Miss Jacobson's Journey (17 page)

As she gazed out unseeing at the wide, blue river and the vineyard-covered hills beyond, an idea came to her. A plan began to form.

“Can Felix drive in the dark?” she asked Isaac. He looked surprised. “I mean, we have always stopped at dusk, but I don’t know if that was because we happened to reach a good place to stay, or because you were both tired? The diligence continues day and night.”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask him.” He turned his head and reached up to open the shutter. Catching herself admiring his long-fingered, elegant hand and wide-browed profile, she hastily glanced away. “Felix, Miriam wants to know whether you can drive the carriage in the dark.”

A snort answered him. “Of course I can drive in the dark.”

“Along country lanes?” asked Miriam.

“Along country lanes?” Isaac transmitted.

There was a pause redolent of caution. “Narrow country lanes? With ditches?”

“Narrow, yes,” said Miriam. “Ditches, I cannot be sure.”

“Narrow and winding with deep ditches,” Isaac informed him, grinning. “And hills, and streams to ford.”

“If we can get hold of good lanterns, and you aren’t planning to break any speed records, then yes.”

“Then if you are rested, Isaac, I think you had better take the reins as far as Langon. Felix will be driving half the night.”

“He will?”

“Unless you feel able to drive in the dark?”

“Not me!” He shuddered.

“As I guessed. Just a minute.” Miriam gently disengaged the strings of Hannah’s reticule from the maid’s wrist and delved into it. Taking out a handful of small brown glass vials, she read the labels then held one up to the light. “Good, there’s plenty left. Tell Felix to stop and I’ll explain.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Felix, Miriam wants us to change places.”

 “Far be it from a lowly coachman to question madam’s orders,” came Felix’s response and the berline drew to a halt at the side of the road.

The cessation of swaying and jolting woke Hannah. As Isaac opened the door, Miriam said to her, “Can you pretend to have the headache? Or I shall and you must support me.”

Hannah blinked at her. “The headache? But I feel very well, thank God. All I needed was forty winks.”

“Pretend! Our follower must suppose that you are travel sick, to give us a reason for stopping.”

“Sick of travelling I am, right enough,” she grumbled.

“Come, let me help you to step down.”

With Isaac lending a solicitous hand, Hannah descended to the dusty road. She stood hunched, holding her head and her stomach and groaning artistically. Felix had climbed down from the box. Holding the reins, he looked back along the highway.

“You can cut out the wailing and gnashing of teeth,” he announced. “Our man has stopped a good furlong back. That proves he’s after us, though. Is someone going to tell me what is going on?”

Hannah stopped groaning but kept her hand to her head. Miriam put an arm around her waist and walked her slowly towards Felix, with Isaac following. “Has either of you a proposal for losing that fellow?” she asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“Hit him on the head and run,” suggested Felix.

“May God spare us!” Hannah moaned.

“I have a notion how we may contrive.” Strolling up and down supporting Hannah, she outlined her plan.

“I’d rather hit him on the head,” Felix complained. “Must you use my brandy? I wish I spoke better French.”

“So do I.” Isaac was doubtful. “I daresay I can manage it, but I’d rather not. On the other hand, I cannot possibly do the driving.”

“If we do it at all,” said Miriam impatiently, “there is no choice about who does what. The only question is, have you come up with a stratagem more likely to succeed?”

“No.”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we have until later this evening to decide. But I do think Isaac had best drive now, in case.”

Passing the reins to Isaac, Felix handed the women into the carriage and joined them.

“Put your feet up, my lord, and try to sleep,” Hannah advised in the motherly voice she used when she called Miriam “child”. A few days more, Miriam was ready to wager, and she would be addressing his lordship as “lad”
.

Felix smiled at the abigail. “Yes, ma’am, if Miriam will excuse me?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t help contrasting his response with his haughty disapproval the first time Hannah had joined them at the dinner table. Now that he had come down off his high horse, he really was as charming as she had told Suzanne.

He turned sideways, leaning back against the squabs, and raised his legs onto the seat. The movement brought his battered boots into his sight. “Desecration!” he lamented.

“Better your boots than your skin,” Miriam pointed out with a chuckle.

