The Road to Gretna (12 page)

He should have guessed that Henrietta didn’t understand the distance they had to travel. Had he run mad to agree to elope with her when he could quite well have married her respectably in Town?

It was too late now to change his mind. As the old saw had it, he had made his bed and now he must lie in it.

The carriage was far behind when Jason reached the Golden Lion at Ferrybridge, an attractive inn on the bank of the River Aire, close by the new bridge. Dismounting, he went in and ordered dinner, a private parlour, and five bedchambers. The place was large enough that Penny and Henrietta could each have a room to herself, and he had no intention of sharing with the Scotsman.

He went up to his chamber, a spacious apartment with the huge bed common to inns dating from a period when travellers not infrequently shared a bed with strangers. While he washed the road dirt from his face and hands, the bootboy brushed the worst of the mud from his top-boots. Going back downstairs, he stepped out of the front door just in time to see the maroon carriage round a bend and pull into the yard.

The worthy doctor was the first to step out, if “step” was the correct word. He moved with the crabbed caution of an eighty-year-old, having obviously stiffened during the drive.

Jason was wickedly tempted to offer his arm to help the man into the inn, but nobly he forbore, merely saying, “I ordered a hot bath for you, Knox. No doubt it will be ready soon, now that you are arrived.”

He turned to hand the ladies down. Penny’s face was stormy. Henrietta looked pale and fragile, and he realized with a rush of remorseful compassion that her tiredness was not simply the boredom of an empty mind. She really was a delicate child.

“We are well past half-way to Gretna, my dear,” he said. “Come, you will feel better after a meal and a good night’s sleep.” He put his arm about her waist to support her and followed Penny and Angus, leaving Mullins to assist Mrs. Ratchett and Cora, who seemed to have developed a racking cough.

The landlord ushered them into the private parlour, promising that all the chambers would be ready and supplied with hot water in five minutes. Regardless of etiquette, the doctor creaked into a chair at the table, and Henrietta drooped into another opposite him. Penny dropped her reticule on the table and stripped off her gloves.

“This is intolerable!” she exclaimed.

“Admittedly, five minutes is a long time to wait,” said Jason, quizzing her, “but I fear this is the only inn in Ferrybridge.”

She glared at him. “That dreadful woman only stops chewing or snoring to depress us with the Lamentations of Jeremiah. Poor Cora cannot help her coughs and sneezes but she is in no condition to travel. We cannot continue like this.”

“Whisht noo, Penelope."

She transferred her glare to the doctor. “Don’t whisht me! You are in no condition to ride, so that we are crammed in to the carriage like peas in a pod. If we were to send Cora and Mrs. Ratchett home there would be plenty of room for you.”

“And for me,” Jason agreed. “An excellent notion, ma’am.”

“Oot o’ the question. The baith o’ ye maun needs hae your chaperons.”

“We can chaperon each other, can we not, Henrietta?”

“Perfectly adequate, in the circumstances.” Jason was enjoying the battle.

“But I cannot possibly manage without an abigail,” said Herrietta in a petulant voice.

“0’ course ye canna, Miss White. Naebody expects ye tae gang wi’oot.”

“I can perfectly well help you with everything the chambermaids cannot do, Henrietta. Cora ought to be in bed, anyway.”

A series of damply explosive sneezes at once underlined Penny’s words and announced the arrival of Cora and Mrs. Ratchett.

“She certainly ought to retire immediately.” Jason regarded with pitying distaste the red-nosed, red-eyed maid, clutching her sodden handkerchief in one hand and the kitten’s basket in the other. “Cora, you shall stay here a day or two, until you are somewhat recovered, and then go home to London on the mail coach.”

“Oh, by lord, do’t bake be go alode od the bail! Atchoo! Add what if the baster won't take be id, after I rud off with Biss Hedrietta?”

“‘The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the—'"

“Mr. White will take you in," Jason interrupted. He was thoroughly in sympathy with Penny’s eagerness to be rid of her chaperon. “I promise you he won’t hold it against you that you accompanied your mistress. I'll give you a letter for him.” Noting Penny’s surprise at his certainty, he hurried on, “As for travelling alone, Mrs. Ratchett will stay with you here to take care of you, and go with you back to Town."

