The Road to Gretna (17 page)

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 gravestone, 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 discover 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.”

“The countryside is very pretty,” Penny said. “Look at the foxgloves in the hedgerow, Henrietta, and the toadflax. Is it not odd that so many flowers are named after animals?”

The next few miles were beguiled as they added to the list: coltsfoot, cowslip, ox-eye, henbane, goosegrass, and a surprising number of others. Even Henrietta proudly came up with dandelion. Then they entered the narrow streets of the village of Kirkoswald, and Mullins drew up before the Black Bull.

“We’ll only be here a moment,” said Jason. “There is too little left of the castle to be worth a visit.”

“Another castle!” Henrietta groaned. “Then why are we stopping?”

“It’s the nearest receiving office to Newkirk. My mother only sends a servant down once a week to pick up the post, so there may be some accumulated that we can take with us.”

“Once a week!” she said in dismay. “How can your mama and your sisters bear to wait a whole week? Why, there might be a, or
La Belle Assemblée
, or anything!”

“Even letters from friends,” said Penny drily, then added with a touch of anxiety, “I didn’t realize you had family at Newkirk, Jason. Will they not be shocked to receive guests without warning, and such unconventional guests at that? I’d hate to discommode Lady Kilmore, or...or to vex her.”

“Mama takes everything in her stride.” He grimaced as the familiar wave of guilt washed over him. “And my sisters are for ever begging me to bring visitors. They have a dull time of it, I’m afraid.”

Mullins knocked on the window and Jason took from him a small pile of papers.

“Three and ninepence, mlord. I put it on your account, like you said.”

“Thank you, Mullins. You recall the directions for the rest of the way? Then we’ll go straight on.” He glanced through the post. “Well, Henrietta, you are in luck: here is a new
Ackermann's.
"

“Will your mama not mind if I look at it? I had no time to look at the pictures at home before we left.”

He handed it over, and Hlenrietta eagerly turned to the fashion plates. The carriage started up the village street.

“Tell me about your sisters, Jason,” Penny requested. “How many have you, and what are their ages?”

“Megan is nineteen, the baby of the family, though she wouldn’t thank you for saying so. And Thea is twenty-four.”

“I wonder that Thea is not married,” said Henrietta, looking up from the magazine. “Twenty-four is practically on the shelf. How horrid it must be to be an old maid.”

Jason was too angry to speak. She had never taken the least interest in his family, not even going so far as to ask their names. That her first comment should be a criticism cut him to the quick, especially as he knew himself much to blame for Thea’s single state.

Penny jumped into the breach. “I daresay Miss Kilmore has had little opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen.”

Though he was grateful for her intervention, it made him feel worse than ever. “No opportunity whatsoever,” he confirmed curtly, "but that will shortly change."

He had to marry Henrietta. Mr. White had already agreed that her fortune should frank a London Season for his sisters. To let them down only because he now dreaded the thought of a lifetime of the chit's spoiled stupidity was unthinkable.

Newkirk needed her money, too. Though he had suppressed the feeling for years, striving to emulate his father’s scorn, his attachment for his lands remained strong. Edward I, Hammer of the Scots, had planted the Kilmores in this distant corner of his kingdom to guard the Eden valley against incursions from the north. After five hundred years, Jason had no desire to go down in family history as the baron who lost Newkirk.

The road was rising out of the valley now, the green hills growing steeper, with fewer trees, hedges giving way to drystone walls. Sheep with curling horns stared incuriously at the passing carriage. Here and there a farmhouse crouched in a fold of the hills, surrounded by a cultivated acre or two.