The Road to Gretna (10 page)

“If you are known at the White Hart,” Penny said anxiously, recalling her mud-bespattered condition, “you cannot wish to appear there with so disreputable an object as myself. Your credit will be quite destroyed.”

“On the contrary, Miss Bryant, it can do my credit nothing but good to arrive with two charming young ladies, one of whom I have rescued from a most unfortunate accident.”

Despite his teasing tone, or perhaps because of it, she was reassured. Then she began to wonder whether he frequented the White Hart because it was cheaper than the other inns. For the first time, she noted that the cuffs of his greatcoat, still draped about her, were slightly worn. The blue coat he wore was elegant, to be sure, but it was the same one he had worn yesterday, and were the toes of his glossy Hessians a trifle scuffed?

She had nearly forgotten that he was almost certainly running off with Henrietta for her fortune.

The recollection faded as they entered a bustling market-place filled with stalls selling everything from fresh fish to garden hoes, from bright-hued Norwich silk shawls to pots and pans. The carriage slowed before a building crammed into one corner of the square. Its façade was of pink stucco, picked out in green, with fanciful plasterwork and rows of bas-relief statuettes. Driving through a passage under the upper stories, they came to a halt.

Angus expressed in somewhat pompous terms his appreciation for Lord Kilmore’s coming to their aid. Penny added her thanks, then said, “Which way are you going from here, sir? I daresay we may see you again?”

“We shall not part just yet, Miss Bryant. Henrietta is set upon accompanying you to the shops, and I mean to escort you both. However, first of all you will want to dry your clothes. I shall hire a parlour, and a chamber for you to change in.”

“I shall hire a chamber,” Angus interjected, scowling. “I tak’ leave tae remind your lairdship that Miss Bryant is travelling under my protection.”

“I beg your pardon, Doctor, you are quite right.”

“While you are changing, Penelope, I shall make arrangements for another vehicle, and then I shall be happy to squire you to the milliner.”

“Thank you, Angus,” she said meekly, though she suspected that where the purchase of a new bonnet was concerned his lordship’s advice would be of more use to her.

Angus reached for the door handle.

“Just a moment.” Jason put out a hand to stop him. “You know, the more I think on it, the more absurd it seems that we should travel in two carriages when we are all bound for the same destination. What do you say, Doctor? Shall we join forces?”

“Out of the question.”

“But why, Angus? I think it an excellent notion.”

“Ma dear Penelope, this is nae holiday excursion.”

“No, we are eloping, but so are they. We shall be able to travel faster in his lordship’s carriage than in a hired chaise.”

“‘His chariots shall be as a whirlwind: his horses are swifter than eagles,’” Mrs. Ratchett put in obligingly.

This argument having no visible effect on Angus, Penny decided to appeal to his purse—or rather his solicitude for hers—though she was loath to mention the vulgar subject before the baron. “I ...we shall have to pay to send someone to mend the chariot, bring it here, and store it until we can pick it up on our return. Only think how much we shall save if we share expenses for the rest of the journey.”

“And it will be much more fun,” Henrietta pointed out, gazing hopefully at the outgunned Scotsman. “How merry we shall be!”

The English, united, carried the day. “Verra weel,” grumbled Angus, as the carriage door was opened from the outside.

“M’lord.” Mullins, the stalwart coachman, stood there hat in hand, backed by a semicircle of puzzled waiters and ostlers. “Be your lordship a-goin’ to get down here, or do I tell ‘em to hitch up a new team?”

“Patience, man, patience,” said his lordship, grinning. “Our conclave is over. We shall stay an hour or two.”

As Angus was by the door, he stepped down first and requested a bedchamber. The inn servants goggled when he handed Penny down with her muddy hem protruding below the skirts of Jason’s greatcoat.

“I’ll ‘ave ‘ot water sent up for miss right away,” said one of the waiters, departing at a trot.

Not until Cora had helped her strip off her damp gown, and given it with her sodden, filthy pelisse to a chambermaid, did Penny wonder what she was going to wear to go shopping. Her only other gown was her evening sarcenet, hardly suitable for wandering about a country town at midday.

“You could cover it wi’ Miss Henrietta’s pink cloak,” said the abigail doubtfully. “A-a-atchoo! T’ain’t no good trying to put on one o’ miss’s gowns or fitted pelisses.”

