A Shadow's Bliss (17 page)

“Oliver Crane will!” said Holsworth. “Best give it up, lad.”

Jonathan refused to be defeated, however, and as it turned out, the transfer was easier than they had anticipated. When they reached the castle, Holsworth stopped the cart behind the stables, where grooms were already busily at work. A light travelling coach had been pulled out and stood in the yard. There was no sign of Oliver Crane. Jonathan slipped out of the donkey cart, ran along the far side of the coach, and succeeded in depositing Duster under the box seat without being seen. He waved triumphantly to Holsworth, and the big man grinned and flourished his hook.

Watching Jonathan cross the yard accompanied by an immediate chorus of taunts from the grooms, Holsworth's smile faded. He muttered, “D'ye notice that he's not quite so timid o'late, Marmaduke? Giddap, now!” He turned the cart and started the donkey back down the hill. “I'd begun to have hopes for him,” he went on regretfully. “But 'tis clear to see that he's in a sorry state. What with vanishing ladies, and men he can't see, and marks in the sands … to say nought of hundreds o' furriners chasing him about the moors at night.” He shook his head. “Poor fellow. Fate has dealt him a bitter hand, Marmaduke. A bitter hand.”

An hour later, the object of these mournful thoughts viewed Fate in a very different light. Thanks to the housekeeper, the livery now fit him quite well, and to be clad in decent garments again was a delight. Duster's cage was under the seat, partially concealed by the small bundle of his own belongings, and Oliver Crane had been unable to find fault with his handling of the four spirited bays when he'd driven around to the front of the castle.

Crane had followed the coach, and now sauntered over to remark dourly that he wondered the master had not required his “fine new coachman” to powder his hair, since he would be mixing with the hoity-toity Morris servants.

Coming up in time to hear this remark, Jennifer said, “I am sure Lord Morris knows we do not aspire to the standards set at Breton Ridge, Crane.” Her warm smile rested on the disconcerted head groom for an instant, then she turned her attention to the box. The sight of Jonathan with a snowy jabot at his throat and a well-cut dark blue coat hugging his broad shoulders caused her eyes to widen, and for several seconds she could not command her voice.

Jonathan looked down on a radiant vision clad in a pearl grey travelling gown, with scarlet ribands threading through the wide low collar and repeated in the lacy ruffle of her cap. And for him, all else faded into a hazy insignificance.

Aware in a befuddled way that Crane was looking at her curiously, Jennifer pulled her wits together and said in a rush of words, “What a glorious day. Please do not travel at a great rate, Jack. I want to—”

Lord Green, dressed for riding, stamped to join them and put in rudely, “What's this? Crane, are you gone quite daft? I'll not have Miss Britewell entrusted to the care of that halfwit!”

“Weren't my doing, milord,” said Crane. “If I'd had my way—”

“Yes, but I think my father did not ask your advice, Crane. And 'tis not our business to question Sir Vinson's orders,” said Jennifer coolly.

“'Tis very much my business,” blustered his lordship. “Britewell! I say, Britewell!” He flourished his riding crop at Sir Vinson, who was walking over to say his farewells to Jennifer. “I think you must rectify this bumblebroth, Britewell,” said Green loudly. “Some clod has been so dense as to put that looney on the box!”

Amused, Jennifer thought that my lord could scarcely have chosen words more calculated to make her father dig in his heels.

Sir Vinson's pleasant smile vanished. He said coldly, “You may be assured, sir, that I would most certainly not entrust my daughter's safety to anyone I felt unreliable.”

“Unreliable? Damme, the fellow's got maggots in his loft! I'd not trust him to—”

“It was my understanding, my lord, that you entrusted him with your life.” Noting how his lordship's teeth snapped together at this distasteful reminder, Sir Vinson was pleased with himself, and twisted the knife. “'Tis because Jack was so valiant on that occasion,” he purred, “that I feel he should be rewarded. Especially since he has a splendid way with horses.”

Flushed with chagrin, Lord Green grumbled, “One can but hope you will not regret your—trust. I suppose, so long as you send a guard and outriders—”

Sir Vinson laughed. “Come now, my lord, we are not in your lawless London Town! My name is known and respected throughout the county. Furthermore, my people are quite aware that did a well-born gentleman insult Miss Britewell, he would answer to me. And did any commoner dare to so much as touch her, I would shoot him out of hand without a moment's hesitation. If I neglected to perform my duty, you may rest assured my sons would not! We have no need for guards and outriders here, my lord, so do not fret. My daughter goes in complete safety.”

