by Carola Dunn
The sting of the iodine took Henrietta by surprise. Her mouth opened and the beginning of a squeal escaped before Jason clapped his hand across it.
"Another scream and we'll be thrown out of the place! Hold still, Henrietta. It's not half so painful as when Lily inflicted the scratches in the first place, and you were amazingly brave then. Are you finished, Knox? Then come, my dear, sit by the fire and drink your tea."
To all appearances, thought Penny later as she undressed, if Jason had been falling out of love, he had jumped back in again. She tried to be glad. He would be happier married to a woman he loved, and Henrietta was young enough to learn to overcome her spoiled petulance, if not her hen-wittedness. She had behaved very sweetly over Lily's misfortune, she was generous, and even now she was on her knees by her bed praying that her dear Papa was not too horridly distressed by her disappearance.
Besides, in all decency Jason had to marry her after eloping with her, with or without her father's assistance. And Penny herself was equally committed to marrying Angus. As she slipped into bed she recited to herself all his good qualities.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Despite Mullins's storm warning, the next day dawned fine. Beyond Bowes, the Roman road continued uphill, straight as an arrow. Penny, sitting on the right side of the carriage today, looked out at rough, sheep-cropped grass sloping up to rougher moorland, a patchwork of green bracken, purple heather, and vividly yellow gorse. Here and there outcrops of grey rock broke through. The colours faded into the distance, where the huge, dark bulk of Mickle Fell surged to meet the mass of storm clouds which had blown over during the night.
Despite her low spirits, Penny's heart lightened. The wild freedom of the moors called to some part of her which had been cramped by city streets, hedged in even by green fields.
It would be hard to go back to live in London. She wondered whether Jason had a country estate, and if so, where. Wherever it was, Henrietta wouldn't be willing to spend much time there, far from shops and amusements.
Angus glanced out at the black horizon. “'Tis doubtless raining on the Border,” he announced in a voice of doom.
At that moment the carriage passed a large patch of gorse on the opposite side. The sweet, coconutty fragrance wafted in through the open windows and Henrietta exclaimed in delight.
"I would like to pick some of those yellow flowers. Jason, pray tell Mullins to stop so that I can pick some."
"I wager you won't care for the experience if you do,” he said drily. “Most of that charming greenery is not leaves but spines, to protect the bushes against nibbling sheep."
"How horrid!"
Silence fell. None of the four travellers was talkative that morning. As the road carried them up and ever up, they all gazed out of the windows at the treeless hills, alone with their thoughts.
Henrietta broke the silence. She sounded uneasy. “Jason, I do not care for this place. It is not at all pretty and there are not even any villages here. We have not even passed another carriage this age."
"The moors often seem harsh and bleak to those unaccustomed to their wildness,” he soothed her. “In truth, few people live so high in the hills. The land is poor, and the winters can be cruel. But there is beauty in the very wildness, if you will try to appreciate it on its own terms."
"It's not picturesque, Henrietta,” Penny put in eagerly, “but it's magnificent. Look at the unconfined hills, the great sweep of sky. You could ride forever."
"I think it is horrid. It frightens me. There is nothing there! You would get lost if you went riding, and I don't like to ride anyway."
"I do.” Penny decided it was time to change the subject, as Jason was once again wearing his forbidding look. “I learnt to ride at school, but I have had very little chance to practise since. I should have to start out again on a placid, elderly nag."
Angus looked as if he was about to say that a London doctor's wife would have little occasion for riding, but Henrietta spoke first.
"I have the prettiest riding habit, only I have never worn it.” She prattled on about scarlet cloth, black braid, and a shako-style hat. That reminded her of another favourite hat, which had to be described, along with the pelisse that went with it.
Distracted from the stark scenery outside the windows, she was quite surprised when Jason mentioned that the road was now winding down out of the hills.
"We shall soon be in the midst of green fields again,” he said sardonically, “so you may rest easy, Henrietta. And our next stop, Brough, has another ruined castle for you, Miss Penny, built, like Bowes, on top of a Roman fort. It was rebuilt in the seventeenth century by Lady Anne Clifford, though it is once more falling into ruins. She also rebuilt Brougham and Appleby Castles, which you'll see today, and others."
