Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind

by Heidi Ashworth

  Sir Anthony considered his options. They could stay the night at the inn-and risk having the likes of Seb and Dobbs as bedmates. Or, he could have the nags pulled from their stall and pressed into service. Hacking their way into Bedford seemed preferable to spending another moment at the Swan and Flute. They would have to leave Nan behind, but he could give the coachman charge of her.

  He retraced his steps to the inn to inform Ginny of his decision when he was approached by Tubbins.

  “Heard you was having a mite o’ trouble, sir.”

  Sir Anthony doubted he had heard any such thing. “Do you have an alternative solution for me?”

  “Gots of Bess and Bobby out in the stall. They’s job horses, but they oughta get ye as far as Bedford” With a nod Tubbins indicated a decrepit, tumbledown shack behind the stables. “That’s wheres I keeps the churchgoing carriage. You’re welcome to hitch ‘er up if you can spare someone to see it back, safe and sound”

  “That is a very agreeable solution, Tubbins. Now, if you will see to matters here, I will inform Miss Delacourt that we are finally ready to depart.” Sir Anthony returned to the inn and collected his things from the parlor, Ginny and Nan from upstairs, and his coachman from the taproom, where he was drinking his pay. It really wasn’t like the gruff coachman. If he had stayed with the carriage, perhaps they would not be forced to resume their journey in Tubbins’ conveyance. At least Tubbins had indicated it was his best, used only for church.

  Sir Anthony waited in the yard for the carriage while the coachman assisted Ginny with Nan. Before long, Bess and Bobby, the nervous nags he had spied in the stable, appeared around the corner of the building. Hitched to them was a small, open carriage of indeterminate years.

  Sir Anthony considered the little landaulet with a censorious eye. It looked too frail to carry the combined girth of the Tubbinses down the road, let alone to church. He realized he should have known at once the barkeep was lying through his jagged teeth. Tubbins and church went together like fire and water.

  He turned to his coachman. “It looks as if you will have to sleep it off here. I shall be fortunate to find room for our luggage, and that’s only if Miss Delacourt consents to sitting up on the perch with me. Would you have any objection to that, Miss Delacourt?”

  “No, I am accustomed to handling the reins, even. I think the seat is large enough that we can stretch Nan out quite comfortably.”

  Sir Anthony, with the coachman’s help, laid Nan, feverish and lethargic, on the backseat. Ginny rushed to make her more comfortable, folding a cloak beneath Nan’s head and placing a hatbox beneath her feet.

  When she had finished, Sir Anthony handed Ginny to her place on the high-perched bench. “I hope you shall not mind. It will be later than we thought when we arrive.”

  Ginny turned her face to the sun, the wind riffling through her hair. “It won’t be dark for another few hours. Thank goodness it is May.” She tied tighter the ribbons of her chip-straw bonnet against the breeze. “Then again, we wouldn’t be off to smell the roses if it weren’t spring, would we?”

  Sir Anthony sat next to her and took up the reins. “No, I don’t suppose we would” If someone had asked the same question just that morning, he wouldn’t have thought such a thing possible at any time of the year. Now, seated next to Ginny, with the sun on her lips and the brim of her bonnet throwing a cool shadow over her lively eyes, it seemed most natural. Even desirable.

  They were halfway to their final destination when Sir Anthony was forced to bring the landaulet to a creaking halt. In the middle of the road stood two masked highwaymen, one short, one tall, with pistols at the ready. Behind them was a carriage remarkably like Grandmama’s.

  “Put up your ‘ands and toss out your valuables,” the tall one demanded.

  “Make that toss out your valuables and then put up your ‘ands,” corrected the short one. “And ifs I see the flash o’ metal, I’ll shoot”

  Sir Anthony noticed that Ginny did immediately as she was told.

  “Have I permission to withdraw my watch?” he said. “It is metal and could be mistaken for a pistol.” He wasn’t willing to take any chances with the idiot Seb, as it surely must be.

  “All right. And all your money too. But no guns, you hear?”

  “A trusting soul, is he not, Miss Delacourt?” Sir Anthony drawled.

