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The Flight of Lady Susan

Jane Austen's scheming villainess Lady Susan is more than a seductive gold digger. Her daughter, Miss Frederica Vernon, is caught up in the sorceress's schemes.

By Deanna CassidyPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 17 min read
1
Morfydd Clark as Frederica Vernon in Love and Friendship (2016)

“You cannot possibly force me into this marriage,” Frederica Vernon quietly told her sorcerous mother. “You have no leverage over me.”

Lady Susan smiled. “I have a family of hostages, my dear! Are you not fond of your uncle? Would you not weep if he were to be poisoned?” The sorceress rose to her feet. “Think on it.”

(Catch up on Part 1: In the Clutches of Lady Susan, and Part 2: Wards Against the Witch)

The sorceress left the drawing room. Frederica stared at her embroidery for a moment, wondering if the jasmine flowers she worked were really enough to wars off her mother's malicious magic. She hastily packed her work into her sewing basket and dropped it on a table.

She grabbed her shawl from her room and went out into the garden. The spell binding her to Lady Susan's proximity allowed her to walk in the frigid air because she did not have the intention to flee. She wandered the garden path for half an hour, attempting to sort her thoughts in order. She revisited every memory she could of her father, and the tales he told of queer rites he witnessed in India; of her mother, who had doted on her before her branding and scorned her since; and of her Aunt Johnson, whose service to the sorceress had always been for the sake of a sister she did not know to be dead.

“Good afternoon, Miss Vernon.”

The sound of her name shook Frederica out of her reverie. All at once, she realized she had been sitting on a cold granite bench under a tree.

Mr De Courcy approached, quite politely. It occurred to Frederica that despite her mother’s best efforts, Mr De Courcy was only in the early stages of being enthralled. He had not quite crossed the line into being in love with the sorceress.

“Good afternoon, Mr De Courcy,” Frederica said.

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he replied. “I simply came to walk the grounds a bit and... ponder.”

“As did I.”

“If you should want an escort, I would very gladly stay with you, or give you my arm back to the house.”

Frederica declined. Mr De Courcy excused himself and began to continue walking. Suddenly, Frederica remembered the exact wording of the knot spell binding her to her mother. It forbade her from speaking ill of Lady Susan to any of Uncle Vernon's household..

Mr Vernon’s brother-in-law was not a member of his household.

“Mr De Courcy?”

“Yes?”

“My mother disposed of Mrs Vernon’s jasmine, and will not willingly allow more in her presence. Tea, perfume, the live plant, even the image of the flower—I do not understand the mechanics of how, but something about jasmine disrupts her dark workings.”

Mr De Courcy stared, wordless.

“Lady Susan was never really Susan,” Frederica said. “She is a sorceress.”

Mr De Courcy blinked a few times. “Miss Vernon, you are shivering. You have lingered too long in the cold. Please, let us return indoors.” He offered his arm.

Frederica took it and allowed him to gently steer her towards the house. Of course he did not believe her. The tale was too absurd.

“Sir James Martin will arrive soon. Tomorrow, I suspect,” she said. “Lady Susan summoned him. She bid me marry him, and will poison my Uncle Vernon if I refuse.”

“But that is an incredible claim to make,” Mr De Courcy said, dropping her arm and turning towards her. “Miss Vernon, remember we are Christians in a civilized country!”

“We are,” Frederica told him. “You and I are. Lady Susan’s witchcraft prevents me from speaking of it to my uncle or his household. I apologize in the strongest terms for confiding in you, but I must beg your assistance. I do not know what I can do, but to submit to her commands.”

Mr De Courcy’s countenance clearly showed concern, and perhaps a touch of fear. He spoke again of the cold air, and then of the exertion of walking out of doors. He pressed Frederica to accompany him inside.

Quickly, before there could be any confusion or objection, she dropped her shawl and pulled up her left sleeve, revealing the jasmine blossom brand. “My father did this, long ago, to protect me from the darkest of my mother’s spells.”

She allowed him a long, silent look at her scar. Then she readjusted her sleeve and shawl, showing him the golden necklace with the jasmine pendant.

“It is a fantastical tale, Mr De Courcy. Any rational creature would question it. But you need only—” Frederica’s mouth continued to move, but her voice vanished suddenly.

Mr De Courcy’s expression flattened and his eyes grew dull. He no longer saw Frederica. Uncanny silence engulfed the garden. Frederica tried shouting Mr De Courcy’s name, but he did not respond. After what felt hours, but perhaps only constituted a moment, the oppressive silence vanished and he blinked.

“I must go write a letter of business,” he said distractedly. “Are you going inside, Miss Vernon?” He offered his arm again.