Penny wanted to know more about Lady Anne Clifford. By the time the subject was exhausted, the ruins of Brough Castle were visible ahead. They stopped briefly at the Golden Fleece, just to change horses, as the next stage to Appleby was short.
Far from being pleased by the return to a gentler countryside, Henrietta looked both worried and perplexed.
"Why are there so many castles, Jason?” she asked. “Every little village has a castle. I am sure there are not so many near London."
"You're quite right, my dear. The north bristles with them, like a gorse bush with prickles, to protect against the attacks of the Scots."
Henrietta threw such a terrified glance at Angus that Penny reached for her hand.
"There's no need to be in a quake,” she said, frowning at Jason. “The Scots haven't invaded England in seventy years."
"Aye, ‘tis doctors and engineers Scotland sends south now,” Angus confirmed, “not border raiders nor fiery clansmen."
"Indeed, the Highland regiments were among the bravest fighting Napoleon,” Penny went on. “We are on the same side now, you see."
"Which is just as well,” said Jason, “since most of the castles are in ruins."
Their concerted efforts failed to convince Henrietta that she was safe, though she did look upon Angus with a more kindly eye. Fortunately the carriage just then rolled over a bridge and Penny managed to distract her by exclaiming over a family of ducks on the stream below.
Listening with half an ear, Jason watched the two girls chatting about the possibility of keeping ducks as pets. Pets being Henrietta's second favourite subject, after clothes, her pretty face was happy and animated. He wondered whether a menagerie of kittens, ducks, and lambs would keep her happy after they were married.
Married! What the devil had made him decide to marry for money? By tonight Henrietta would be his wife, to do with as he pleased; the money he needed so badly would be his, to do with as he pleased. She was a pretty chit, and a rich one, with an undeniable kittenish charm. Yet all he really wanted was to take Penny in his arms, to loose her cloak of coppery hair, to kiss her sweet lips and...
He tore his gaze from the gentle curve of her bosom and looked out of the window. It wasn't just her body he wanted. He wanted her for her sense of the ridiculous; for her lively interest in the world, especially in history; for her calm, practical good sense, her kindness, her cheerfulness, and her flashes of rebellion. Yes, most of all he loved her for her longing for independence in a world where independence was beyond women's reach, the longing that made her defy her uncle and chafe against Angus's authority.
Even if she were a thief—and he believed it no more than he believed that she was a wanton—he needed her. That one copper Penny, even if she were penniless, was enough to compensate for the thousands of golden sovereigns he would willingly relinquish if he could find an honourable way to avoid marrying Henrietta. But there was no honourable way; he was pledged to Henrietta, and Penny was pledged to Dr. Angus Knox.
The subject of ducks being exhausted, Penny turned to Jason.
"We shall soon reach Appleby, shall we not? Tell me about it."
Between the ancient grammar school, Lady Anne Clifford, and the Norse gravest
one, he managed to avoid the temptation to dwell upon the Scots laying waste the town in 1388. It would be neither fair nor gentlemanly to play upon Henrietta's fears when she had no choice now but to marry him.
Instead he talked about how Lady Anne had transformed the old castle into a pleasant mansion. Henrietta thought that a splendid notion.
When they drove into Appleby, the bridge over the Eden proved picturesque enough to suit her taste.
"And there is some grass by the river that Lily will like. The river is calm enough for Lily to be safe, is it not, Penny? Not like that horrid rushing stream at Greta Bridge."
Penny agreed, so Mullins was instructed to drive on to the Crown and Cushion, harness a new team, and return to pick them all up.
Penny cast a longing glance at the historic town, and at the wall surrounding the castle at the top of the hill, but in any case there was no time to explore. Besides, the kitten had forgotten her chastening experience of the evening before. It took vigilance on the part of all four to keep her out of the river.
