The LadyShip (22 page)

Willy dismounted to walk around the coach and survey
the damage. He concluded that they had made pretty good
time, all things considered, and that further, there appeared
to be no ill effects to the coach, which he declared could go
on for miles.

“Unfortunately,” Allingham said, “the horses, being
made of flesh and bone and not leather and wood, cannot
go any farther. I salute your brother’s forethought, Miss
Bennett, in supplying his marvelous coach with cots and a
supply of food, but he has regrettably neglected to also
provide a stable. We shall have to ride to the nearest shel
ter.”

“And where may that be?” Lord Vernon begged to be in
formed. He kicked the snow off his boots and regarded the
dark heavens, from which thick flakes still descended, with
a disrespectful eye. So too did Boney when he stirred him
self to look out of the coach and assess the situation. He
looked up, yawned, and looked down, distastefully, at the
snow, which was now higher than he was.

Elinor ventured to the edge of the highway, and some
yards beyond their stopping place uncovered a milestone
announcing that they were two miles from Brackley,
where, she said, they must find an inn of some kind.

“I imagine we may leave the coach here perfectly safely,
as no one else is likely to be along before the snow stops. We should reach Brackley easily in an hour.”

Lord Vernon rolled his eyes and wrapped his cloak more
securely around himself. But when no one else made a
move to get the expedition under way, he resigned himself.

“Very well, then. Young Willy and I will walk to the
nearest inn. Marcus, you may stay behind to protect Miss
Bennett.”

Elinor laughed. “From what, pray, my lord?”

“Frostbite,” his lordship responded caustically. Then,
when Allingham began to protest this plan, he added, “I’m
sorry, Marcus, but it is now my turn to insist. You have
been driving for longer than your allotted time, and you are
tired. Don’t trouble to deny it. As for Miss Bennett—if you are ungallant enough to make her walk when there is abso
lutely no necessity for it, I am not. We will send someone
back for you both.”

By this time, Willy, recognising authority even when it is
sued from such an unlikely person as Lord Vernon, had be
gun to unhitch the horses and strap the hand baggage to
them. His lordship detached one of the lanterns and pre
pared to walk ahead of Willy, who led the horses.

“Do not stand about in the cold, Miss Bennett,” were his parting words. “And do not let that blasted feline fall into a
snowdrift!”

Elinor looked up at Allingham, who had raised no further
objection to Lord Vernon’s plans for them, and saw that he
was indeed looking weary. His blue eyes narrowed, trying
to peer through the swirling snow at the rapidly disappearing figures on the road. Soon they were gone, their
footsteps already beginning to fill in with new snow. Alling
ham shivered slightly, caught himself, turned it into a
shrug, and gave Elinor a chagrined look.

“Please do step inside, sir,” Elinor told him. “There is a
brazier that is quite safe, I believe, to light when the coach
is at a standstill. Perhaps you would care for a brandy as
well?”

Allingham smiled, remarked that it was not necessary for her to wait on him as if they were still at The LadyShip, and climbed into the coach. He watched Elinor pull the steps up
behind them, close the door, and light the small, oil-filled
brazier that was neatly fitted into a niche under one of the seats. He observed that—except for a slight reddening of
the tip of her nose—the cold did not have the generally
unattractive effects on her that it tended to do on most females. Her eyes were clear, her cheeks rosy but not rav
ished; she did not sniffle or complain, and in fact said
nothing at all. He wondered if she thought he preferred the
silence, but when he did make a remark, she looked up at him with a companionable smile.

“I am sorry about Her Ladyship, Miss Bennett—I feel cer
tain she would willingly have gone on, but as her driver I
felt a responsibility for her welfare that compelled me to be
cautious.”

“I own I am a little disappointed,” Elinor said, “but I do
not see how even Ned could have provided her with loco
motion under such circumstances.”

“I expect he will eventually contrive some way to run
her by steam power or some mechanical means when the
weather is too foul for mere horses.”

“Oh, no, I do not think so. Ned is old-fashioned—almost
too much so in some ways, including in his fine contempt
for such modern contraptions as steam carriages and pedes
trian curricles. He believes that any place that cannot be
reached on horseback is not worth getting to.”

“Including the Peninsula?”

Elinor smiled. “I think he went there only because he
was allowed to take his horses on board the transport with
him. I should think it entirely likely that he slept in the hold
with them!”

He smiled at her evident affection for her brother and re
marked that he looked forward to meeting Ned. But it was a
mistake—however inadvertent—to remind her of the cir
cumstances that had brought them to be stranded in the
snow in the middle of the night in the quite rightly deserted
wilds of Oxfordshire, for she fell silent again. He watched
her rub Boney lazily behind the ears and thought idly how
remarkably handy animals were when one did not know
what to say or do in some awkward situation.

He was about
to make some remark to this effect, but it seemed too foolish. Not that he had ever experienced any difficulty before
in striking up a conversation with her, foolish or not, but
something had changed between them. Discounting the
obvious, he searched his mind for what it might be—that
little scene earlier, perhaps, when he had been tempted to
indiscretion by the nearness of her smooth cheek and the
softness of her hair? He wondered now why he had not
given in to the temptation. It was still there, he realised,
admiring her long, shapely fingers against Boney’s fur—but
he could not take advantage of her in such a way. She was
not that kind of woman. Vernon had seen that right away—
why had it taken him so long?