Green's jaws worked as though he ground his teeth, but he returned his host's faint smile with a nod and said nothing.

Sir Vinson embraced Jennifer and told her she must “have a lovely time.”

“Do you come, sir?” she asked.

“Assuredly. Howland and I expect to be able to arrive well before the ball on Friday. You will give my compliments to Lord and Lady Morris, of course.”

Howland called to him from the front door, and he kissed her, and hurried away.

Jennifer turned to the coach, and murmured, “If I may have your hand, Crane…”

It was Green however, who rushed to hand her into the coach, and Crane drew back, his lips pursed, his eyes darting to Tilly Mays' equally annoyed face.

“How dreary we shall be without your lovely self,” mourned his lordship, retaining Jennifer's hand and following her up one step. “You will miss me too, m'dear. But never grieve, I follow you at the week-end, so you will not be bereft of my company for too long.”

She had hoped to be free from the wretch, and this was unwelcome news. Pulling her hand away, she seated herself on the red velvet cushions and murmured, “Indeed? I'd fancied you too busied with your plans to be able to accept Lord Kenneth's invitation.”

“Were his gracious majesty, King George, coming to consult me, 'twould not keep me from your side a day past Friday, Miss Jennifer. This I promise.”

She stared at him, but he met her cold eyes with an egoism that would not be abashed. ‘He is quite unable to credit that I do not want him,' she thought, and called pointedly, “Pray hurry, Tilly. We must be off.”

His lordship, sighing dejectedly, was obliged to give way, and within seconds Tilly was ensconced opposite her mistress. With a lurch, a clatter of hooves and a creak of leather, the carriage started across the courtyard. Jennifer leaned from the window to flutter her handkerchief to Sir Vinson and Howland, who waved from the top of the front steps.

Lord Green sprang to snatch the scrap of cambric and lace. “Thank you, fairest,” he bellowed. “Though I need no token to keep your beauty fresh in my heart!”

“Oh!” exclaimed Jennifer, jerking back from the window in a rage. “That—that
insufferable…
!”

They were out of the yard then, and rolling along at a steady pace. It was silly to be thinking that his lordship seemed bolder these past few days, as if more sure he had won her. Just as silly to imagine that her father was brooding over some secret trouble. Likely he regretted having given Green permission to lease the mine, that was all. And there was still time to withdraw his permission, for nothing had been done as yet. She shrugged away her misgivings. My lord Green's connivings would
not
spoil this day! Nor the party, if he should come, which heaven forbid! She gave an impatient shrug of her shoulders, and dismissed the odious baron from her mind.

“How fortunate that the fog left us this bright sunshine,” she exclaimed. “Only look, Tilly. Is it not beautiful?”

It was indeed beautiful. Renowned as it is for ferocious gales and sudden dense fogs, the northern coast of Cornwall can be a bleak and forbidding place. But when the western wind breathes warm, and sky and sea are matching cerulean bowls, it is a sight to touch the soul. So it was on this bright morning. The waves, ending their long journey from the Americas, foamed like white lace against the offshore rocks, then met the shore with a caress; the sunshine danced on tidal pools and streams; ever on guard, the cliffs strode strong and proud above golden beach, quiet cove, and secluded bay. The air was pure and sweet, and so clear that the ancient and mysterious standing stones that soared on the headland fourteen miles distant seemed but half a mile away.

The glories of Nature did not impress Tilly, however. She was not a good traveller, and remarked in a die-away voice that she only hoped it didn't “come over hot” for she couldn't abide heat and would likely be sick.

“Of course you won't, foolish creature,” scolded Jennifer lightly. “How can you be so dismal? You should be happy to be out driving on such a morning.”

“With a looby on the box,” sniffed Tilly. “I only pray we will arrive safely!”

And so it went. However Jennifer strove to keep her good humour, Tilly remained obstinately miserable. Exasperated when her martyred handmaiden moaned that she knew she was a trial and unwanted, Jennifer said at her most stern, “Your whining is unwanted, certainly. Since you are determined to be a misery you may get out and wait here. Jack can come back for you later, and take you home.”