“I am,” she said dully. “Thank you.” She allowed him to lead her back inside.

Mr De Courcy excused himself, and Frederica stepped listlessly into the drawing room, where her sewing basket and all its contents burned in the fire, stoked by Betsy. Frederica and the maid regarded each other silently for a moment.

“What did she offer you?” Frederica asked.

“William Atwood,” Betsy answered. “The farrier.”

Frederica simply nodded. Then she retreated to her room, shut the door behind her, and wept.

×××

Frederica begged illness all evening, and stuck to her room. In the morning, Betsy came again to ask if Frederica cared to join Mrs Vernon for a ride. Frederica declined, desiring nothing more than solitude.

She stayed abed, waiting for the immense weight of her fate to fall upon her, almost wishing it would crush her when it came.

At about eight o’clock, she noticed a great deal of noise from downstairs. Young Charles Vernon shouted about a barouche with six horses; the servants scurried to prepare a larger breakfast with an extra place setting at the table; and the sorceress’s false, tinkling laugh echoed up the stairs.

Finally, Frederica rose and dressed, styling her hair mechanically. She sat at her table, staring blankly out at the garden.

Her mother entered the room with neither invitation nor excuse. “Good, you’re dressed,” the sorceress said. “Here, use this perfume.” The sorceress anointed Frederica with the scent, then cupped her face in cold hands and studied her aspect from different angles. “Shame you look so like your father,” she said. “Those features were more handsome on a man. Still, you are a comely girl. Sir James will not be disappointed.”

The sorceress took Frederica’s arm and led her down to the drawing room, where Mr Vernon and Mr De Courcy stood by the window with the fashionably dressed and weak-chinned Sir James Martin.

“De Courcy here is the best shot in all England,” Mr Vernon said. “Always gets the most birds. Still, I dare say we’ll have our chance at one or two.”

“Capital!” Sir James exclaimed. “I’ve never had much success at shooting, but I own the most beautiful rifle. The pattern on its handle matches my snuffbox.”

“Oh, Sir James,” the sorceress said with a playful laugh, “do take care, or we shall quiz you for a coxcomb!” The gentlemen turned round at the sound of her voice, and all three smiled warmly at the sorceress.

“Ah,” Sir James said, “Lady Susan, you’ve found her.” He shook Frederica’s hand affectionately. “A fine morning to you, Miss Vernon. It is all the more fine for me, now that you are in it.”

“Good morning,” was all Frederica could manage to say. She stole a glance at Mr De Courcy, but his eyes were fixed on the sorceress.

“I’ve had the extreme pleasure of meeting your family. Our family, as it will be. I’ve taken the very great liberty of coming to stay for a few days.”

Frederica could not begin to voice her indignation. To arrive without formal invitation, without even a prior acquaintance with the Vernons, was a great impertinence—but Sir James had actually come to stay.

He sat between Frederica and her mother at breakfast. Afterwards, Frederica was obliged to walk the garden paths on his right arm, with the sorceress walking on his left.

By midday, the sorceress had prompted Sir James to give Frederica a thorough accounting of his house and grounds in the country, along with the names of all his notable neighbors; his house in London, down to its number of windows; and the houses he had let in Bath, Brighton, and Dover. Frederica did not have a single moment of solitude until it was time to dress for dinner.

She dressed quickly, and had begun to style her hair when she heard the knock on her door. Four-year-old Catherine asked her to come to Mrs Vernon’s dressing room. Frederica followed her little cousin. Tension clenched her shoulders and chest; with every step, she hoped that neither her mother nor one of the sorceress’s lackeys would see her.

In Mrs Vernon’s dressing room, Catherine led Frederica over to the table where Mrs Vernon sat with a letter.

With no ado whatsoever, Mrs Vernon explained: “Yesterday afternoon, in one baffling and dramatic moment, the flowers you had worked into our handkerchiefs fell to pieces. Loose thread likewise slipped down from Lucy’s dress, and small piles of loose thread could be found on a variety of garments as well. Then, my brother came to me with a most outlandish tale.”

“Is it true?” Catherine interjected. “Is Aunt Susan a witch?”

Frederica’s lips pressed together of their own accord.

“As a matter of fact,” Mrs Vernon continued, “I had heard such a tale before, a dozen years ago. My brother was off at school, and my father had one of his dinners with captains and admirals and promising commanders on the rise.

"Commander William Price—he is a captain now, of course—he had just come back from the East Indies. He told us of a village where every girl and woman was tattooed, head to foot, with the images of jasmine flowers. Each villager wore jasmine in their hair, and it grew beside every building. It seems these blossoms have some sort of protective effect against the workings of demons who had once plagued the village.”

