by Claudy Conn
“That be none of yer business. Yer business is to serve wit’ a smile,” said the driver, who then added, “and an apology.”
The innkeeper finally opened his mouth. “That sorry we are, Miss Winthrop … didn’t realize.” He turned to his wife. “Off with ye, Stella. Tell Sue to set a nice hot brick between the sheets …”
Sassy’s cheeks had burned during the entire episode, and she noted it as another lesson learned. Now what she needed, besides the privacy of a room, a wash, and dinner, was a good cry.
After this incident she was so distressed she thought she might not be able to sleep, but she awoke early the next morning having had a deep and thoroughly excellent sleep. An hour later saw them on the road again, and Jessie, whom she now thought of as one of her very best friends, called down to her that another hour would see them at Netherby. As they drove through the rolling green hills, Sassy tried very hard not to daydream about a man with blue eyes and black silky hair. Then, all at once, she was flung to one side of the coach’s interior. She tried to brace herself as she attempted to right her position.
Sassy sighed heavily as she pushed open the carriage door and peered out. The coach was woefully tilted and resting on its right rear axle, and a wheel lay flat on the open road, depicting clearly what had occurred.
Jessie, who was already there at the door, asked anxiously, “You be all right then?”
She nodded and gave him her gloved hand, and he helped her jump to earth, where she undid her bonnet and pushed her long strands of hair out of her face. “What has happened, Jessie?”
The driver was already inspecting the wheel and its former housing before he mumbled what Sassy smiled to think were a string of oaths. Even her father had moments similar to these when he thought no one was about.
“Slovenly beggar,” Jessie said out loud finally. “Wait till I get m’hands on you, Joseph O’Rourke!” He shook his head and decided more needed saying. “Aye, it’s wring your fat neck I will—dang if I didn’t tell you that the dratted bolts looked loose to me! Lazy son of …” He stopped himself and mumbled an apology in Sassy’s direction.
“Never mind, Jessie Jarvis. I didn’t hear a word.” She fought back a sudden urge to giggle. What else was there to do but laugh? However, they were in somewhat of a pickle, she thought, and she inquired, “What now shall we do?”
“Now don’t ye fret, Miss Winthrop. I’ll go and fetch the smithy. He is not too far from here at the edge of Wetly Village. I’ll take one of the carriage horses and be back with help in no time.”
“Oh,” Sassy said, suddenly worried. That would mean she would be alone on the open road. Her experience with the rude innkeeper’s wife had left her wary.
Jessie eyed her thoughtfully, climbed up to the back of the driver’s seat, and returned with a huge pistol. He placed it into her gloved hands.
“Know how to use this?”
Sassy held it thoughtfully a moment. It brought back memories of her mother, who had been a ‘crack shot’. Her father had not liked the notion of target shooting, but that was precisely what her mother had spent hours teaching her the knack of. She had enjoyed that and so never inquired why her mother was so bent on teaching her how to shoot. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied, “I do know how to use one.”
“That’s it, Miss. I don’t like leaving you alone, but I feel better if you keep that on hand.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it at the ready,” Sassy said with an accompanying smile.
“Pluck to the backbone you are, Miss!” he said with approval as he began unhitching the horse. Within a few moments he was mounted and disappearing out of sight.
Sassy put the gun near the coach wheel and took to walking, as the carriage steps had broken during the accident and she wasn’t sure she should climb back inside the vehicle in its present position.
The sound of an approaching carriage made her tense, and she closed her eyes with the thought, Oh no, fervently hoping she would not be bothered.
She made a hurried attempt to hoist herself into the carriage but without the steps and with the carriage up in the air at such an angle, it was a feat that would only cause her to engage in antics that would make her appear ridiculous to the occupants of the carriage presently drawing near.
With a sigh of resignation she turned, leaned against the carriage wall, and awaited the inevitable.