“That I will, and what’s more I’ll take you home with me if there’s trouble with your master. I don’t rightly hold with all this here travelling. ‘The eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth.’”

“I canna gi’ ma consent. ‘Tis no proper for Penelope to be waiting on Miss White. Nay, they maun gang wi’ us.” With an air of finality Angus rose to his feet, unable to repress a moan as he did so.

“‘Physician, heal thyself,’” observed Mrs. Ratchett maliciously.

The afflicted doctor scowled at her and changed his mind. “Verra weel, Penelope, if ye hae set your mind on it, I’ll no stand in your way.” He stumped towards the door, where the innkeeper appeared to announce that all was now ready above stairs to receive the ladies and gentlemen.

“Your trick,” Jason murmured as Penny passed him. She flashed him a smile.

Alone in the parlour, he called for a bottle of claret, poured himself a glass of the ruby-rich wine, and emptied it. Refilled glass in hand, he strolled out to the front door to watch the sun sink between fiery wisps of cloud in a blaze which reminded him of Penny’s hair.

The sound of a Scottish voice raised in exasperated protest floated from an open window above him, but he could not make out the words. A moment later the landlord hurried up to him.

“My lord! I beg your lordship’s pardon, I’m sure, but the Scotch gentleman insists that the young ladies must share a chamber, and only your lordship’s chamber is large enough without I turn out my other guests, being as I naturally gave your lordship the biggest available.”

“Have them join me, by all means,” he said affably.

The innkeeper produced a nervous smirk. “Your lordship is pleased to jest, but..."

“Come, man, of course you must give the ladies my room, with my compliments. You may put me where you will.”

“The chamber directly opposite, my lord. 'Tis a trifle on the small side, but I trust your lordship will be comfortable none the less.”

“No doubt.” He waved dismissal and the man hurried off.

Returning to his contemplation of the sunset, Jason reflected that at least Angus Knox was no toad-eater. He never thought twice before contradicting the orders of his noble travelling companion, nor did he strive to humour his prospective bride. So perhaps Penny was not an heiress after all. The house in Russell Square could well belong to the uncle she feared so, and she herself might be no more than a poor relation.

She had brought only two gowns with her, he recalled, and she did not scruple to act as abigail to Henrietta. Yet he was sure she was paying for the journey. Could she have stolen the money from her uncle?

Jason had attempted an abduction, but in his worst moments he had never stooped to cheating or thievery. The suspicion that Penny was a thief ought to help him fight the attraction he felt for her. Even the possibility that she was poor ought to be enough to counteract her charms. But when he heard her voice behind him, he swung round with a glad heart and a smile of welcome on his lips.

“I have taken another trick, sir. I’ve persuaded Henrietta to lie down for half an hour before dinner. I am sadly in need of exercise. There can be no objection—do you think?--if I walk a short way along the river-bank before it grows dark.”

“If you will accept my escort, ma’am, no objection at all.”

The last streaks of red and gold faded from the western sky as they turned away from the bridge and strolled through deepening dusk along the flat, grassy bank. Mysterious plops and squeaks and scurryings suggested the presence of water-rats and other denizens of the river.. On the far side a duck flapped its wings, a flurry of quacks echoing across the water as it settled for the night. Somewhere an owl hooted.

The scene was too romantic to be resisted.

“Take my arm, Miss Bryant. You will stumble.”

“I...Best not, my lord.” Her voice was slightly husky. “Angus’s chamber faces this way. I would not wish him to...to misinterpret your kindness in squiring me."

She moved a little farther apart from him and they walked in silence for a few minutes, a quivering tension between them. When she spoke again her tone was determinedly playful.

“I have been wondering, my lord, how it is you are so certain that Mr. White will forgive Cora for her part in Henrietta’s elopement?”

He evaded the question. “Surely an elopement is no place for such formality, even though we are not eloping with each other. Will you not drop the ‘my lord’?”

“As you wish, Kilmore.” She sounded more amused than flattered. “I daresay you expect to make free with my Christian name in return

“Naturally, Miss Penelope. But I was hoping for Jason, not Kilmore.”

“Then I wish you will not call me Penelope. I abhor it!’’