Frederica gasped. “Did the demons push the souls out of beautiful young women and take over their bodies?”

“Yes,” Mrs Vernon said.

“Is Aunt Susan a demon?” Catherine asked with wide eyes.

Magic rendered Frederica incapable of speaking ill of her mother. However, she was at perfect liberty to reveal the jasmine blossom branded on her shoulder.

Catherine clung to her mother’s arm. “I don’t want to be pushed out of my body!”

“How did the village rid themselves of the demons?” Frederica asked.

“I was hoping you knew,” Mrs Vernon said. “This afternoon, my brother received this letter from his steward in London. It confirms that his order for jasmine tea had been misplaced. The local hothouse also informs me there are no jasmine blossoms to be had.”

“And we have seen that any talismans I stitch can be undone with dark arts,” Frederica said. She touched her brand, and then her necklace, considering. She looked at her aunt. “We need salt.”

×××

At dinner, Frederica sat between the blustering Sir James and the flirting sorceress. Sir James relayed the tale of how “Lady Susan” had performed him the service of the truest friend by disentangling him from the selfish, scheming sister of Mr Manwaring. Mr De Courcy and Mr Vernon applauded the sorceress’s good deed. Mrs Vernon and Frederica shared a glance and kept their silence.

After dinner, as usual, the ladies retired to the drawing room as the gentlemen stayed at table.

“There is barely any light in here,” the sorceress complained, squinting. She took up her usual post at the pianoforte. “I cannot see the keys.”

“I’ll build up the fire, Mamma,” Frederica said. She could not have asked for a better opportunity.

The sorceress began playing her music. Mrs Vernon sat on the sofa with her carpetwork at hand, watching Frederica purposefully starve the flame. Frederica tucked the pendant of her necklace into the nearest coals, leaving the chain within reach.

“Is this better, Mamma?” Frederica asked.

“Not at all,” the sorceress told her, remaining at the pianoforte.

“I cannot see my carpet work,” Mrs Vernon agreed, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t build the fire any better, myself. We’ll have to wait for the gentlemen, then.”

“Just call Betsy in,” the sorceress said.

“Betsy is no longer employed here,” Mrs Vernon said tranquilly, “And Mrs Underhill is busy in the kitchen.”

“I wonder how long they will stay in there,” Frederica said, glancing towards the door.

The music stopped. Without a word, the sorceress rose and came to the fireplace herself, reaching for the poker.

Frederica swiftly grabbed the cast iron fire tools and threw them across the room as Mrs Vernon poured salt on the carpet, finishing the circle that they had previously started.

“You wretch!” the sorceress screamed, banging her fists against the invisible wall that now sealed her in with her daughter.

Frederica swiftly wrapped her hand in her handkerchief for what little protection it would offer. As the sorceress screamed invectives at Mrs Vernon, Frederica pulled her necklace out of the coals. The jasmine pendant shined in the firelight, burning her fingers. She pressed it hard against the nearest bit of the sorceress’s visible bare skin—between the back of the gown and the nape of the neck.

The sorceress shrieked and crumpled to the floor. Mrs Vernon gaped.

Frederica pushed her sobbing mother onto her right side, rummaging through her left pocket. It was empty.

The sorceress screamed with pain again as Frederica pulled her onto her left side and plunged a hand into her right pocket. The gentlemen rushed into the room to see Frederica bent over the wailing woman, pulling a knotted ribbon from her pocket.

Frederica tossed the knot-oath ribbon into the coals. She could feel the weight of its magic lifting off her chest.

Strong hands pinned her arms to her sides: Mr De Courcy grappled her. Between Frederica’s struggles and the efforts of Sir James and Mr Vernon to assist the sorceress, the salt circle had scattered enough to release its hostages.

Frederica was vaguely aware of the din around her. The men shouted questions and orders. The sorceress sobbed. Mrs Vernon chided Miss Becker for allowing the curious children to look in. Servants were sent to fetch the doctor and law enforcement.

Someone brought a bowl of cool fresh water and soft clean cloths, and Mrs Vernon dispassionately tended to the sorceress’s injury. Someone else retrieved the fire tools and built up the fire again. This left all three men free to pin Frederica to a chair and demand answers.

She looked at Mr Vernon. “Lady Susan was not content to infect my father with her lethal disease and inherit all his remaining property. She threatened your life, Uncle, and the life of at least one daughter. Probably Lucy.”

“Frederica, Frederica,” the sorceress wept. “You don’t know how you’ve wronged me!”

“You think she is mad?” Sir James asked Lady Susan.

