The Portrait (9 page)

Everyone inside the coach was thrown heavily to one side,
and there were cries and oaths of differing force from its
occupants amid the sound of splintering wood and breaking
glass. Jennifer felt herself pinioned securely to the earl, his
right arm holding her fast against his side.

"Any harm done, Jen?" he asked as she attempted to right
herself.

"I'm fine, sir," she replied, then added ruefully, "you cush ioned my fall." Her gaze involuntarily went to his left shoulder. "I hope I haven't injured you, Edward. I would never forgive myself...."

"I, too, am fine," he said with a reassuring smile. "Though I
don't think Mr. Griffin has fared as well. He appears considerably winded."

The Misses Griffin appeared to be of no use whatsoever in
such a situation, one indulging in a fit of hysterics while the
other swooned completely away. The cleric however, seemed
equal to the task. Pushing open the off-side door, which was
now uppermost, he climbed out and, taking hold of Jennifer's
hand, pulled her clear of the doorway. Aided by Sinclair from
inside the coach, Mr. Griffin, amid much huffing and puffing,
was carefully raised aloft, the cleric taking him to sit on the opposite side of the lane away from the vehicle and the unsettled
horses.

The coach driver, relinquishing the care of his animals to
the guard, came to the opening. "Out with you, sir," he said to
the earl, giving him a hand to aid his ascent, then turned to the
cleric. "If you would but climb once more into the coach, sir,
we can lift the ladies out."

Once the spinsters were retrieved from the coach and been
assured that no further danger was likely, they appeared to
rally and confined their energies to the care of their father,
who also appeared to be recovering from the experience. The
coachman, mounting one of the wheelers, declared his intention of riding back to the last coaching inn they had visited to secure another vehicle so that they might continue
their journey.

As the afternoon advanced into early evening and dusk began to fall, Jennifer sat with chin in hand on the bank a little
way from the rest of the travelers. Standing before her, the earl
watched for any sign of the returning coachman, but as none
was apparent, he turned to face her.

"I see no point in waiting here longer," he said. "I noticed
that we passed a small inn on the road, probably not more
than two or three miles back. I think it would be prudent to seek accommodation before our companions have the same
idea and all the rooms are spoken for. It would not do that we
should be forced to spend the night in the open."

"An excellent idea," agreed Jennifer, coming to her feet and
picking up her cloak bag.

Having taken leave of their fellow passengers, who all declared their intention of awaiting the replacement coach, they
retraced their steps along the dusty lane.

As they walked, Jennifer examined the earl's profile. "Do
you regret setting out with me, Edward?" she asked in a small
voice.

"To tell the truth, surprisingly, I do not," he replied, returning her regard and smiling. "I thought at first that I would, but
I was quite wrong. Though I know not what they will be
thinking in London when our absence is discovered."

"They will think that we've eloped." She giggled, adding a
little skip to her step, seemingly amused by the whole idea.

"And that thought does not worry you?"

"Not in the least. They may think what they like. Arthur
will be monstrously disappointed when he finds out that it's
not true"

"So will Flora," he admitted reluctantly. "She's quite given
up on me now that she realizes that I intend never to marry.
Perhaps 'tis cruel of us to give her false hopes. However, perchance no connection will be made between our actions."

"I think that hardly likely when we've been the cause of so
much gossip, do you?"

He grimaced. "Sadly, no. We must hope that our quest
doesn't take us overlong. It would not do that we should be
gone too lengthy a time. As it is, we must evolve some explanation that will prove acceptable. Without some such, it will
be deemed that I've ruined you. Your reputation will be in tatters. Didn't you think of the consequences before setting out
on such an expedition?"

She hung her head, scuffing her toes as they walked. "To be
honest, Edward, I didn't give it any thought. My one desire
was to salvage Freddie. I shouldn't have embroiled you in my schemes, but you were the only one I thought I could safely
turn to."

A light of devilment lit his eyes. "What of Melville? Would
he not have served your cause equally well?"

Stopping in her tracks, she cast him a disparaging look, one
almost of disgust. "Edward Thurston, you are hateful. Why do
you find it necessary to be always throwing Melville at my
head?"

"I thought you favored him," he said innocently.

"I most certainly do not!"

"Then whom do you favor?"

"I favor no one!" she replied hotly. "And should you find
it necessary to pursue this train of thought, I will continue
this journey on my own. I will not be cross-examined on the
subject."

"Caught a raw nerve, have I, Jen?"

"No!" she cried, increasing her pace and going before him.

Sinclair followed, watching with amusement the straightening of her shoulders and the effort she put into her step. However, he was loath for any discord to exist between them, and,
lengthening his stride, he caught up with her. Jenny cast him a
sidelong glance beneath her lashes but forbore any comment,
and within minutes an easy camaraderie existed once more.

It was fully dark by the time they finally arrived at their destination, the sign above the doorway proclaiming that they'd
reached The King's Arms.

When they entered the small inn, muted sounds came from
the taproom set to the left. Opening the door sufficiently to
seek out the landlord, Sinclair was pleased to note that there
appeared no more than a few locals taking their ease. The landlord came forward, a look akin to astonishment on his round,
cheerful face. Never before had members of The Quality patronized his humble establishment, and it took him quite by
surprise to find such visitors in his hallway. For, as he said in
a hasty aside to his wife, who'd just appeared from the kitchen
at the rear, these were no ordinary travelers. It confounded him to find them afoot and with no visible means of transport.
Even the earl's explanation of the accident in the lane didn't
satisfy his curiosity, and he wondered why someone who was
obviously of the gentry should be traveling on the common
coach. Nonetheless, he was more than willing to offer them
the hospitality of his modest establishment.

Standing in the low-pitched entrance hall, Sinclair made
known his requirements. "I would be grateful if you would
provide a room for myself and another for my pupil," he said.

