Amanda Scott (39 page)

“Can’t be helped,” he said brusquely. “The wind must be moving between fifteen and twenty miles per hour. These horses might do twelve to fourteen on a good road, but not for long, and I don’t want to change teams at Sheffield, since we didn’t bring our own groom along to leave with them. Michael would have a fit if we left his precious bays with strangers. They’ll get us well past Sheffield, however, and in any case I wouldn’t want to leave them at the George in Calver, which would be the best place for them, for they are certainly known there, but Michael might well see them there when he returns from Castleton. Did you bring any money, by the bye?”

“Only what I had at hand,” she said. “Don’t you have any?”

He grimaced. “None to speak of. Didn’t think to take any out of the subscription fund, and my own pockets are to let. Well, there’s no hope for it. If we do have to change teams somewhere and they won’t tote up the reckoning to the estate, we’ll just have to pledge something.”

“Then I hope you’ve got something to pledge,” Anne said with asperity, “for I’ve nothing but what I stand up in, which is to say my dress, my cloak, my shoes, and my hat.”

“You’ve got your ring,” he pointed out.

“If you think for one minute that I would pledge my wedding ring, sir, even to fetch Andrew home, you’d better think again. I’d leave you behind for surety before I’d pledge this ring.”

He chuckled, but fortunately they did not have to pledge anything, for long before the powerful team was spent, they had other things to worry about.

“That balloon is awfully far away now,” Anne said a half hour after they had passed through Sheffield. She had to squint to see it, although the sun looked like a big orange ball perched in a nest of gray haze and gathering, darkening clouds.

“The distance between us ain’t what I’m worried about at the moment,” Lord Ashby said grimly.

“But if we lose sight of them,” Anne said, “we’ll never catch them in time to prevent that dreadful wedding, and what Michael will say to us then doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Then, by Jove, don’t think about it,” Lord Ashby advised, urging the bays to greater speed, and having his hands full just keeping them together. “They won’t make Scotland by air today, that’s certain.”

“But how do you know?”

“Anne, use your head. You’re shading your eyes against the sun, ain’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” His meaning struck her even as she spoke. “They are drifting to the west!”

“Yes, and if I don’t miss my guess, they’ll soon be drifting” south again unless that blasted wind blows them out to sea. Those clouds to the north look like they’re moving right toward us now, however. That will teach them, by Jove.”

But Anne saw that he was looking more grim by the moment. She said, “What is it, sir? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Wind blowing before a storm can be strong and cold,” he said. “She’s managed that balloon as well as I could have done myself till now, but she’s had no experience with heavy winds, and the landscape hereabouts is unknown to her, and has far too many hills and trees to suit me. Landing safely will be more difficult than she realizes.”

Anne could see that the balloon had shifted direction again. Now it looked as if it were hovering, staying in the same place, but before long it began to look as if it were growing larger, so she knew it was coming straight toward them.

The sky was darker, and the wispy clouds overhead had grown more solid looking. She heard thunder and knew the low rumbling sound would have been louder but for the noise of horses and carriage. “The storm is building fast,” she said anxiously.

He did not answer. He was watching the balloon.

“How far away are they?” Anne asked.

“Not certain. Distance is deceiving, particularly from this angle. I think they’re between Huddersfield and Holmsfirth.”

“But that must be twenty-five miles from here!”

“Aye, and rugged country—lots of hills and odd bits of forestland. She’s got to bring it further south, to Stocksbridge, at least, before she dares to set it down.”

When they passed through Hoyland Nether, he made no mention of pausing to change horses, though the bays were clearly tired. The balloon was lower in the sky and seemed much closer, but when Anne said so, Lord Ashby shook his head.

“Still too far, and look how that basket is moving. Watch the stripes. You can see the balloon is turning on its axis. That’s a fine thing if one wants to do it, not so fine if it’s making them dizzy and she can’t keep it in position. The storm’s still hours away, but the winds ahead of it are unpredictable, and she’s bound to encounter crosswinds near the ground.”

