon, and it was indeed five and thirty times as large as the one in Peterson’s home. To my horror the churl was not alone, their was a guard posted directly before it, there now lay two heavily armed and highly impertinent peasents betwixt me and the weapon.

“I have been asked to bring forward the time of the attack.” The churl I had followed spoke to his companion “The Woodville’s have discovered us and are full intending to stop us, make haste remove the sand.”
His words sent chills of some magnitude through me on more than one account. First because I was astonished that our scheme was so evidently discovered. Second because we now found ourselves with an even graver lack of time in which to prevent the destruction of the monarchy; and third because this despicable vagabond had not used our title and therefore I found myself grossly insulted. As the man began to remove sand from the hourglass, which would undoubtedly cause the infernal weapon to release its violent content soonerthan was desirable, I stepped forth from the shadows holding my weapon aloft and spoke with aristocratic authority.
“Cease what you are doing and step away from the Influenza weapon.” Said I.
Hearing my voice they both displayed considerable surprise but little alarm and turned to face me with a most intolerable look of amusement upon their faces. “Throw down your muskets sirs and lower yourselves to your knees.”
They did not respond in a manner that was at all agreeable, indeed it was quite the opposite.
“Nay Madam, why do not you lower your weapon and get upon your knees!” was their despicable reply. Suddenly from behind I heard the sound of footsteps. I chanced a glance over my shoulder and felt the sort of relief one commonly associates with no longer fearing one’s imminent doom, for standing just behind me now was Captain Faye, his weapon raised and a look of triumph upon his visage.
“Oh Captain Faye, Thank heavens you are here sir.” Was my cordial greeting.
Despite my amicable warmth I was met with the following (sister, allow me to warn you this will be beyond your understanding of the emotions commonly associated with shock).
“Lady Maria, lower your weapon Ma’am.” Captain Faye’s said in tones full of malice as he pointed his gun direct at my temple …

23 Hours, Part the Third.

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24, 24 parody, jane Austen, Jane austen parody, letters, Regency, regency letters, regency parodies, Regency Wedding, Royal Wedding, Royal Wedding Special, short stories

My dearest Catherine, I am certain that having been the recipient of such a letter you have undoubtedly had pause in your reading of it to compose yourself (I am only too aware of how you suffer from your nerves) I hope you are now sufficiently restored to continue your perusal.

Woodville and I continued to face the afore mentioned Influenza weapon which grew ever more sinister with each grain of sand that passed through the hour glass. Had I not felt that such a vice would tend toward the vulgar I should have cursed like an ill bred sailor, Woodville however displayed no such restraint.

“Damnation to it all!” Cried he with a despairing flourish. “Elizabeth, come hither!” Continued he.

Elizabeth entered the room presently, and it was not long before she had full appreciation of the situation.

“Elizabeth, we must at all costs prevent this glass bell from breaking, lest the influenza should spread and cause us all to fall perilously ill!” Said Woodville with an intensity he reserved for such occasions.

To my astonishment Elizabeth turned away from the weapon, and the not inconsiderable danger it posed, and began searching through the bureau once more.

“Elizabeth, what in the name of all things of a French hemline are you doing?” I enquired.

She did not respond until, gathering her skirts about her, she made all haste back to my side holding what appeared to be a delicate drawing in her hand.

“I have found the design for the weapon. Pray, Maria, regard if you will the elegant hand in which they have been drawn.” Said she.

“Indeed, they have been executed with a great deal of skill,” Was my eager response, “confess I am quite enraptured!”

“Ladies, cease your admiration!” Interrupted Woodville in tones of vexation. “Pray, defer your raptures until after we have prevented our imminent death.”

“Very well. Maria, have you still your dagger about your person?” I answered her enquiry in the affirmative and Elizabeth began issuing orders to me. “Maria, it would appear that you must first sever the connection betwixt the hourglass and the bell by removing that small brass part thither.”

I took up my blade and began displacing the piece in question. My hands were all of a tremble as I did so. It was not long before I had succeeded, however to my astonished horror it appeared to be to no avail.

“Elizabeth it has had little or no effect, the sand will not desist .” My voice was now full of feminine hysteria.

“Nay, I was mistaken.” Elizabeth replied.

“Mistaken?” Cried Woodville in horror.

“Indeed, despite my many accomplishments it is not within my power to be correct all of the time! Now pray, give me but a moment”

“I do not believe Maria has a moment.” Henry was all fearful intensity.

I was falling pray to female frailty and was certain I should faint by and by.

“Woodville, might I prevail upon you to bring me my smelling salts? Else I shall be overwhelmed by the hysterics once more.” Was my entreaty to my husband.

It was not above seven and twenty seconds before I had both smelling salts and Elizabeth’s assurances that the second bronze piece would render the weapon quite harmless. I obeyed with an elegant and dexterous movement of my dagger and looked on as, with the decided suddenness of an heiress spurning unwanted affections, the sand ceased to run through the glass.

Woodville did not allow himself the indulgence of celebration, instead with a graceful quickstep he rounded upon Mr. Peterson, who sat still bound to the chair.

“You, Peterson, If you do not show an obliging eagerness to share with me all you know about this plot I shall take you forthwith into your study, open that glass bell and mop your unlucky brow with tat kerchief! Do you comprehend?” My husband spoke with threatening authority.

Taking in the resolution not to part with any such information that was etched across Peterson’s visage (which was subject to the double misfortunes of a gouty complexion and a nose that would be better suited to a bird of prey) Woodville Cast away any illusion of calm. Seizing the unhappy fellow by the lapels of his excellently cut coat he began to haul him toward the study.

“Elizabeth, Maria, avert your eyes, I have no desire to expose you to such malicious caprice.” Said Woodville as he drew ever closer to the glass bell. “Hear this, you son of a churl,” Continued he “I am in no humour to be trifled with!”

Just as Woodville looked set to lift the bell Peterson’s resolve vanished as fast as the reputation of a coquettish debutante who reveals herself to be a determined flirt!

“Nay! Nay! Cease! I shall tell what you wish to know!” cried he whence his complexion had turned a most intolerable hue. “There is another weapon! Another weapon which is above five and thirty times the size of this one, it has already been placed aloft in the Abbey of Westminster and shall be deployed just as the marriage vows are being said! It will be heavily guarded and there is nought you can do to stop it.” declared the villainous fiend with a grimace that revealed his surprisingly good teeth. Woodville threw Peterson to the ground with a cry of vexation.

“The Abbey is not far from here, if we take our leave this instant we should find ourselves with a most advantageous abundance of time.” Said Woodville as he advanced toward the door.

I did not much enjoy the task of dashing my husband’s hopes however the ability to see the error in his scheme rendered it necessary.

“Nay, my dear, this would be beyond possible. Do not you recall that members of parliament are behind this plot, there is not a single soul we can take into our confidence. Thus there in no chance that we would be permitted in the Abbey prior to the wedding, for who would believe such a tale. We would unquestionably raise suspicion.” I concluded.

“Damnation! We must wait to attend the abbey under the pretence of being guests.” Said Woodville in a tone that indicated frustration and perhaps fatigue.

As the wedding did not commence for above a dozen hours we found the only agreeable alternative was to adjourn to Peterson’s well appointed drawing room where tea had been laid. At the close of the meal we prevailed upon Elizabeth to play the piano forte for us, she truly plays with remarkable feeling for one so fair, while Woodville and I engaged in a trilling game of cards, yet despite the abundant number of diversions within our power we found ourselves ill disposed to distraction. For somewhere above the Abbey sat the Influenza weapon, which could destroy the monarchy more efficaciously than any scandalous rumours! …

To be continued.