Jennie Kissed Me (13 page)

I feared I would be palmed off with him, but Marndale, seeing my distress, came to my rescue. “This is your opportunity to try out that bay mare you have your eye on, Anselm,” he tempted.

“By Jove! I shouldn’t mind getting my leg over her. Have you something Rita can ride?”

“Do take my mount. Silver Star is a sweet goer,” Lady Victoria smiled demurely.

Lady Pogue appeared interested in this scheme. I already knew from earlier conversation that she was a bruising rider, and apparently horses took precedence even over pursuing Marndale. Of course, she would not take me for serious competition.

I do not think she would have been much amused by our outing, for we had an experience that would not have been to her urban taste. Marndale treated me as an old friend. I wondered that his easy banter wasn’t enough to give Victoria a disgust of me. I concluded that either flirting was her father’s customary mode with female guests, or he still hoped to con me into becoming Victoria’s companion for a whole year. I knew this would please her. All our conversation has not been recorded, but she occasionally let fall wistful hints that she would miss me.

Marndale looked surprised when I took the ribbons for the initial run down the main road. “Victoria has only driven on Willigan’s Road thus far,” I mentioned.

“Spoken like a native, Jennie,” he said. “Already you are familiar with the territory and our peculiar terms for it. Willigan’s Road is known on the map as St. George’s Road.”

“I got the name and the suggestion for using that particular road from Victoria.”

Victoria sat beside me on the front bench of the country carriage with Marndale reclining at his ease on the rear seat with a scenic view of our backs. He leaned forward to engage us in conversation, which I found somewhat distracting, although his conversation was mostly with his daughter about minor local doings. A farmer having his barns painted and such things.

When we reached the side road Victoria and I changed places. “Why don’t you sit back here with me, Jennie?” Marndale suggested.

“Victoria might need a hand. There is no saying.”

“Demmed lonesome back here,” he said with a mock sulk.

“Then you must sit up front and judge your daughter’s skill.

“No, no! That is not what I was angling for.”

I hopped down and bowed him on to the front perch. “I have always enjoyed solitude, since I had so little of it at the seminary.”

“Now that is not a subject I expected you to raise needlessly!” he laughed.

“Good gracious, I am not ashamed of it. It is only that Anselm harps on it so.”

“It is certainly not a matter for shame. A lady ought to be proud of looking after herself.”

Victoria just smiled at me. “Soon I shall be as independent as Jennie, Papa.” She listed her various charity works and her plans for the future.

“If you would give us another month, Jennie, I’d have to buy her a halo,” he smiled, but it was obvious he was delighted with the change.

“A halo is like a reputation, sir,” I replied lightly. “It must be earned.”

Victoria gave the team their head, and all her conversation was suspended while she concentrated on her driving. Marndale watched her for a mile, complimented her a few times, then turned his body at an uncomfortable angle to face me. “Do you ride, Jennie?” he asked.

“I used to. I haven’t for a long time.” No number of years was given, nor asked for.

“We must work in a ride this weekend.”

“I thought, as Victoria lent her mount to Lady Pogue, that you had no ladies’ mounts in your stable.”

“I’m sure Vickie would be happy to lend you hers. I really ought to get a lady’s mount.”

I had assumed he meant we three ought to ride and was surprised. “Do, by all means, use Silver Star, Jennie,” Victoria said at once. “You may be sure I shouldn’t mind your using her, when I lent her to Lady Pogue.”

Marndale quirked his mobile brows in a meaningful way. It said he realized the lady was no favorite with his daughter. “She is a bruising rider. You need not fear for Silver Star’s welfare,” is all he said before rattling on to some other nonsense.

There was a near accident when a large pig darted into the road not three yards in front of us. “Stop the horses!” Marndale shouted, and reached across to help Victoria, but she already had them under control. The pig—it was a black-and-white boar the size of a baby elephant—gave us an ugly snort, turned, and strutted off straight into the nearest garden, where he proceeded to root up a bed of flowers.

“Old Mrs. Weldon lives alone there, except for her sister. We’d best give them a hand with Jethro,” Marndale said, and leapt down from his perch to chase the boar. As the horses began to graze quietly by the roadside, Victoria and I joined him. My help consisted of trying to shoo the fearsome animal away from the flowers. I have no idea what Marndale’s plan was. It seemed to consist of chasing the snorting creature about from side to side, destroying every bloom in sight, while shouting at the top of his lungs and raising the beast’s temper. He had succeeded in bringing the boar to a state of hysteria.

