Authors: Hazel Statham
She considered the matter briefly, studying his face. "We
do well enough as friends though, don't we, Ned?"
"Aye, as friends we do admirably." He smiled, and then a
teasing light came into his eyes. "Though I could wish for a little more respect from my young brother when in company.
I will not have it announced to all and sundry that I snore
when it was you who kept me awake half the night with your
mutterings."
She picked up her hat from the seat beside her and, laughing, threw it at his head, but he deftly caught it before it made contact.
"I said you were a hoyden" He laughed, placing the hat out
of her reach. "Heaven help the man who finally takes you to
wife. He does so with my deepest sympathy."
"That need not worry you, Edward," she replied haughtily.
"It's no concern of yours. I, too, have decided never to marry."
"Then that is a great pity, my dear."
She moved to a corner of the coach and sat with chin resting in hand as she studied the passing countryside, and silence
reigned.
"I've spoken to the coachman, and he suggests either The
Pheasant or an inn that has the dubious name of The Sow's
Ear," the earl informed Jennifer when next they stopped to
change horses and alighted to partake of refreshment. "He informs me that The Pheasant is often frequented by sporting
gentlemen on their way to the races, so 'twould appear that
The Sow's Ear may be more suitable. What say you, Jem? Do
you think you could be comfortable in an inn that rejoices in
such a name?"
"If it's the quieter of the two, then most certainly," replied
Jennifer, finishing the last of her cold lamb. "If we wish to remain undiscovered, it appears we've no choice in the matter.
'Pon reflection, 'tis quite a colorful name"
"Then we must hope the patrons to be less so and that we are
able to secure separate bedchambers. It would not do to tempt
providence a second time and risk discovery."
Sinclair drained the last of his ale and rose from the table,
indicating that she should do the same, and, after paying the
shot, he guided her once more to the waiting chaise.
Once inside and the journey resumed, he said, "I've been
thinking, Jenny. Tomorrow I believe it would be prudent to break
our journey at Ashbourne and for you to change into your skirts.
It won't do that you should arrive at our destination in your guise
of schoolboy. It would only complicate matters"
"What of the coachman and postillion-will they not think it strange?" she asked in some surprise. She'd not given her
new persona a second thought or even contemplated her reception when she should at last confront Freddie.
"From the curious stare the coachman gave you at our last
halt, I believe he may have his suspicions already," the earl informed her. "He may even believe he's party to an elopement."
"Pish, who would elope to Buxton?" she scoffed. "If we'd
been bound for the border, then I could understand his reasoning. But Buxton? No!"
"You have brought a suitable gown with you, haven't you?"
"Of course I have," she replied indignantly.
"Then I will have no argument. You will change into it tomorrow."
She firmed her chin, casting him a mutinous look. "What if
I refuse?"
"That would not be wise," he said severely. "You will not
refuse. We make a stop at Ashbourne."
"And if I don't comply?" she persisted.
"Then I will find it necessary to dress you myself."
"You wouldn't dare"
"There you have the wrong of it, my dear. I most certainly
would dare."
"Edward!" came her incensed reply. "I would not have believed it of you!"
He laughed. "That shows just how little you know me, Jeremiah. If you challenge me, I will most certainly carry out my
threat"
"Edward Thurston ..
"I know. I know," he said, laughing. "I've heard it often
enough"
"Well, I do. I hate you!"
It lacked but five minutes to ten when the travelers laid
weary foot in the small, dimly lit private parlor of The Sow's
Ear. A general hum emanated from the taproom on the other
side of the corridor, but other than that, the inn appeared
sparsely inhabited. To the earl's relief, two bedchambers were secured, albeit on different floors. Ordering their supper to be
served as soon as possible, they determined that once the meal
was over, they would immediately seek repose.
"The young gentleman looks quite done up, sir," confided
the proprietor to the earl when he ordered the repast.
Jennifer cast him a tired glance as she took her seat on the
settle beside the small fire that made the room less chilly. She
had been quiet for some time and felt disinclined to enter into
conversation, leaving Sinclair to make what arrangements
were necessary.