“Certainly not. Under your knowledgeable care my skin would heal. Even my valet and the best champagne blacking could not render my boots presentable, alas.”

“Champagne! You are bamming me.”

“Not I. Oh, I gave it up some years since, but Beau Brummell claims to use champagne in his blacking and I once was one of the many aspiring young dandies who ape him. I believe he made it up, along with the story that it takes three men to make his gloves.”

Miriam laughed. “How absurd! Why should anyone want to copy him?”

“For the most part it’s all to the good. He made elegant simplicity fashionable, and clean linen, at which one can hardly quibble. He’s a good fellow, though he does give himself airs. I’d hate to be the butt of one of his witty remarks.”

“I’ve heard of him. Is he the gentleman who spends an entire morning tying his cravat?”

“If it takes an entire morning to perfect it. He believes that like a butterfly a gentleman should emerge perfect from the cocoon and then give no more thought to his appearance. You never see the Beau primping before a mirror in public.”

  “That an odd mixture of sense and nonsense.” As a schoolgirl she had yearned to be a part of that Polite World in which Felix never doubted his place. He made it sound attractive and amusing, whetting her appetite.

“All nonsense I call it,” snorted Hannah. “If you have any sense, my lord, you’ll stop worrying about your boots and try to sleep.”

Felix grinned and obediently closed his eyes. Careful not to dirty the cushions, he had left his booted feet, white with road dust, sticking out over the edge of the seat. Miriam thought he’d be much more comfortable if he took the boots off altogether, but somehow it was impossible to suggest such a thing. Boots first, then coat, then neckcloth...

Hastily she tore her gaze from his powerful body, emanating masculine vigour even in repose. Outside, a grey mist was rising from the river, blotting out the far bank and hiding the westering sun. Miriam shivered.

On the box, Isaac shivered. Even so far south, the spring evenings were chilly and he had packed away his greatcoat. One more foolish mistake.

Why had he admitted his uncertainty over his ability to play his rôle in Miriam’s plan? Given a decent command of French, Felix would have done the deed without blinking. Felix was competent and sure of himself, torn by no doubts as to the rightness of his actions. In normal circumstances Isaac considered himself competent, but he couldn’t pretend he was cut out to be a hero--and a hero was what he wanted to appear in Miriam’s eyes.

She made him think of Miriam the sister of Moses, in the Book of the Exodus--Miriam whose ingenuity had saved her baby brother; who had led the women in celebrating the escape from Egypt; who had supported Moses throughout the wandering in the wilderness, yet had not hesitated to reproach him when she disapproved of his actions.

Isaac smiled to himself. Yes, his Miriam was well named--if only she was his Miriam and not Felix’s. His smile faded.

It didn’t help that he had heard her laughing just now. The sound still rang in his ears. And before him floated a vision of her gazing up into Felix’s face, clasped, however briefly, in his arms.

He was not going to find it easy to continue to treat Felix with complaisance.

The mist from the Garonne was blowing across the road by the time he drove into the village of Langon. If it grew any thicker it would hinder their pursuer, but it would also make Felix’s task more difficult. Unfortunately, Isaac was denied the consolation of wishing his rival to fail.

He looked back over his shoulder. The rider was closer now and Isaac was almost certain he was Hébert. That would make his job easier, he hoped. At least he had some idea of what to expect from the lieutenant.

The inn he stopped at, though large, looked as if it had seen more prosperous days. Whitewash flaked from the walls and the faded sign was indecipherable. Doubtless Bordeaux’s loss of trade had reduced traffic from the interior. Isaac drew up before the door.

At once an obsequious couple rushed out, bowing and curtsying and begging the travellers to step in. Felix emerged from the carriage, his hand raised to cover a yawn. He helped Miriam and Hannah down. A couple of servants appeared and the landlord began to direct them to carry in the luggage.

“We do not need everything,” Miriam said, “but if we leave it with the carriage will it be safe? Is there an ostler on duty all night to watch for thieves?”

“But assuredly, madame. Always there are two men alert to provide horses for the diligence. Your bags will be perfectly safe.”

“Good. We shall need three chambers and a private parlour.”

“At once, madame,” said the landlord’s wife. “If madame will be so good as to step this way, out of the cold.”