~ Five ~
SASSY’S MAD DASH for her carriage and her subsequent attempt to mount and enter the same had not been lost to the observant Marquis of Dartmour. Nor had the fact that she was all too familiar! Time had not dwindled her image, and he could not help but stare at her.
Did he trust himself in this? Could this really be one and the same woman who had occupied his dreams and thoughts and … ?
Oh yes, he thought as they got closer. She was the woman of his dreams. What could it mean? What could he say? Nothing—anyone would think him insane.
He concentrated instead on the fact that it appeared she had reconciled herself to forgo her hasty attempt to climb into her toppled conveyance and stood resigned to their arrival. Amusement tickled him.
They were nearly thirty feet away, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the young woman he had seen in the little village of Sutton, where his dream had taken hold of him—held him still. He told himself it was his over-active libido, nothing more.
She was by far the most beautiful lovely he had ever seen in his life, and his mind had obviously taken it to the next level. It was no more than that, and he attempted to dismiss it.
He sucked in air and said to Percy, sitting beside him as he tooled his horses to a slow down and then to a stop, “Well, well, Percy, it appears we shall be delayed a bit …”
“Eh, I’d think you’d had enough fooling around last night. Good God, Justin, a pretty on each arm, and Lord knows, probably taking turns with you in bed, and here you are looking for more?” Mr. Lutterel chuckled as he shook his head.
“Ah, but you wrong me, Percy. This is a damsel in distress—or so it appears—and we are fortunate to be on hand to lend her assistance.” What were the odds, he thought as he spoke, that he would find this woman here … now, like this?
“Eh, she does seem to be a bit in the straits.” Percy frowned and added, “And alone, as well? Where is her lady’s maid?”
The marquis didn’t bother trying to answer a question he had no answer for but dropped the reins into his tiger’s hands and jumped with dexterity to the ground. He looked up at his friend. “Do you come?”
“Aye, if only to keep you in line.” Percy chuckled and followed the marquis with more speed than finesse.
* * *
Sassy was frozen in place, unable to think, unable to move. Here he was—the man of her all too real dreams, dreams she believed were brought on by magic. This was the man she’d seen in the village—he had shared the illusion with her. Oh no! Would he remember? What should she do? Act naturally. Pretend she had never seen him before—pretend to know of no such dream and certainly not with him in it. That was what she had to do.
As he made short work of the distance between the ‘damsel in distress’ and his own vehicle, Sassy could not help but take in every inch of his appearance. Faith, she thought with a shiver of anticipation as he barreled down on her. He was beyond handsome!
She took in the fact that his blue eyes glittered with keen interest and some amusement. His mouth curved in a smile that was infectious. His greatcoat was well cut, his breeches of dove knit displayed athletic thighs, and his body—his body was, in addition to being tall, muscular and athletic.
“May we be of some assistance?” he asked as he tipped his hat and allowed his gaze to travel over her slowly.
She found it difficult to speak. Speak? She found it difficult to think. Here he was—him. Somehow she said, “That is very kind, but my driver has gone for help and should be back shortly.”
“But, madam,” said the other man, to whom s
he now reluctantly turned her attention, “are you here all alone?” His tone was, she was relieved to hear, chivalrous rather than chiding.
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“Could we not drive you to your destination—leave a note for your driver?” suggested blue eyes, tall and hot, with a smile that swept over her body. She proudly put up her chin, for he looked to be a London rogue attempting to flirt with her.
“Thank you … no, that won’t be necessary.”
The second man coughed as he shot a sideways look at his friend. “If you will, ma’am, allow me to introduce ourselves to you. This …” he said, waving his gloved hand toward the other, “is the Marquis of Dartmour, and I am your humble servant, Percival Lutterel.”
The marquis bowed, a bit of a smirk on his face and such a look in his eyes that Sassy wondered if he thought she would be influenced by his status. She shook her head as though this informative bit of news was totally irrelevant but then wanted to kick him in the shins when he leaned into his friend and said, “Did you mean to impress the little bird? I think you missed the mark.”