“You don’t sound at all well, Cora.”

“I don’t feel too good, miss, and that’s the truth. Can’t be helped, though, can it. Will I unpack the cloak?”

“I suppose so. After all, I am not acquainted with anyone in the town, and Lord Kilmore and Dr. Knox have already seen me clad in mud from head to toe. They will hardly stare at a green evening gown with a too-short pink cloak and no hat.”

“There’s Miss Henrietta’s chip straw with the forget-me—
atishoo atishoo atishoo
. Beg pardon, miss.”

“Never mind the cloak or the chip straw. You slip out of your dress and into this bed. I’ll trust Henrietta and Lord Kilmore between them to buy me a suitable hat, and I’ll have our luncheon sent up here, yours and mine. You will feel better after a nap and a bowl of hot soup. Dr. Knox will make you up a draught of his willow bark decoction.”

“But Miss Henrietta...”

“She will have to take the kitten out herself, and Mrs. Ratchett can chaperon her,” said Penny firmly. Envisioning Henrietta shopping with Mrs. Ratchett at her heels, she was almost reconciled to the prospect of spending the next two hours confined with poor Cora.

The chambermaid conveyed Penny’s requests to the others. She sat by the window, enjoying the busy market scene, for less than half an hour before Henrietta came up, bearing a hat box.

“The only shop we went to was the milliner,” she said in disgust. “Your woman cannot walk more than a few yards without turning purple and panting and groaning. What is wrong with Cora? I need her.”

“Hush, she’s sleeping. She has a horrid cold, Henrietta—let her rest while she can. Is this my new hat?”

“Yes, it’s a present. I hope you like it.” She set the box on the dressing-table and took off the lid. “There was not much to choose from, not like in the London shops. Jason insisted on a white feather so you can find it in the dark, though I told him ladies do not go hunting for their bonnets in the dark.”

Only when they climb out of windows, Penny thought, pleased that he had remembered. “It is charming,” she said, taking from the box a russet-brown, shallow-brimmed bonnet, lined with white satin and trimmed with a curling white plume. “It matches my travelling gown.”

“Yes, was it not amazingly lucky we found it? Jason told the milliner your hair is the colour of a new-minted penny and she brought it out right away. There was nothing else worth buying, except one..., but Jason said it did not suit me. How glad I am I do not live in the country and have to buy my clothes in such shops always. Do you really like it?”

“I do. Thank you very much, Henrietta.”

She beamed, her pretty face bright with pleasure. “I must go down now and take Lily to play on the grass by the church. Look, you can see the spire from here, behind the houses on the other side of the square. Perhaps your gown will be dried by the time we return for luncheon.”

The chambermaid reported that the gown wouldn’t be fit to wear for at least an hour.

“His lordship says as they’ll wait luncheon, miss.”

“Pray tell him I shall eat up here.” Enough time was a-wasting because of her foolishness. Still, she could not regret that the chariot had broken down. How pleasant it would be travelling with Lord Kilmore—and Henrietta, of course, and in the comfort of his luxurious carriage.

Sitting by the chamber window once more, Penny saw Henrietta with Lily in her arms setting out across the square, escorted by both gentlemen but without Mrs. Ratchett’s chaperonage. She didn’t mind. He had likened her hair to a new-minted penny, and she was guaranteed his company for at least another three days.

CHAPTER NINE

As the carriage rolled past the ruins of Newark castle and over the bridge, Penny was disturbingly conscious of Jason’s leg pressed against hers, no longer separated by the thickness of his greatcoat. She fancied she could feel the shift of hard muscles as he adjusted to the motion of the vehicle.

Seeking a diversion, she twisted to look through the window back at the castle. The massive curtain wall with its three square towers dropped sheer to the River Trent, and was reflected in the still waters.

“It looks impregnable,” she said. “No wonder it withstood three sieges in the Civil War. I don’t quite understand, my lord, why King Charles should have ordered his men to surrender it to Cromwell.”

His lordship was ready to oblige with a discussion of the plots and follies of Charles I. Angus joined in with an occasional comment, while Mrs. Ratchett snored, Cora sniffed, and Henrietta sat in an abstracted silence.

Eventually Henrietta put an end to the conflict between Parliament and King by saying plaintively, “I wish I had purchased that bonnet in Newark. I believe it would have suited me after all, Jason. Pray let us go back at once and purchase it.”