"I trust I chose rightly for supper?" asked the earl, taking
his seat on the opposite side of the hearth.
She nodded briefly, even this seeming an effort in her
weary state.
"Try not to fall asleep, my dear," said Sinclair softly, as he
watched her eyelids begin to fall. "You will only feel the
worse for it."
"I am not going to sleep. I merely rest my eyes," lied Jenny
valiantly, as her head drooped onto her chest.
Rising from his seat, the earl gently lifted her feet from
the floor so that she lay on the settle. He attempted to ease
her into a more comfortable position, cursing softly at what
he perceived as his clumsiness, with having but one arm to
achieve the task. However, she nestled quite contentedly on
the ill-padded seat, murmuring slightly as she rested her head
in the crook of her arm. He tried to catch her words, but they
were inaudible, and he resumed his seat.
He sat studying his companion's sleeping countenance. As
he took in her sleep-softened features and tousled hair, his
own expression softened in contemplation, but the moment of
reverie was short-lived as the maids arrived with the meal. He
raised his hand to indicate that they should go quietly about
their task, but their clattering as they laid the meal on the table
roused Jenny, and she slowly raised herself up.
"I was not asleep, Ned," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I
promise you, I was not asleep."
"Of course you weren't." He smiled indulgently. "You
merely rested your eyes. I know you are tired, but try to take
some nourishment, and then you may seek your bed"
"I'm too tired. Couldn't I just sleep? You can wake me
when you've finished."
Taking her arm, he raised her from the settle, slowly pulling
her to her feet. "Even if it's only the broth, you must take
something, Jen. Come, sit at the table, and you will feel more
awake"
With lagging steps, she did as he bade her, taking the chair
he held for her. "Am I a trial to you, Ned?" she asked with a
wan smile.
"A severe trial, my dear," he said, a wealth of warmth in his
eyes and voice as, taking his own seat, he pushed the broth toward her. "Though I must tell you that at this precise moment
you bear a distinct resemblance to a dormouse"
She chuckled drowsily. "I quite like dormice."
"So do I, my dear, so do I," he said soberly, and, pressing
the spoon into her hand, he bade her eat.
They spoke little during the meal; it was not necessary, so
comfortable were they in each other's company. Once the meal
was over, the earl pushed his chair from the table and, standing, placed his arm about Jennifer and raised her to her feet.
"Come, I will assist you to your bedchamber," he said
softly. "We leave at first light so that we may complete our
journey. You will feel more revived in the morning."
She laid her head against his shoulder, allowed him to lead
her from the room, and with his aid mounted the stairs to the
first landing. As they achieved the corridor, a figure started
out of the shadows and, pushing past them, quickly descended
the stairs to disappear into the taproom.
"Who was that?" asked Jenny, lifting her head from his
shoulder to look in the direction of the vanishing figure.
"Probably one of the locals," replied the earl, frowning
slightly. But there had been nothing of the local about the cut
of the man's garb. Indeed, in the poor light there appeared something familiar about his shadowed countenance, but he
would not tell Jenny. He had no wish to alarm her.
Closing the bedchamber door softly as he left his sleepy
charge with instructions to lock it after him, Sinclair, instead
of seeking his own repose, once more descended to the ground
floor. He stood for a moment outside the taproom door before
pushing it wide. Due to the lateness of the hour, the dimly lit
room was almost deserted. Only a few hardy individuals remained to sit over their ale. He scanned their faces as each
looked toward the door to see who entered, but none seemed
familiar. Taking one last look, he decided that he must have
been mistaken in thinking he knew the man on the stair, and,
returning to the parlor, he ordered a bottle of brandy to be
brought to him.
The hour was quite advanced before the earl forsook the parlor and, taking a candle from the hallway, once more climbed
the stairs to his own bedchamber. Entering the darkened room,
he placed the candle on the small table beside the bed and, in its
flickering light, prepared to retire.