Jason wondered what his London cronies would think if they could see him now, he who was accustomed to cutting an elegant figure in the ballrooms and clubs of the capital. They would laugh at him—yet he could not quite laugh at himself. To be sure, four adults guarding a tiny kitten made a ludicrous sight, but the useless, unprofitable life of a Town Beau was in its way equally ludicrous. It had grown stale and tedious in the end. Had he had the money to support his position, he'd have taken his seat in the House of Lords long since.
Henrietta expected to return to Town, to the fashionable ballrooms from which her birth had previously excluded her. She was not going to be pleased when she discovered that he had no intention of frittering away the rest of his life dancing attendance upon her.
At that moment, the gold-trimmed maroon coach Mr. White considered a fitting vehicle for his beloved daughter's elopement pulled up by the bridge. Jason bundled Lily into her basket as Angus handed the ladies into the carriage.
"We'll stop for lunch in Penrith,” he said, joining them. “Then it's only a little over thirty miles to Gretna Green."
The news that they were nearing their goal did not noticeably cheer any of his companions.
Yet another Roman road carried them northwards along the Eden valley. A light rain began to fall, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. Penny, in particular, seemed downcast. Jason undertook to drive away her blue devils with a history of Penrith, regardless of the fact that it consisted mostly of Scottish raids.
"There's a high hill north of the town,” he said, “where for centuries beacon fires were lit to warn of marauding Scots. It was last used in 1805, when Napoleon was expected to invade. I've heard that Walter Scott saw the beacon and rushed home to Scotland."
"I know who Walter Scott is!” said Henrietta, too pleased with herself to worry about invaders. “He writes books."
He was about to quiz her about becoming a bluestocking when he caught Penny's eye. Judging by her minatory look, she guessed what was in his mind. He grinned at her.
"You're quite right, Henrietta,” he said instead. “Of course, had Napoleon indeed landed, and reached so far north, the castle ruins would scarcely have presented a barrier to him."
"Another ruined castle!” Henrietta moaned. “I cannot bear another ruined castle."
"I shall not take you to see it,” Jason promised, “but I regret to say that we'll be eating our luncheon at the Gloucester Arms, where Richard III once resided."
Since Henrietta knew less than nothing about Richard's bloody reputation, this news failed to disturb her. She even expressed an interest in seeing the Giant's Grave and Giant's Thumb in the churchyard, but Lily, as always, was uppermost in her mind.
"Will anyone mind if I take her into the churchyard? I daresay there is some grass, and she will not do any harm. May I take her there, Jason, if it stops raining?"
He was so surprised to be asked for permission that he failed to answer. It was left to Penny to assure Henrietta that the wrath of the church was unlikely to fall on one small white kitten.
They drove past the red stone ruins of Brougham Castle, but fortunately Henrietta didn't notice it. Soon afterwards they reached the little town of Penrith, just as the sun broke through the pall of clouds. Turning left into the Cornmarket the carriage rumbled over the cobbles, passed the Board and Elbow Tavern and stopped at the Gloucester Arms, a large white building picked out in black paint.
Looking up at the arms of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, on the inn sign, Penny recalled how he had had his nephews killed in the Tower of London. She shivered. Richard III had murdered for control of a kingdom. Her own wicked uncle wanted control of her inheritance. Was he prepared to murder for it?
Surely not! She tried to dismiss the extravagant flight of fancy, but she could not help glancing nervously round the market-place as she descended from the carriage. Uncle Vaughn must be close behind them by now. The sense of urgency which had begun to fade as they approached the end of the journey returned in full force.
"Let us take Lily to see the Giant's Thumb at once,” said Henrietta.
"Oh no, it will take too long,” Penny protested. “It's only an hour since she was out in Appleby."
"Jason, I want to go now!"
He took her hand. “After luncheon will be better, my dear. We have a long stage ahead of us,” he added to Penny. “The church is close by and the stones, ancient and curious as they are, can be viewed in a few minutes."
She nodded, then clasped Angus's arm as he stepped out of the carriage. He was her only sure refuge.