  “Yes, indeed. Now, please hurry and do as he asks. My arms are getting tired.”

  “That is a fine thing to say when you have nothing of any value on your person. I suppose you think it is my duty to give what I have to these poor unfortunates”

  “Pray, Sir Anthony, what will they do to us if you do not?” Ginny replied in a strained voice.

  Realizing she must truly be frightened, Sir Anthony threw his money purse, ring, quizzing glass, and fob onto the road along with his watch. He wished he hadn’t been so punctilious about retrieving it from Grandmama. “You may rest easy, Miss Delacourt. It is only those two idiots from the inn.”

  “Dobbs and Seb?” Ginny gasped, dropping her arms. “How is it that they have Grandaunt Regina’s carriage? And why are they holding us up?”

  “I understand it is the way such men earn their living,” Sir Anthony replied, biting back a sharper retort. “They must have stolen our carriage from the inn.”

  “Why, how ungrateful of them! And after I gave them each some money!”

  “You did what?” Sir Anthony felt an unaccustomed tide of emotion threatening to sweep away all his carefully crafted nonchalance.

  “Well, they wouldn’t have been in our parlor if they weren’t hungry. If they had money, they wouldn’t have to steal. When I went upstairs, they were waiting outside Nan’s door, and so very sorry for disturbing me earlier that I gave them each a coin.”

  Sir Anthony stared at the two scrambling in the dust over his things. “You have money, Miss Delacourt?” he drawled.

  “Yes, a little, but it’s mine.” She drew one of her hands to her lap and clutched a fold of her skirt.

  “You will take that money you have secreted in your gown and give it to Dobbs and Seb”

  “Ya,” Dobbs said, who appeared to have heard their conversation. “Give it over, priddy lady. We knows yous gots it.”

  A flash of anguish skittered across Ginny’s delicate features. “Perhaps it is partially my fault. But don’t lay this all in my dish. You are the one who is turned out fine as a new penny.” She took the money out of a pocket concealed in the folds of her gown and threw it into the road.

  Sir Anthony saw that Dobbs was quick about scooping it up and hustling Seb into Grandmama’s carriage. With a savage flick of the reins that made Sir Anthony wince for the sake of the horses, the two catapulted down the road. A cloud of dust rose up behind them.

  Sir Anthony lashed the reins against poor Bess and Bobby, who flew into action.

  “What are you doing?” Ginny cried, her hair windwhipped and her bonnet askew.

  “I am going after them. I have a trick or two of my own, I’ll have you know. If only these two could just go-“

  A sickening crunch robbed Sir Anthony of words. The landaulet tilted forward with a harsh thud, and he felt the reins ripped from his hands. With a final lurch, the carriage tipped forward, spilling its contents into the road.

  There was a moment of intense silence followed by the sound of settling dust. Ginny struggled to a sitting position and checked her arms and legs. They moved as they should, but her hip ached a little. There would be a bruise there before the day was over.

  “Are you all right, Miss Delacourt?” Sir Anthony, his face spattered with mud, was kneeling in the road attempting to brush dirt from his silver-threaded waistcoat. A long streak of mud smeared his trousers, and he would never be able to wear that expensive jacket again. He looked up and dust cascaded into his eyes.

  Ginny held back a giggle. “Yes, I think I am.”

  “You look a little worse for your fall,” he said, giving her the once-over.

&
nbsp; “I do!” She glanced down at her skirt. Drat! It was her favorite outfit, emerald green with a sage overdress, and now it was ruined. She scrubbed at the mud with her handkerchief. “Well! Weren’t they bold as brass? Imagine, being held up in broad daylight.” She had heard of such happenings in the dark of night, but never to anyone she knew. And certainly not to her.

  “No doubt it is most common in these parts.” Sir Anthony stood, his face twisted with pain.

  Ginny repressed an impulse to run to him. “Are you hurt?”

  “It is only my ankle. I gave it quite a turn.” Sir Anthony took a tentative step. “It’s not too bad. I don’t think we can say the same for the landaulet, however.” He limped over to the tumbled carriage and examined it. “Just as I thought. The axle has been cut almost clear through, and the traces have been tampered with.” He unhitched the frightened horses from the badly tilting carriage.

  Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. “You mean we were meant to crash? Seb and Dobbs waited for us?”

  Sir Anthony nodded, his expression grim.

  “Well ,” Ginny said, brightening, “at least we have the horses” She gave Bobby a cheerful slap on the rump, who snorted, reared, and came down within inches of Bess. Frightened, she took off down the road. Bobby followed, kicking up a colossal cloud of dust.

  “Don’t go!” Ginny cried. She turned to Sir Anthony. He was bound to be angry with her. She hesitated to meet his eyes. “I hadn’t meant to send them off.”

  He pressed his lips together. “You led me to understand, Miss Delacourt, that you have had some experience with horses.”

  “Oh, I have, indeed, I have. These were very skittish, I think. I only meant to give her a pat of encouragement” It wasn’t her fault the horse misunderstood. “There is a difference between that and a slap of dismissal,” she added, braving it out.

  “Her? It’s a wonder no one thought to educate Bobby,” Sir Anthony said, with a humiliating lack of emphasis on the word Bobby.

  Ginny felt her cheeks turn to flame. “What does it matter if I can’t tell which is male and which is female? I can handle the reins, and I can make them go and make them stop. That is, most of the time.”

  “I trust you are a better hand at gardening than at horsemanship, Miss Delacourt? Otherwise, our trip out here is sadly unnecessary”

  Outraged, Ginny forgot to avoid his gaze. She was surprised to see how his eyes danced with amusement. “I refuse to answer that question,” she replied. He might throw her answer back in her face at some later date. In the politest way possible, of course.

  “There, there, Miss Delacourt, I shan’t quiz you anymore. Quite a sacrifice, I must say, as your cheeks turn the loveliest shade of rose when I do”

  Ginny felt her cheeks betray her with another rush of color. She gasped and clapped her hands to her face to hide her shame.

  Just then, a moan came from the back of the landaulet.

  “Oh, poor Nan!” Ginny cried. She picked up her skirts and moved briskly to the little carriage. How could she have forgotten the abigail for even a moment? And what was she to do for her now? They should have left her at the inn while they brought a doctor back.

  A vision of the taproom at the Swan and Flute rose into her mind. Ginny shuddered. Perhaps Nan was better off lying in a broken-down carriage in the middle of a dusty road with no place to go and no way to get there, accompanied by two people who had no money and less wits between them. She felt her stern resolve to stay cheerful desert her. “Sir Anthony, what are we to do?”

  “I suppose I shall have to go for help and try to find someone who can take us up” He gazed down the long length of the road, the setting sun shining in his eyes.

  “You can’t mean to walk to Bedford! Not before sunset. Not on that ankle.” Ginny could hear the panic in her voice. It wasn’t only his ankle she was worried about. Seb and Dobbs were long gone, but there could be more of their ilk just down the road.

  Sir Anthony looked a shade worried as well. “You stay here with Nan and tidy things up a bit. I’m going to walk down to the next crossroads and try to find a passing carriage.” He retrieved his hat from where it was wedged beneath the seat and placed it on his head.

  Ginny wanted to tell him how beyond hope the hat had become, all crumpled and misshapen. And that hole! On the other hand, the mud on his face and that limp were so fascinating, she rather doubted anyone would notice.

  “Well, I’ll be off then,” he said, walking over to where she stood. “Don’t speak to strangers and try to stay out of the way of any more thieves.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We haven’t anything left to give them, after all.”

  “We would have if you hadn’t made me give them the money I had hidden in my gown.”

  Sir Anthony moved closer. “Ah, now, Miss Delacourt, you know that to be faulty reasoning. Those two knew exactly where to look, did they not? You might thank me for saving you the indignity of having them go after it themselves.”

  Ginny willed the rising tide of color from her cheeks. Must she always blush like a schoolgirl? “I wasn’t afraid of them,” she said coolly, despite the warmth caused by his nearness. In truth, she had feared Sir Anthony might have been the one to remove the money from her gown. As abhorrent as it would be to have Seb and Dobbs paw through her skirts, the thought of Sir Anthony doing so terrified her. Madly, her cheeks continued to burn.