Taking the portrait from the valise, he climbed between the
sheets. Lying back against the pillows, by the candle's soft
light, he examined the beauty's features, his mind taking a
fanciful turn. However, his tender musings were brought to an
abrupt end when he heard a soft footfall pause outside his door
and saw the light of a candle halt there. Pushing the miniature
hastily beneath the pillows, he watched as a shadow appeared
to move tentatively in the corridor, and the thought of the man
on the stair once more crossed his mind. He'd been unable to
identify the half-hidden features, but it left him with a feeling
of unease.
He pushed aside the covers and, leaving the bed, stepped
quietly to the door, seeing the handle move noiselessly. Immediately he reached for his breeches, which lay on a hard
chair by the hearth, and, pulling them on as best he could, he
sprung wide the door. The hallway appeared empty, only shad ows inhabiting the poorly lit corridor. Hearing a door close in
the darkness, he reasoned that it must have been a like visitor
who, in the ill light, had mistaken his door for his own. Trying
the latch but finding a resistance there, his fellow guest must
have realized that he mistook the door and in so doing had
found his own.
Berating himself for having allowed his imagination to overrule reason, he once more returned to his bed, extinguishing
his candle and seeking repose.
It was barely dawn when a tapping on his door woke him
and Jenny quietly but insistently called his name. When he
gave a mumbled reply, her voice became more imperative in
tone.
"Let me in, Ned. Please let me in."
"What is it?" he asked, quickly leaving his bed and reaching for his breeches, cursing himself for his clumsiness as he
hastily dragged them on.
"Just let me in," she pleaded urgently, and, without thinking, he reached and turned the key in the lock.
Immediately she pushed open the door and came into the
room, closing it noiselessly behind her. She came to an abrupt
halt. Observing him in the half light, she momentarily froze,
seeing for the first time the scarring to his upper body.
He heard her sharp intake of breath and desperately tried to
pull on his shirt, but in his haste he fumbled, and it fell to the
floor. Immediately she was before him, eager to assist.
"Leave it alone," he demanded in an awful voice. "Leave
me. I don't need your help. I'm no puling infant."
"Ned, I .." she began, a catch in her voice, but he pushed
her roughly aside.
"Turn your back. I will not have your eyes on me," he commanded, desperate that she should not see his injuries.
She did as he bid, but he could see her shoulders shaking as
she gave vent to tears.
Full of remorse, he roughly pulled the shirt over his head
and forced his arm into the sleeve.
For a moment he hesitated. He regretted his actions, but it
affected him so that she should see his disfigurement. As her
distress became more apparent, he went to her, putting his
arm about her shoulders.
"Come, sweeting," he cajoled, drawing her to his side. "I do
not wish to wound you, but you must not see me like this."
She turned to him and buried her face against his chest,
clutching at the ill-used shirt.
"I was frightened..." she offered in explanation, tears still
sounding in her voice.
"Of me?" he asked sharply. "Am I so hideous?"
"Oh, no, Ned, no," she cried. "Never that. Someone came to
my door a few moments ago and tried the lock. I thought it was
you and called your name, but whoever it was laughed softlyhorribly-and left. It terrified me, and I needed you"
He held her tightly to him to comfort her, and she heard the
steady thud of his heart and felt the comforting strength of his
embrace, and her fears calmed.
"My lock was also tried in the early hours," he said, frowning. "I know not who it might be or what their intentions, but
I believe we should leave immediately. If there are thieves
abroad, we won't present them with opportunity. Remain here
while I finish dressing, and then together we will go to your
room to collect your bag. I will order the coachman to put to
immediately."
Perched on the ladder-back chair, Jenny waited while Sinclair completed his dressing. Perceiving the difficulty he had
in carrying out this task, she would have gone instantly to his
aid, but she knew he would not welcome her intervention. Indeed, she knew that any offer of assistance would only result
in rejection.
As the coach drew away from the inn, Jennifer was conscious that a certain reserve remained in the earl's manner and
was only too aware of its origins. He made no attempt at conversation. Instead, he turned slightly away from her, as if
studying the passing countryside.