The landlord assured his lordship that a private parlour stood ready for unexpected guests and a neat luncheon could be provided in a very few minutes. Soon they were seated around a table laden with cold and hot dishes.
Shuddering, Penny rejected a sizzling Cumberland sausage and turned her eyes with loathing from a currant pie the waiter proudly announced to be Cumberland cake. With little appetite, she was helping herself from a dish of green beans and tiny new potatoes swimming in butter when a heavy hand knocked at the parlour door.
The waiter hurried to answer it, his expression boding ill for whoever dared to interrupt his lordship's meal. Penny froze, serving spoon in hand, holding her breath, her gaze fixed in painful anxiety on the door. It opened to reveal the brawny figure of Mullins.
Penny breathed again and with a shaky hand deposited the spoonful of vegetables on her plate.
"M'lord,” said the coachman, “I thought you'd want to know right off. Them hostlers is saying as there's floods yonder, just past Carlisle seemingly. The road to Longtown and Scotland's under a foot o’ water."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"I told you ‘twas raining on the Border country,” Angus said with gloomy satisfaction. “We might as well go on to Carlisle, I daresay, Kilmore, and wait there until the road is passable."
"No!” Penny cried. “We cannot wait. I cannot wait. There must be another way."
"Seems as the next bridge over the Esk is Canonbie, m'lord,” said Mullins stolidly. “There's nowt but country lanes to get there as'll likely be flooded too, the country thereabouts being flat as a flounder. ‘Sides which, ‘tis a matter o’ thirty-forty mile extry—if so be we don't lose the way."
"But he's bound to catch us if we stay in Carlisle!"
A single glance at Penny's desperate face made up Jason's mind. “We'll go to Newkirk."
"Newkirk?” Angus and Penny asked. Henrietta merely looked blank.
"My home. It's not twenty miles from here, and in the right direction. Your uncle will never think to seek you there, Penny. You will be quite safe."
"I shall like to see your home, Jason,” said Henrietta, beaming.
Penny looked pleadingly at Angus. He shrugged his shoulders. “We canna reach Gretna before tomorrow, at the airliest, my dear. ‘Tis best we accept Kilmore's hospitality."
"Oh yes, pray let us accept."
Jason was gratified to di
scover that he had misinterpreted her wishes. Like the doctor, he had expected her to want to attempt the perilous drive to Gretna, but it seemed she had actually been hoping that Angus would agree to go to Newkirk.
He smiled at her. “We shall throw the wicked uncle right off the scent,” he promised. “Mullins, make sure everyone here knows we are going on to Carlisle."
"Aye, m'lord.” Grinning, the coachman withdrew.
The waiter Jason had dismissed on hearing Mullins's news came back into the parlour. Penny had recovered her appetite and even ate with relish a piece of Cumberland sausage.
Jason was intrigued by the odd hints she had dropped about her cousin's passion for local delicacies. He wondered whether, and how, it tied in with her fear of her uncle, but for all his frequent disregard of propriety, it wasn't the sort of question he could ask her. He would probably never know the answer, he thought regretfully.
He hoped Angus was really capable of defending her.
They paid a brief visit to St. Andrew's churchyard to inspect the rough-hewn pillars and hog-back tombstones supposed to be the grave of a tenth-century king of Cumbria. Henrietta was not impressed, and she was downright disappointed by the Giant's Thumb, another pillar surmounted by a broken-wheel cross.
"A shocking take-in,” she pronounced it. “It is not even shaped like a thumb."
Since Lily was somnolent after devouring more than her share of the Cumberland sausages, they were soon on their way again.
Penny relaxed visibly as the town and the turnpike road fell behind them. They drove down into the Eden valley, along narrow lanes between green fields and woods, passing through an occasional village of red sandstone cottages. At Lazonby they crossed the Eden. After the recent storm, the wide stream was turbulent, its rushing waters reddish-brown with silt. Henrietta kept a firm clasp on Lily's basket.
"Are we nearly there, Jason?” she asked. “You said your home is quite near."
"Near compared with the length of our journey. Another eight or ten miles."