“Playing tag with him is only making it worse!” I said.

“We need a rope,” Victoria exclaimed. Jethro turned at the sound of her voice, gave her a belligerent glare, and lowered his head to attack. She darted behind Marndale’s back and let out a scream. Jethro squealed back, two octaves higher.

“You ladies get back in the carriage,” Marndale said.

“Where is Mrs. Weldon’s vegetable garden?” I asked. As they were totally at sea in this predicament, I saw I would have to lure the animal to its pen by food. “And where is Jethro’s pen?”

“Both out behind the cottage,” Marndale replied. “Run back to the carriage, Jennie, and take Vickie with you. I’ll try to chase him back to his pen.”

I ignored his advice and ran around behind the little stucco cottage, but the garden was hardly well enough along to provide temptation. I knocked at the door and a little old lady with white hair answered. “Jethro’s got loose in your garden. Can you give me something to lure him back to his pen?”

“That wretch! I’ll lure him,” she exclaimed, and grabbed up a broom in one hand, a towel in the other. She dashed out, brandishing the broom and flapping the towel in a way to further excite the animal. I peered into the kitchen and saw a pan on the stove. It held raw potatoes and turnips in water, cut up for dinner. I felt sure she would not mind sacrificing dinner to save her garden and took the pan around to the front. Marndale had the boar cornered, and it would be difficult to say which was more frightened. The pig’s eyes were narrowed, its massive head down, and inhuman, even unporcine squeals issued from its mouth. Marndale would take one tentative step forward then two back.

“Clear out before it attacks you, Marndale,” I exclaimed. I tossed a potato on the ground a few yards away. Marndale backed off, and the boar subsided to frightened whimpers.

“Here Jethro, nice piggie,” I said, pointing to the food.

The boar stood undecided a moment, but its appetite finally won out, and it went after the potato. After that it was but a moment till I had led it by judiciously dropped bits of potato and turnip to the pen. The last potato I tossed to the very rear of the pen. Jethro trotted in after it, and Marndale closed the gate and locked it. Jethro gobbled down the food and looked to me hopefully for more.

“I’ll have that wretch butchered before the week is out,” Mrs. Weldon exclaimed, and flourished her broom futilely “Let me see what damage he’s done.”

“You shouldn’t have left his gate ajar,” Marndale told her.

“No, and my foolish sister shouldn’t be eighty years old and senile either, but she is. I’ve told her not to feed Jethro, but she likes to feel useful. She’s as much use as a toothache.” She grumbled her way around to the front, and we examined her garden.

“Most of these can be replanted. If you get them in right away, they should survive,” I said, hoping to console her.

She examined the ruined greenery with a few flowers and buds trodden into the mud. “To hell with them. I’ll plant clover, and let my Jennie keep it mowed.” I might have known her cow would be named Jennie! “Well, thank you for your help, Lord Marndale. Lucky you happened along. Not that you were much use. Who is this young lady?” she added, turning a penetrating eye on me. “She is the one who saved my bacon. Heh heh. There is a little pun for you. I’ve seen this young lady driving with Lady Victoria, have I not?”

Marndale introduced me to her. “You must be a farmer’s daughter, though you don’t look like one. Your fine city ladies would have no notion how to handle an escaped boar. They’re good for nothing but making faces in their mirrors and chasing after the gentlemen. You’re looking after little Lady Victoria, are you? Can I give you a cup of tea for your trouble?”

She never bothered waiting for answers but continued a monologue. We declined her offer to tea and returned to the carriage. “She’s a crusty old lady,” I mentioned.

“Yes,” Marndale said with an innocent eye. “She used to be the mistress of the dame school in the village. I’m surprised she needed any help.”

“She’s over seventy, Papa!” his daughter pointed out. She was unaware of any undercurrents in the conversation, and I was happy to leave her in that unenlightened state.

“Would you like to see Munson’s twins?” was Victoria’s next suggestion. Marndale’s land cut at an angle, running parallel to the road, with some of his tenants accessible by another little side road.