Anne said nothing. She wished the balloon would come down. Not only did it seem to her that the danger was greatest while it remained so far above the ground, but the longer it stayed up, the more likely it was that they would not get home before dark. Michael would be worried, and would no doubt grow angrier by the moment, just as he had the last time. Perhaps she ought to have left a message, after all, she thought, a soothing one. Surely someone would tell him about the balloon if not all the details about its passengers, and he would assume that she was following it. Not, she realized with a sigh, that the assumption would console him much. That thought not being one upon which she wished to dwell, she fixed her attention firmly on the balloon.

“They’re coming down,” Lord Ashby said tensely. “South of Stocksbridge over Broomfield Moor, I think. Wish I knew the countryside better. Know it for hunting, of course, but one thinks differently when it comes to good landing places, and I don’t think she’s going to have much choice in the matter. Oh, steady on, old girl. Hold it steady now. That’s it, gently, gently. They’re throwing out ballast, trying to slow their descent. Thank God, she still has some left.”

That there would not be much ballast left aboard now Anne knew. The voyagers must have thrown out nearly all they had before the fickle wind had turned against them, keeping only what they would need to slow a normal descent. That this one would not be normal was growing more apparent by the moment.

“They must be cold,” she murmured, pulling her cloak closer around her. The wind on the ground had risen. It was by no means a harsh wind, and under other circumstances, she doubted she would have noticed it. But knowing from her own experience how even a slight crosswind could unsettle a balloon, she bit back words of fear and simply kept her eyes on the balloon.

It was at treetop level now, close enough that she could see the basket swinging beneath the balloon but still some distance from the road, and a good distance ahead of the curricle.

“They’re not drifting toward the road,” Anne said a moment later. “They’re still moving south, but not toward us.”

“They’ll come down north of Bamford, I think,” Lord Ashby said. “There’s a turning ahead. We’ll take it.”

The team was lathered now and would not be able to maintain the pace for long, but she soon saw that it did not matter, because the new road was not built for any speed above a walk. The balloon had disappeared behind a rise in the landscape, and when they topped the next hill, she saw a village nestled by a river, but the balloon was nowhere to be seen.

“Far too many trees,” Lord Ashby muttered, urging the horses to a faster pace. “Thought it would be clearer.”

Anne held on for dear life when the curricle bounced and jolted over ruts and holes in the road, praying that the wheels would not come off but saying nothing, knowing he would pay her no heed. The road smoothed a little when they drove into the village of Bamford, and he shouted at an urchin in the nearly empty street to ask if he’d seen a balloon.

“Whole village gorn ter see it,” the lad shouted back. “Me pa said it looked ter come down in Farmer Kirby’s field, he did.”

“Come on, show us,” Lord Ashby shouted. “Climb on the back, and hang on tight. How is it you ain’t with the rest, boy?”

“Me pa said he’d lick me silly did I leave afore I fed the pigs,” the lad replied, adding with a smirk, “but they’ll all look nohow when I show up in this rig, won’t they? Just on ahead, it be, past them gates.”

Emerging from a cover of trees, they saw the balloon, deflating rapidly, in the center of a large field of new corn.

“Good girl,” Lord Ashby said with a sigh of relief. “She opened the valve.”

Anne, with the end in sight and knowing now that they had stopped Andrew’s flight to Scotland, shot her companion a mischievous look and said, “I believe you care more than you will admit about Lady Hermione, sir. You’ve been worried sick that she might be injured.”

“Pooh, nonsense,” he snapped. “I was worried that she might rip that bag to shreds through her damned carelessness. As it is, the damned wench has lost all my inflammable air.”

“But, surely, even though the balloon will have to be refilled, you will be glad to find her safe and well, won’t you?” Anne persisted.

“Aye, I will that,” he agreed grimly, “because when I do, I mean to strangle her!”

T
HEY SAW THE ERSTWHILE
aeronauts in the center of an excited cluster of about twenty villagers. Without checking the bays, Lord Ashby drove the curricle as near to the group as he could.

Lady Hermione saw them first and strode to meet them, as awestruck villagers stepped hastily aside to make way for her.

“A female,” one man said in a voice that carried easily to the occupants of the curricle. “Did ye see that, lads? ’Twere a female a-guiding that balloon! I swear, I never saw the like.”