“Miss Bennett,” he said suddenly, startling her into raising her head and glancing uneasily at him. “I fear we shall
be stranded here for some time, and although I am per
fectly comfortable and regret very much raising this
point—I’m hungry.”

Elinor laughed and looked, he thought, relieved. In fact,
she had, like him, been casting about in her mind for some
thing to say. Like him, she had been remembering
that earlier incident and wondering why he had not re
peated it—and wishing he would. She could only conclude
that he regretted it, and she was therefore both surprised
and relieved when he spoke again quite naturally.

“I beg your pardon, sir, I did not think to—well no, that is not precisely true. As Lord Vernon observed, I do sleep
occasionally, and I must even eat now and then—and I
agree that now seems a very good time! What will you
have, sir? I believe there is even some soup that may be
heated over the brazier.”

With Allingham’s assistance—which he offered with
the warning that it would more than likely hinder rather
than help, but he was blessed if he would let her do all
the work this time—Elinor contrived a princely feast
consisting in part of cold ham and chicken, several kinds of cheeses, some preserved fruits, and macaroons.
This was all laid out on a removable wooden shelf that
could be re-attached to the door panel and used as a
table. One of the small overhead compartments yielded a
full service of napery and flatware, and another a supply
of wax candles, which, there being no danger of their
dripping into the food, Elinor placed on the table. Allingham
poured wine into crystal glasses, which had sur
vived the jolting of the journey in cotton wadding and,
when Elinor was not looking, passed scraps of his chicken
to Boney, who sat on the floor gazing expectantly up at
him.

“I regret that the ladies will not be able to remove to another room to allow you to drink your brandy,” Elinor said
when they had finished, “but there is no other room. You may, however, smoke if you wish.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennett, but this is a very small space,
and I will not be so inconsiderate. Nor will I step outside, I
thank you! What other after-dinner diversions do those fas
cinating little compartments hold? Or perhaps you would care to cast my horoscope—like Guy Mannering?”

Elinor disclaimed any talent in reading the stars—and
did not in any case care to risk such an outcome as Mr
Scott’s hero had precipitated—but she thought there
might be a backgammon board or playing cards secreted somewhere. The latter were soon discovered in a leather
pocket beneath Allingham’s window, and he drew them
out triumphantly, saying, “Aha! My choice of weapons, I
believe.”

“Choose your game carefully, sir—I will tell you that had I not gone in for innkeeping, I might have opened a gaming
hell. I am accounted very adept at cards.”

“If that is a challenge, Miss Bennett, I accept. Piquet?”

“By all means—if you dare.”

Mr Allingham, his weariness long since forgotten, dealt
the cards. Miss Bennett almost immediately announced
carte blanche, whereupon her partner declared the battle
joined in earnest. For a time both players’ point scores
mounted evenly, but then Miss Bennett suggested playing
for penny-points and conversation gave way to the clink of coppers and the soft sound of cards being laid down,
and an occasional “My trick, sir, I believe,” or “Piqued,
ma’am!”

It was only after more than an hour’s play that Elinor saw
herself losing her lead—and indeed seeing the figures on
the cards begin to blur—and laid down her last hand. “I do
beg your pardon, sir, but I fear I must call a halt.”

“You do so in good time, ma’am—ever the strategist.
You are not more than a shilling or so in debt to me.”

Elinor smiled and promptly paid over the sum. Allingham
moved the window curtain and looked out on a clear
night. The snow had ceased; the moon had disappeared, but the pure white snow shone in the starlight.

“Should you care to sleep what is left of the night,
ma’am?”

“Thank you,” Elinor said, suppressing a yawn. “I fear I
have little choice. Do forgive me.”

With that, she pulled her fur rug more closely around her
and looked around for the most comfortable place to put
her pillow. Allingham reached out to take an already
soundly sleeping Boney out of her way, and she, half-
asleep, gripped his sleeve and murmured, “Please do not
trouble ...”

“No, certainly not,” he said, and, moving to her side of
the coach, pulled her head gently against his shoulder. She
curled up contentedly—rather like a kitten herself, he
thought with a smile—and fell soundly to sleep.

She did not know how long she slept in that position—
and indeed was scarcely aware of it—before a rattling
noise woke her and she sat up suddenly, causing Allingham
to break away from her so that she was not after
wards certain if he had really been there or she had only
dreamt it.

Then the rattle on the door was followed by a masculine
voice calling her name.

“Nell! Are you in there? Oh, curse it, Vernon, they must
be asleep. Wake up, Nell!”

At that, Elinor came immediately back to reality, looked at Allingham, who was as taken aback as she, and jerked
open the door. A rush of cold air came in, closely followed
by a large young man with curly hair and laughing brown
eyes.

“Ned! Whatever are you doing here?”

“Why, I’ve come to rescue you, m’dear! Look—we’ve
brought a sleigh!”

They looked out, to see Lord Vernon walking two sturdy
horses still harnessed to a large sleigh that glided noiselessly
over the snow. Ned helped his sister down from the coach,
and Allingham followed, to greet Lord Vernon and take him aside to question him.