“I have seen them. I called to congratulate Munson the day they were born. A newborn is not a thing of beauty.”

“Oh, Papa, they’re beautiful now!” she insisted. “You must see them. They’re called Peter and Paul, after the apostles. Mrs. Munson let me watch her bathe them. She lets me hold Peter, but Paul likes Jennie better. Do come. I wish I had thought to bring something. With all our privileges, you know, we ought to think of those in need.”

“My tenants are not in need!” he objected.

“Now don’t get your tail up your back, Papa. I only meant some food while Mrs. Munson is so busy and not feeling any too stout after her lying in.”

“I don’t have a tail! Where do you pick up these vulgar expressions,” he grumbled. To her credit she did not betray Mrs. Irvine, nor did I.

“Let us go and see them,” she said. “You know you are only sulking because Jennie caught the boar, making you look no how. I told you she can do anything. I learn something new every time I go out with her. Today I learned how to handle a wild boar. I do wish she would stay longer.”

“One does not discuss a person who is present as if she were absent, Victoria,” I said in my most schoolmistressy voice to stop her praise. Really I felt quite foolish though not entirely displeased, Marndale was studying me with disconcerting frankness.

“Miss Robsjohn is an example to us all,” he said. “But I fear she will be the first to tell us that one does not argue with a lady, and she has taken the decision to go to London.”

“Couldn’t I go, too, Papa?” she asked. “I could stay with you. You could hire me a companion, and I could go on meeting Jennie at least.”

He just stood a moment, thinking. “That is something I have been considering,” he said, and we set off for Munson’s.

Mrs. Munson was now up and about her business. She welcomed us like old friends, though she still bore a little restraint in front of Marndale
.
“This is who you have come to see, I fancy,” she said, leading us to the cradle in the corner of the kitchen where the twins were lying side by side, as like as eggs on a plate.

“May I hold Peter?” Victoria asked rather shyly.

“He’d take a pet if you didn’t. You help yourself to Paul, Miss Robsjohn. Two sons! I wish I had a daughter to give me a hand with the housework, but all I am good for is sons. This makes four.” She had two older lads of six and seven who were attending the village school.

Victoria and I each took up our favorite and made those strange gurgling sounds that women make over babies. Marndale said a few words to the fond mother, but his eyes often travelled to the twins. I wondered what was in his mind. How ironic that he should have had a daughter when a son was of great importance to him and Mrs. Munson should provide her husband a steady stream of sons when she wanted a daughter. But there is no arguing with Fate.

Before we left he came forward and peered down at the boys. There was such a look of longing on his face and such tenderness as he studied them. I saw a side of him I had not seen before. “Very handsome,” he said over his shoulder to the mother. His voice was strange; not unsteady exactly, but I knew he was deeply moved.

I noticed a gold coin sitting on the table when we left. I doubted very much it had been there when we entered.

“Aren’t they beautiful, Papa?” Victoria said. “I wish I could have a baby brother.”

“But would you want the stepmother that is an integral part of the arrangement?” he asked, trying to make light of it. Some air of distraction still hung about him, though.

She gave her father a bold look. “I shouldn’t mind if you let me have some say in the choosing of her.”

“Very well then, you find yourself a stepmama, and I shall tend to the rest of it.”

“I daresay Sir John Pogue would have liked a son,” the sly girl mentioned ever-so-casually. “Lady Pogue must be unable to have children. She was married for nearly ten years and gave her husband no children at all.”

Marndale gave her a knowing look. “Pity, when you are so fond of the lady.”

“Oh, I have nothing against her as a friend, Papa. She is very pretty.”

We stopped for an ice in the village, and Victoria drove us home without incident. It was her second foray onto the main road, and she acquitted herself well. “This carriage is now officially yours, Vickie,” he said, when we reached home.

“Oh, but I wanted a green tilbury, Papa, with a white team.”

“A white team is pretentious. It is looking for attention and admiration—fitter for a lightskirt than a lady. As to the green tilbury, I have no objection to your painting this rig green, if you wish.”

No one mentioned Lady Pogue’s white team, but I knew by Victoria’s grin as she flicked the whip and led the team to the stable that she remembered it. I think it occurred to Marndale, too, as I noticed a little flush creep up his neck. As we went to the door, he glanced at me and smiled sheepishly. “I forgot,” he murmured.