“Penny, then.”

“Thank you. Now that that is settled, I shall return to my quest for information. How is it, Jason, that you confidently expect Mr. White to receive Cora with open arms? Or were you saying so just to soothe her apprehensions?”

He sighed. “What a persistent and inquisitive creature you are. As a matter of fact, Mr. White is a fellow conspirator of mine.”

“Conspirator?”

“Henrietta often talked of the romance of running away to be wed at Gretna Green. When I applied to Mr. White for her hand, I made some facetious remark about how dissatisfied she would be with a tame church wedding. Being the most indulgent of fathers, he couldn’t bear to disappoint her, and so the plot was hatched between us.”

“You are eloping with his permission!”

“With his encouragement." He wanted to ask whether that fact changed her opinion of him, and if so, how. He dared not. “Henrietta doesn’t know, of course, or all the romance would be gone. You won’t feel it necessary to tell her, I trust?”

“Heavens, no. Who am I to destroy anyone’s illusions?” She shivered as a sudden breeze rippled the water. “We had better go back now.”

As they turned, he took her hand and tucked it beneath his arm. She did not protest but walked quietly at his side, seemingly lost in thought.

The sky was a deep, rich indigo, save for a patch of pale green in the distant west where the evening star twinkled. Not far ahead, the river reflected the cheerful lights of the Golden Lion. Jason wished the inn a thousand leagues off, wished he had not made such a mess of his life, wished he had not retained enough sense of honour to consider himself irrevocably bound to Henrietta.

All too soon they reached the corner of the building, and Penny withdrew her hand.

“I’m hungry now,” she said lightly. “I’ll go and fetch Henrietta down.”

“Then I shall tell them to serve dinner in an hour. She will scarcely be ready sooner.”

“You wait and see. I shall have her seated at table within the quarter hour. Otherwise I am like to drop dead of starvation”

He watched her go swiftly up the stair, then ordered dinner and repaired to their parlour. Angus, seated by a small coal fire, looked up from his book with a pugnacious expression on his round face.

“Miss Penny and I have had a pleasant stroll by the river,” said Jason smoothly, getting his word in first. “She felt the need of exercise after being cooped up in the carriage for so many hours, and I thought you wouldn’t wish her to go alone.”

“Nay, but I—"

“She was of the opinion—and I had to agree—that you would not care to go. I trust the hot bath has eased your discomfort somewhat?”

“Aye, ma laird, but—”

“Good. Miss Penny and I also agreed that it’s ridiculous to be on formal terms when we are all eloping together. May I hope that you will see your way to abandoning my title?”

The Scotsman gave him a measuring stare, then shrugged. “If you choose, Kilmore. As you say, in our regrettably ramshackle circumstances a certain lack of etiquette can scarcely signify.”

Jason decided he liked the man better angry than pompous. He still couldn’t imagine what Penny saw in him.

“Will you take a glass of wine?” he offered, pouring the claret.

Angus accepted, but he didn’t touch his wine until they all sat down to dinner. Though Penny was as good as her word, bringing Henrietta down after no more than ten minutes, Jason had finished the bottle by then and called for another. He drank steadily throughout the meal, trying to drown the dull ache inside him, but he had a hard head. His speech remained clear, and when the ladies departed, his bow was the usual model of elegance.

None the less, when Penny turned at the door to bid the gentlemen good-night, her searching look brought a flush to his cheeks. Be damned to her, he thought savagely, and called for brandy.

Her betrothed left him soon after. He sat alone by the glowing coals, sipping at glass after glass until the level in the bottle had sunk half-way and a mellow warmth pervaded him. If the coldness at his heart was still there, he could not feel it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Penny strolled with Jason along the river-bank in the sunshine, his arm about her waist, his dark eyes gazing warmly into hers. She knew she was dreaming because she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet. She wanted to dream forever.

The creak of a door hinge, the click of a latch dropping transported her instantly, in the manner of dreams, to a bedchamber. She was lying in bed, watching drowsily as he entered her room, a candle illuminating his face for a moment before he turned away to cross the room with slightly unsteady steps. Shadows danced. He set the candle on the dressing-table, took off his coat, his neckcloth, his waistcoat, unfastened his shirt.