The landlord appeared much disconcerted. "We've ...
we've but one bedchamber that would be suitable, sir. The
others would not do you-not at all. Could not the boy share
it with you?"

"Definitely not," replied the earl. Then, as some explanation was obviously necessary, he added, "He snores!"

Jennifer turned sharply toward her traveling companion,
casting him a look of extreme indignation, and she was even
more angered to encounter the look of amusement in his eyes.

"I am quite in sympathy with you, sir," replied the landlord.
"Perhaps it would prove beneficial to you if the young gentleman had a truckle bed set up in the closet?"

"As the hour is late and there appears no alternative, it
would seem that arrangement will have to suffice," replied the
earl, taking hold of Jennifer's elbow and giving it a meaningful squeeze to prevent any thoughts of rebellion. "Do you
have a parlor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I would be obliged if you would waste no time in
serving us supper there"

The landlord bowed them into a small cozy room at the rear
of the house that was obviously intended for his own family's
use but had hastily been vacated in honor of the newly arrived
visitors.

"Would a supper of ham and eggs with a veal pie suit you,
your honor?" he asked. "And perhaps a nice slice of apple pie?
My wife's very well known for her apple pie."

"It would suit admirably," replied Sinclair, not at all daunted by the prospect of such plain fare. "Ale too, and lemonade for
the la-lad."

"You were going to say lady, weren't you?" accused
Jennifer as the landlord withdrew and they made themselves
comfortable in the two winged chairs set before the hearth. "I
might have known you wouldn't be able to keep up the masquerade"

"You caught me out." The earl laughed. "Even after I'd
been so careful as to ensure that we had separate rooms"

"I will not qualify that remark with a reply," returned
Jennifer haughtily.

Sinclair's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Have no fear, it is I who
will sleep in the closet, Jem, and you will be assured of your
comfort."

Jennifer remained indignant, despite not being entirely impervious to the gleam in her companion's eye. "Couldn't you
have thought of some excuse other than I snore? I'm sure that
if it had been the other way about, I could've found a more
noble explanation."

"Then perhaps I am not as practiced at bending the truth as
you would appear to be, Jeremiah."

An extremely incensed response was prevented at that moment by the arrival of the ham and eggs and veal pie. Neither
had been aware of just how hungry they'd become, and, seating themselves at the small table, they set to with great zeal.

"Country air certainly improves one's appetite," commented
Jennifer as they awaited the appearance of the apple pie.

"At least I need have no fear of you wasting away, my
dear," commented the earl with some amusement. "It's quite
refreshing to see a young lady who doesn't find it necessary to
declare she has the appetite of a bird. I fail to see the sense in
that"

"Then you've not been schooled in the niceties of a young
lady in society. One must appear to scarcely need sustenance,
to preserve one's ethereal air. Besides, you said that I must behave as a scrubby schoolboy. I merely do as I am bid."

"A role you fill quite admirably. One would suspect you born to it." He laughed, unable to contain his amusement further. "I
can scarcely believe you to be the same elegant Lady Jennifer
who is the darling of society. You've taken on a surprising
new persona-one I never would have suspected you capable
of, although one I must admit to having taken a liking to"

The apple pie arrived fresh from the oven, the landlady
bringing a jug of thick cream that she thought the young gentleman would like, and she patted Jen's cheek as she passed.
"You remind me so of my youngest boy," she commented. Encountering a strange look from the earl, she dropped a hasty
curtsy. "Begging the sir's pardon, I'm sure," she said, making
a hurried exit.

It was as well that she did not stay, for she would've thought
it most strange to see the two gentlemen engaged in a most unseemly bout of laughter.

The closet, connected to the small but neat bedchamber by a
door, proved to be no more than a cupboard. The truckle bed almost filled its entire space, making it difficult for the earl to
stand inside. He had to bend his head to enter, his broad shoulders almost filling the doorway. Jennifer laughed at his predicament as she sat hugging her knees on the large bed.

"I do think we would fare much better if I slept in there"
She giggled, watching his efforts to ease his frame into the
small space allowed. "I don't need half the room that you do.
I could be quite comfortable."

Grinning ruefully, the earl stepped reluctantly back into the
bedroom. "I doubt the bed would take my length, though it
would be less than noble of me to consign you to such a fate"

"Nonsense!" she cried, coming to her feet. "I would be quite
cozy in there" Pushing past him, she sat on the bed. "See? I fit
perfectly."

Seeing the sense of the arrangement, Sinclair could do
naught but agree, though he liked not the thought that she was
forced to endure the cramped conditions of the closet. "You
must leave the door ajar, should you have need of me," he or dered. "And if you become uncomfortable, we must exchange
places."

"Stop wittering, Edward," she admonished, smiling impishly up at him. "I will do extremely well in here if you would
just pass my bag so that I may undress"

He passed her bag, and the door was closed while she prepared to retire.

Taking up his own valise, he laid it on the bed and opened
the straps, but, as he put his hand inside, his fingers encountered a small oval object, and he lifted it from its resting place.
Even in the dim light cast by the lone candle, he knew what
he held. It was the portrait. Hastily he pushed it back into the
valise; it would not do that his companion should see it. He
could not believe that he'd been so foolish as to bring it with
him, but so used had he become to having it always with him
that, in his inebriated state, he must have automatically packed
it along with his other necessities.

Seeing that the closet door remained closed, he retrieved the
miniature once more. Taking it to the window, he drew the curtain slightly to one side so that the moon's pale light shone
weakly on the sweet face. His lips slowly curved into a smile
as his eyes caressed each feature, his senses drinking in her
fragile beauty. He studied it for as long as he dared before raising it to his lips and then once more replacing it among his belongings, knowing that Jennifer must never see it.