  “I don’t think I’m wrong to suppose your charity only goes so far?” Sir Anthony was asking. He cocked one odious eyebrow at her.

  “It is money that only goes so far, Sir Anthony,” Ginny replied. Only, she didn’t think it was money to which he was referring. “Ah, it is charity that never faileth, I believe,” she said.

  One corner of his mouth lifted just a fraction. “Let us hope we find someone possessed of a goodly amount of that before it gets much later.”

  Ginny felt a spasm of guilt. The whole of this wretched affair was her own fault. “Do you think someone will be along soon?”

  “Be brave.” Sir Anthony put a finger under her chin and tilted it up. “We shall come about all right. Some one must pass by soon. Someone respectable, that is.” He dropped his hand to his side. “Remember what I said, watch out for yourself and stay out of trouble.” He shook a finger at her and limped down the road.

  Ginny watched him march away from her and tried to believe what he had said. She hoped he wasn’t simply trying to be polite.

  Sir Anthony’s thoughts at that moment were anything but polite. In fact, they were positively rude. What else could one expect of a perfectly good specimen of masculinity, usually most attractive and always expensively dressed, now reduced to walking down the King’s Highway? In tatters. Begging for a ride.

  If he were lucky enough to get picked up, it would most likely be for the purpose of transporting him to Newgate, he looked so disreputable. That’s all the thanks he’d get after the trouble he had gone to for that chit. Most likely she would be gone when he finally dragged his broken body back to where he had left her. She had the least common sense he had ever encountered in a young woman.

  He supposed the fault for that could be placed in her father’s dish, raising her to be so naive and trusting. And Grandmama! She hadn’t helped any in the years Ginny had lived with her. If only she hadn’t cut short Ginny’s very first season! Any number of fellows might have offered for her by now, and she would be some other poor sot’s problem. Devil take her eyes!

  They were extraordinarily fine eyes, he had to admit. Gray, with just a touch of green to them. Like a stone statue overrun by a creeping moss. But not dead-looking, never that. These eyes were alive; they sparkled with wit, flashed in great gleams of anger, danced and capered in the sunlight.

  What was wrong with him? He was turning into a cursed poet, making odes to eyes and the like. Sir Anthony turned his thoughts to the road and the sound of his uneven pacing along the dank earth. The sun was setting and it was growing dark. He began to worry a
bout Ginny, alone, in the shadows, with only Nan for protection. The thought was appalling. His ankle pained him and, in the dark, it would take him longer then he had already been gone to get back. He must return soon.

  And then what? They could carry Nan back to the Swan and Flute. He could just imagine their arrival, wild-eyed, filthy, their clothes in tatters, sagging with fatigue. Between them would be the fevered Nan, looking half dead. That ought to clear the place in a hurry. If they were lucky. Otherwise, it would be a long night with no sleep, watching guard.

  That is, if Ginny was still there. Anything could have happened to her by now. He should not have left her. Having reached the crossroads, he was about to turn back, but hark? What was that? The jingle of a harness, perhaps? Sir Anthony strained to determine which direction the sound had come from. If his ears did not deceive him, a one-horse conveyance should approach the crossroads in a matter of moments.

  Ah! There it was, a pony-drawn cart driven by a round-faced man. In his profound relief, the pony looked the veriest high-stepper; the cart, sturdy and spacious; and its driver, an honest fellow dressed in the first stare of fashion.

  “Hail, sir.” Sir Anthony waved his linen handkerchief, no longer white, over his head.

  The driver pulled on the reins, bringing the cart to a halt inches short of Sir Anthony’s injured ankle. Unfortunately, the back wheel rolled across the toe of his other foot. It hurt like the devil, but no matter. He had transportation. Once he was on that cart and down the road, someone could amputate both feet and he would be glad of it.

  “Needin’ a lift?” the young man inquired. His glance flicked from Sir Anthony’s dusty hair to the mud on his trousers, the hole in his hat, and then lingered on the pocket of his waistcoat where his watch should have been. “Can you pay?”