“My dear, we are almost at Tuxford. We cannot possibly turn back now.”

“But I shall never find another quite like it.” Henrietta’s voice was tragic and tears welled in her blue eyes.

Looking harassed, Jason took her hand in his. Before he could speak, Penny intervened.

“Tell me about it, Henrietta," she suggested. “What colour was it?”

“Purple velvet, with a bunch of grapes and a wreath of vine leaves round the crown. It was quite charming. The ribbons were green to match the leaves.”

Penny winced, imperceptibly she hoped. “It sounds irresistible. "What a pity that purple is so aging! It always brings to mind elderly dowagers, does it not? And grapes—a delightful conceit. I cannot imagine why so many people consider artificial fruit a trifle vulgar.”

Beside her, Jason was shaking with silent laughter.

Fortunately Henrietta did not appear to notice, to judge by her response. “Of course, Cora would have had to take off the grapes if I had bought it. It would have made a splendid present for my great-aunt Williams, but she never goes out so she does not wear bonnets. A cap will be of more use to her, do you not think, Penny?”

“A cap will be the very thing,” said Penny gravely as the carriage drove up to the Newcastle Arms at Tuxford.

“Quick-witted, Miss Bryant,” Jason murmured, then said aloud, “I believe I shall hire a hack and ride for a stage. What say you, Doctor, will you join me and leave the ladies room to breathe freely for a while?”

Squeezed as he was by Mrs. Ratchett’s overflowing mass, Angus eagerly agreed. The gentlemen stepped down from the carriage. Though the day was now sunny, even growing hot, Penny felt a momentary chill down her right side where Jason’s warmth had been.

“Ah, that is better,” said Henrietta with satisfaction, smoothing her peach lutestring skirts. “My dress is horridly crushed.”

“I fear we are crowding you shockingly. I don’t like to think that we have driven Lord Kilmore from your side. Perhaps we had best hire a carriage tomorrow after all.”

“Oh no, pray do not. Jason likes to ride every day and it is prodigious dull without him. Only I am glad he is gone for a while because now Lily can come out of her basket, poor thing. He said she must be shut up. Cora, let Lily out, if you please.”

“Is she recovered from the bee-sting?” Penny enquired as the sleeping kitten was rudely awakened and handed to her mistress.

“The swelling is quite gone down and it does not pain her any more. How very clever your Dr. Knox is! I wonder if he could cure Papa’s gout. Poor Papa suffers dreadfully.”

“I doubt he can cure it, but perhaps he knows some remedies to alleviate the pain. Why don’t you ask him?”

“I will,” said Henrietta happily. “Cora, where is my handkerchief? Lily wants to play.”

While the kitten obligingly batted with a tiny white paw at a handkerchief dangled before it, the carriage started off again. The gentlemen appeared alongside on horseback.

Jason sat his wall-eyed roan with an easy grace which contrasted strongly with Angus’s obvious awkwardness astride a bony dapple-grey. Penny wondered how long it was since the doctor had ridden. He didn’t own a horse and generally took a hackney if he had to go farther than easy walking distance to visit a patient. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

Riding up close to the window on Henrietta’s side, Jason leaned down and said, “We are going to canter ahead a short way, my dear.”

“You will not go far, will you, Jason? I shall be sadly nervous if you go too far ahead.”

Penny saw Jason bite back the impatient words which rose to his lips. “Not too far,” he promised, “but I’m sure you have no need to be nervous with Miss Bryant at your side.”

“You are right, I daresay Penny is equal to anything. She is as bold as any gentleman.”

Though Henrietta no doubt intended a compliment, Penny cringed inwardly at this devastating description. Jason met her eyes with an understanding glance.

“Valiant is the word I should choose,” he said, then straightened in the saddle and rode off, leaving her somewhat comforted. Perhaps he did consider her unfemininely bold, but at least he was kind enough to conceal his opinion.

She untied the ribbons of her new bonnet. The day really was uncommonly warm.

The kitten soon tired of playing with the handkerchief, curled up on the seat, and went back to sleep. Henrietta proceeded to enliven the journey with a minute description of all the “frightful quizzes” of hats she had inspected at the Newark milliner’s. Eventually she ran out of material for scorn and fell to musing. Penny wondered what was going through her head; she suspected that a penny would be too dear a price to pay for her thoughts.