She ignored this and said stiffly, “That is very nice, but I am afraid it does not alter the circumstances. There is nothing really that either of you can do to help, and I am sure you were on your way … somewhere, and I do not wish to detain you. Thank you so much for your thoughtful concern, but I beg you not to bother about me any longer.”
One expressive dark brow rose as the marquis answered, “Ah, but, madam, you must allow us to be the judges of what we can or cannot do. You are perhaps too young to comprehend the dangers to a beautiful woman in your, er, predicament. You are unaccompanied and should not be left on the open road without even your driver to deter strangers from accosting you.”
“Quite true,” agreed Percy with a nod of his fair head.
Sassy wanted him to leave. She needed him to leave before she found herself throwing her arms around him. She was moved by something inside to do just that. A voice in her head whispered, Kiss him, kiss him now.
“You, my lord, and your friend here, have made me all too aware of that sorry fact. However, as you may have observed, there is little I can do about it.”
She could not help but note that the marquis’s lip quivered. Dash it, she thought, he was laughing at her. Of all the outrageous nerve. Her chin went up.
Percy was taken aback; it was apparent that he’d never thought of himself as anything but a gentleman. He stuttered an apology and reiterated that a gentleman could not abandon a lady alone on the open road, and that he and the marquis had no other intention in mind.
She smiled towards Percy, whom she found she rather liked, but her attention was diverted by the marquis, who said, “Ah, but there is something we can do about this sorry situation that the young lady would not object to, is there not, Percy?”
Percy frowned. “What do you mean, Justin?”
“Why, what else? We shall stand guard over Miss …” He looked at her to fill in the gap and repeated, “Miss …?”
“Winthrop!” Sassy snapped, irritated without true cause.
“Ah, yes, Miss Winthrop. We shall make certain she is not accosted in the absence of her driver.”
“Unless Miss Winthrop takes us up on our offer to convey her to her destination, which might be the better choice.” Percy looked skyward. “There is no telling, but it might rain.”
Sassy sighed and with a wry smile offered, “The thing is, I doubt that it would appear seemly for me to arrive at Netherby Halls with two gentlemen at my side.”
“You are bound for Netherby?” The marquis seemed surprised. “May I ask in what capacity, Miss Winthrop?”
“You may, though I don’t know why I should answer.”
“Why should you not?” returned the marquis.
“Faith! If you must know, as a tutor,” Sassy answered irritably. She was agitated by her reaction to the marquis and the fact that she was fighting an inner voice that wanted her, incredibly, to throw herself into his arms. Madness.
Once again, Jessie came to the rescue. She observed him riding beside another man in a wagon. Relief flooded through her, more than she thought possible, and she waved joyfully to him before turning around to announce that her guards were free to continue their journey.
* * *
The marquis and Percy lent a hand getting the coach upright, waited long enough to be certain the smithy would be able to get the wheel back in place, and took their leave.
“Odd,” Percy remarked, screwing up his mouth as he was wont to do when presented with a puzzle.
“Indeed—but I should like to hear exactly what you think is odd,” the marquis replied, his eyes bright with a smile.
“A beauty like that—in a decent enough coach—going off to Netherby Halls. The whole thing strikes me as odd.”
“I agree. Most curious. Rather late in the year for her to be starting a post at a seminary for young ladies as well,” mused the marquis.
“That is another thing,” Percy said thoughtfully. “Ain’t Netherby a charity school?”
“In a manner of speaking it is. It is maintained by subscriptions and caters to the gentry. However, these girls are orphans whose birthright might be aristocratic, but their pockets empty.”
“How come you know so much about it?” Percy asked, sitting up curiously.
“My aunt, you know her—the one with all the pugs running about. She is forever after me to look-see whether it’s worthy of my subscription.” The marquis offered a half-truth.