Horrified, Tilly demanded, “And who would take care of you, and—and dress your hair so pretty as what I do, miss?
That
I would like to know!”

“I am very sure Lady Kenneth's housekeeper will find a woman to serve me with competence. And with none of your complaining.” Jennifer reached for the check string.

Tilly gave a shriek, swore she would utter not another word, and appeared to fall into a coma.

With a furtive smile, Jennifer settled back and admired the scenery while anticipating the coming party and a happy reunion with her friend Caroline. The miles slipped away and her thoughts drifted to Johnny. He was driving very well. There was little of the swaying that really did tend to make Tilly unwell. How charmingly he looked in the livery, and how light-hearted he had seemed, the shy smile in his eyes banishing the hunted look she often glimpsed there.

She found that she was smiling, and slanted a glance at Tilly. The woman was dabbing a handkerchief at her face, which was not surprising, for it had become quite warm. “Why did you not open the window an you were uncomfortable?” said Jennifer, standing to do so.

“I didn't want to disturb you, miss,” sighed Tilly. “You looked like you was having such wonderful happy thoughts.”

Jennifer was obliged to apply her handkerchief to her own cheeks, which had become suddenly heated.

Soon, the breeze died away altogether. Tilly was pale and silent. Watching her uneasily, Jennifer feared the worst, and pulled the check string.

The carriage slowed and stopped, and when Jonathan opened the trap she told him to find a shady spot. “We must rest for a little while. My maid cannot tolerate this heat.”

In very short order the horses were splashing through a shallow stream towards a copse of trees. They were small trees, bowing inevitably to the east, but they offered a welcome shade, and Jonathan drew the team to a halt.

“There,” said Jennifer, patting Tilly's listless hand kindly. “You'll feel better after you have a rest. Can you get up?”

Tilly wailed, and one hand flew to her mouth.

Jennifer supported her to the steps where Jonathan waited to lift her down.

With her cheek against his shoulder, Tilly revived sufficiently to scan their oasis, then shrieked, “Oh—Gawd! Oh,
Gawd!
”

A large and alarmed hare shot under the noses of the team. With ringing neighs, the high-bred animals reared and plunged. In another second, they would bolt, and Jennifer was still in the coach. Jonathan dropped Tilly unceremoniously and sprang for the heads of the leaders. He was barely in time, and was dragged a short way before he was able to pull them to a halt. He secured the reins to one of the trees and rushed to whip open the carriage door, which had swung shut.

Jennifer had been flung back on the seat, and was trying to pull her cap from over her eyes. Her gown was in disarray, revealing a very nicely turned leg, but she was unhurt, and said with a shaken smile, “That was an excitement I did not really need, Johnny Coachman.”

Able to breathe again, his relieved glance took in the pretty limb and rested there appreciatively.

Jennifer's hand whipped her skirts into place, then was extended. He took it, and handed her down the steps feeling his face redden. But when he slanted a look at her, the dimple flickered beside her mouth.

Tilly was on her hands and knees, weeping loudly.

Running to console her, Jennifer said anxiously, “My poor dear. Whatever happened?”

“I knowed it … I
knowed
it!” wailed Tilly. “Evil's come amongst us!” Her accusing and tearful eyes fixed upon Jonathan. “To be throwed down…! Like I was—was so much
dirt!
”

“I am truly sorry, miss,” he said apologetically. “But I had to get to the leaders fast, or there'd have been no stopping them.”

“And I am very glad you did,” said Jennifer, coaxing her abigail to stand. “Had you not screamed so, Tilly, the horses would not have taken fright. Whatever made you behave in such a way?”

The only response was a renewed flood of tears and some disjointed mumblings about being blamed, “as usual!”

Jennifer looked to Jonathan in silent questioning.

He said, “She saw a hare, ma'am.”

Jennifer paled. “Oh, no! Are you quite sure?”

He nodded. “It ran under the team.”

Tilly clung to Jennifer's hand. “We must go b-back, Miss J-Jennifer! We daren't go on! 'Twas how I knowed it would be!” Another scared glance shot at Jonathan. She whispered, “Evil's come … among us!”