Anne realized that Lady Hermione had made a sensation with her audience, but one look at Lord Ashby was enough to tell her that he was not at all amused. “Please, my lord,” she said in an anxious undertone, “don’t create a scene here.”

“Me,” he exclaimed in a tone of outrage. “I am not the one who has created a dashed scene, Anne. Just look at her. Scarce a hair out of place, though she must have been tumbled about on that landing, and as pleased as Punch, she is, by all the attention she’s getting. By Jove, I’d like a few private minutes with her, that I would. Hermione! Here, I say, Hermione, you come here, woman, and hear what I have to say to you.”

“Don’t get your whiskers in a bristle, Ashby,” she called, pausing to shake hands with a villager who had stepped into her path. “I’m coming straightaway.”

Anne said, “If you’d like to get down to speak with her privately, sir, I can hold the team for you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said, shooting her a speculative look. “They’re prime bits of blood, you know. A little tired, but I daresay if we don’t push them, they will get us home again. Michael won’t be pleased if we leave them here, that’s certain. Hope Douglas and Haydon can find us. It may be that I’ll have to go look for them, you know, though what with the wagon being so much slower and all, they might well have seen where the bag was bound to come down before ever they reached Sheffield. Damnation, now look at that woman,” he added testily. “Thinks she’s a May queen, receiving her subjects. Here, I’ve got to deal with that.” Thrusting the reins into Anne’s hands without further ado, he jumped to the ground.

She had no trouble holding the team, for the horses were tired, but she did begin to feel like an exhibit at a fair. The villagers had observed the curricle’s arrival and were gazing as curiously at her as they had gazed at the balloon, if not with the great amazement they had accorded to Lady Hermione.

Having detached herself from her admirers, Lady Hermione was speaking with Lord Ashby, but their exchange did not take long. His lordship soon turned on his heel and plunged into the crowd, the speed and length of his stride indicating that his temper was still ruffled. Lady Hermione walked at her usual pace to the curricle and looked up at Anne with a rueful smile.

“I suppose you are ready to murder me, too,” she said.

“Where is Andrew, ma’am? Was anyone injured? We were persuaded that you were coming down much too fast.”

“The wind dropped just as we neared the ground, and I thought we would make a perfect landing, but then the grappling hook caught on a tree and tripped us up. The Flowers woman twisted her ankle rather badly when the basket tipped, and lost her balance, and now, that young rascal insists he’s going to stay right with her to see that she’s well cared for. Myself, I’d like to box her ears—his, too, for that matter—for a worse coil than this I can’t imagine. Poor Ashby is beside himself, and no wonder. He wouldn’t even listen to me when I tried to explain why we took his precious balloon.”

“Why did you?” Anne asked, adding quickly, “You had better come up here to talk to me, you know, for I’m quite sure those people would like nothing better than to hear what you will say.”

Lady Hermione climbed obediently into the curricle, talking as she did. “They’re no longer interested in me, now that Ashby has gone to tend to his expensive bits of silk and wicker. They are interested only in that. Lord, but I’m glad to be safe on the ground again! It was a near thing, I can tell you, and lucky we were to find this field when we did.” She settled herself, but when Anne did not respond, Lady Hermione looked directly at her and said, “I expect you still want to know what I was about.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, it’s simple enough. I talked them into taking Ashby’s balloon, though I did not tell him that, of course. Not yet. He did all the talking. Didn’t give me a chance to say a word, and I’ll wager he will have a good many more things to get off his mind before I get a chance to explain my actions to him.”

“Forgive me, ma’am, if I say you are making no sense whatsoever,” Anne said bluntly. “Did you say that
you
were the one who actually decided to take the balloon?”

“Certainly, I was. And you see how well it answered the purpose. I tell you, I began to think I could not count on the wind at all, for we kept going straight on toward the Highlands, as if we were on a string being pulled by some brawny Scotsman. Just when one counted on the wind being capricious, too.”

“You didn’t mean to go to Scotland then.”

“No, of course not. Do you take me for a ninnyhammer? I’d have thought that you, at least, would have had more sense. But I’ll begin at the beginning, shall I? If I don’t, I daresay you will never understand. I met them in the village, you see.”