“You are a dog, Justin! I see what it is now. You have made up your mind to have this Winthrop chit. I saw it on your face when you first looked at her—it was as though … why, as though …?”
“Never you mind, Percy, it is no such thing.” Justin forced a chuckle.
“Ha! Mark my word, Justin, but you are out on this one. She won’t have you. Ain’t the sort. Can always tell, you know. She is fresh as a daisy, but that didn’t dull her tongue any when she thought your behavior too brazen!”
“Aye, but I have not come to Bristol for Miss Winthrop, and I am not interested in Netherby Halls because of Miss Winthrop. And at this moment, I have no intention of spending my leisure time seducing a sharp-tongued daisy!”
~ Six ~
BY THE TIME Sassy was in the righted coach and back on her way to Netherby, the sun had dwindled and what had been a refreshing breeze had turned very cold.
The coach slowed as they approached a crossroad with a fingerpost, and all at once, Sassy got a terrible ‘feeling’. A certain trepidation clutched at her insides and shouted in her head, Danger.
Her witch’s senses were on the alert, and she rubbed her ring without thought. This was of course, nonsense, she told herself. She was going to a school for young ladies. What was there to be afraid of?
They turned down a drive lined with pine trees, and when they rounded the curve of the long, sandy drive, Sassy pressed her face to the closed window and peered through the dusky light. It was already past five o’clock and getting darker by the moment.
When they passed a pretty, winding brook and a stretch of dark, thick woods, Sassy smiled to see a rabbit scurry across the road in search of its dinner.
As the sylvan darkness receded, she was met with the view of a vast field of neatly trimmed lawn. They continued a slow pace, and Sassy opened her window, shivered against the chill, and looked past trimmed yews and hedges to the Doric-styled building ahead. The huge limestone structure dated back centuries, but the severity of its design was softened with an array of flowerbeds, hardwood trees, and evergreens.
They passed another far narrower road that led to a building she supposed to be the stables. As they slowed to a stop in the circular courtyard, Sassy surveyed her surroundings with avid interest.
The building appeared to be three stories, probably with an overhead attic, though she couldn’t be sure. The front entrance boasted four thick columns that met the roof of the low portico. Wide fla
gstone steps led to the double oak doors. Those doors were heavily trimmed with black iron. Everything about the school building and grounds looked beautifully maintained, and she tried to dissipate the unease she felt.
Her driver came to and opened her door, lending her a hand to help her down, and said with an accompanying smile, “I’ll see to your luggage, Miss.” He eyed her a moment. “There, there, you’ll do, you will. Pluck to the backbone and well able to look after these girls and yerself.”
Sassy gave him a warm smile. “Thank you so much, Jessie.” However, as she gazed at the doors, she vacillated between nervousness and outright fear. Something told her to bolt! The problem—where would she go?
She couldn’t go back to Lady Margate with Sir John in the house. Until she could figure something out, Netherby was the only solution.
She placed a half crown in Jessie’s weathered, callused hand, knowing she could ill afford to do so until the next quarter, when she would receive interest from her trust fund.
“Aw now, Miss,” he said sincerely, “no need for you to do this.”
“No need, only heartfelt. Thank you, sir, for all you have done for me on this journey.” She smiled warmly and turned back towards those front doors that worried her so very much.
He tipped his woolen cap and as he carried her luggage to the door ahead of her said lightly, “Miss Winthrop, thankee. You are big hearted, ye are. Thankee and God bless.”
Sassy smiled absently at him as she stood before the enormous set of oak doors. Something was wrong. Her insides were churning. Was it simply ‘nerves’ because she was starting a new unfamiliar life? It had to be.
She reached for the knocker, but the door was pulled away from her and opened wide.
A young girl in a simple day-gown of dove gray with a long white full apron and a mop cap covering her mass of short brown hair bobbed a quick curtsey. The freckles all over her nose and her clear, inquisitive, and smiling brown eyes immediately put an answering smile on Sassy’s face.