“My daughter,” the sorceress said. “You were supposed to be my companion. You were supposed to be my partner. My friend.”

“I could not be your partner,” Frederica said. “And I would not be your minion.”

The sorceress stared mournfully at the fire.

“It’s true, then?” Mr De Courcy asked, looking from Frederica to the sorceress and back again. “Your wild tale of dark magic. It is real?”

Frederica nodded.

“You are all mad,” Sir James said. He rang for a servant and ordered his carriage be prepared.

“Mamma, what happened to Susan?” Frederica asked.

“I placed her in Nanette’s body, and then poisoned her,” the sorceress replied.

“And Nanette?”

“I placed her in Charlotte’s body. She was beheaded.”

“And Charlotte?”

“You can’t expect me to remember every empty-headed pretty thing I’ve taken!” the sorceress snapped.

“What’s your real name?” Frederica asked.

“A name is just what people call you.” The sorceress pouted. She stared again at the fire.

“This is unbelievable,” Mr Vernon said.

“Where is my carriage?” Sir James demanded impatiently.

The sorceress gasped, then grinned at Frederica. Her teeth glinted sharply in the firelight. “My dear, sweet girl,” she said. “Why did I not think of this before? It is not too late for me, nor for you!”

The sorceress shut her eyes. When she opened them, they glowed with uncanny orange flame.

Oppressive silence flooded the room. Mr De Courcy and Sir James, already victims of the sorceress’s spellwork, froze in their tracks. Their eyes glazed over. Mr and Mrs Vernon watched helplessly as the sorceress gestured at the fire.

One coal floated upwards, then shot at Frederica’s shoulder, searing the jasmine brand off her skin. She screamed in pain but made no noise. Another coal flew to the sorceress’s back and burned off the mark Frederica had made.

The stray coals fell to the carpet, burning but forgotten. The sorceress grabbed Sir James by the ears and looked him in the eyes. Somehow, everything changed.

Sound returned to the drawing room. Lady Susan fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain, babbling with confusion. Mr Vernon dropped to his knees and attempted to calm her. Mr De Courcy tenderly took Frederica’s hand, raising her arm and looking at her burn.

Sir James turned to Frederica. “Take him!” he said. “Make the exchange with De Courcy. We’ll get away faster as gentlemen!”

“It’s her!” Frederica said, pointing at Sir James. “Stop her! Grab him, he’s her!”

“Take him!” Sir James insisted. “We must leave immediately!”

Frederica stood beside Mr De Courcy and tugged his sleeve. She continued pointing at Sir James. “That’s the sorceress. We’ve got to put Sir James back in his body!”

Sir James shook his head. “This is your last chance, Frederica. Take De Courcy and let us get out of here.”

“You are not going anywhere!” Mrs Vernon roared. She stood between Sir James and the door, wielding the fire poker with a fencer’s competence. “Set Sir James to rights!”

Sir James gave Frederica one last, sad look. “I will miss you, Daughter,” he said. He stepped towards the door. Mrs Vernon thrust with the fire poker, striking Sir James’s shoulder.

“Catherine!” De Courcy exclaimed.

Sir James winced, grabbed the poker, threw it across the room, and struck Mrs Vernon hard in the stomach. She crumpled to the floor, coughing. Sir James darted out the door.

As one, Frederica and De Courcy sprinted in pursuit. There was no hope of catching Sir James before he climbed into the driver’s box of his barouche and whipped his team of six horses into a full gallop.

De Courcy shouted for his gig, his hounds and his hunting gear. Then he turned to Frederica.

“Please, see to my sister and let her know I am giving chase!”

“I am giving chase!” Frederica insisted. “I know that creature better than anyone.”

“Can you drive? Can you shoot?” Frederica did not immediately answer. “It must be me,” De Courcy argued.

“Then you may come,” Frederica said, “but no one stands a chance against my mother without me.”

They looked at each other for one fierce moment. A servant brought out De Courcy’s hunting gear. “Bring linseed oil,” De Courcy instructed. “Quickly!” As the servant ran to obey, De Courcy explained, “You will need it when you bandage that burn.”

His gig came around. He secured his hunting gear aboard as Frederica accepted the bottle of linseed oil and soft clean cloths from the servant.

“Ready, Miss Vernon?”

“Ready.”

De Courcy helped Frederica into the seat and took his place beside her. They began the hunt.

Fantasy
1

About the Creator

Deanna Cassidy

(she/her) This establishment is open to wanderers, witches, harpies, heroes, merfolk, muses, barbarians, bards, gargoyles, gods, aces, and adventurers. TERFs go home.

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