Miriam disappeared into the inn. Hannah showed the servants which bags were needed, and Felix strolled forward to look up at Isaac.

“Our man is still there?” he asked softly in French.

“He was a moment ago.” Isaac glanced back. “I expect he’ll wait until we have gone in before he comes any closer.”

Felix nodded. “I hope this...” not knowing the word he waved his hand at the mist, “...goes away soon.”

“It is probably clearer away from the river. Are you rested?”

“I slept a little, but Hannah insists that I must go to bed right after dinner. She treats me just as my old nurse does.”

Isaac grinned at his indignant tone. There was something innately likeable about the dashing young gentleman allowing his old nurse to bully him.

Hannah went into the inn with the servants carrying bags and boxes. Felix followed them, and Isaac drove the berline to the end of the extensive stable yard farthest from the building.

A few minutes later he stepped into the warmth of the inn. Lingering by the doorway, he watched as a rider wrapped in a greatcoat rode into the yard and dismounted. By the light of a lantern now lit against the dusk, he caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

Hébert.

  Chapter 16

 Isaac was hungry enough to eat a horse. Nonetheless he recoiled when the waiter started removing covers from the dishes, releasing a veritable miasma of garlic. He had thought himself inured to the all-pervasive odour, and he had come to tolerate, almost to enjoy, the unavoidable flavour, but this was overwhelming.

Felix turned greenish and even Miriam wrinkled her nose.

The food looked delicious: a tureen of thick soup, some roast fowl, a couple of ragoûts, a variety of vegetables, and crusty golden loaves.

“Which dish is it that contains garlic?” Miriam asked the waiter.

He stared at her in surprise. “But everything, mam’selle. How is it possible to cook without garlic?”

“The soup is the strongest,” said Hannah. The steam from the earthenware tureen before her wafted straight towards her quivering nostrils.

“Pray remove the soup,” Miriam requested.

The waiter shrugged his shoulders and obeyed. There might have been a slight diminution of the smell as the door closed behind him, but Isaac wouldn’t have taken his oath on it. He started to carve a duck and discovered that it was stuffed with whole cloves of garlic.

Naturally the meat of the bird was impregnated with the stuff. He and Miriam and Hannah managed to eat a reasonable meal, but Felix, though he bravely tasted several dishes, ended up with bread. He swore that it, too, tasted of garlic, as did the wine.

So did the cheese, when the second course arrived, and Miriam pushed away a sugar-glazed pastry after one bite.

“Even that,” she said with a shudder. “I don’t dare try the coffee.”

“Nor I,” Isaac agreed. “That settles it, Felix, we shall have to use your cognac. Garlic-flavoured brandy doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Felix sighed. “Come up to my chamber and I shall give you the flask.”

“I’d best make sure Hébert is actually in the coffee room or the tap room,” Isaac said. “If he has retired already we’ll have to change our plan.”

He and Felix went together to peer through the open doors of the powerfully garlicky coffee room--no sign of their quarry--and then the tap room, which smelled more of alcohol and tobacco. The lieutenant slouched on a settle in a corner, a nearly empty wine bottle on the table before him.

“It looks as if your job is half done,” said Felix, grinning, as they turned away.

“He doesn’t look as if he’s happy with his job. Poor chap, I’d hate to have to face Grignol and tell him I had failed.”

“Don’t feel too sorry for him. His failure is what we’re hoping for, remember.”

“I’m not likely to forget. We’d best pay the reckoning now. I shall tell them we want to leave early.”

“Good idea. If we don’t have to find someone to pay later, we might be able to slip away without rousing anyone but the ostler.”

Isaac settled with the landlord, rejecting his offer to send someone to wake them at first light. “I have an alarum-watch,” he explained.

The landlord nodded wisely. “Of course, Swiss watches are famous. In case you depart before I myself am about, I wish you bon voyage, messieurs.”

“Well done,” said Felix in a low voice as the innkeeper hurried off about his business. “With luck he will never realize that we left at midnight rather than five in the morning.”

Returning to the private parlour, they found that Miriam and Hannah had left, presumably retired to their shared chamber. Isaac couldn’t blame them, for though the table had been cleared the aroma lingered.