The Road to Gretna (19 page)

As they turned to leave her, she said anxiously, “Penny, pray see that Lily is taken out, somewhere where the dogs cannot frighten her.”

“Of course.” Penny took the basket, followed Megan out of the room, and closed the door.

Megan exploded. “She cares more for her dratted kitten than for anyone’s feelings. Whatever does Jason see in her?”

“She is pretty and appealing, and she can be very sweet and generous. Remember that she is far from home, in a place and situation quite foreign to her. Try to see her as a tired, bewildered child.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Bryant. I forgot that she is your friend. And she will very soon be Jason’s wife—I will learn to love her.”

“I hope so.” For Jason’s sake, Penny added silently. She couldn’t bear to think of him tied to a woman disliked by his entire family, especially as he was lucky enough to have such a kind, welcoming family. How she envied Henrietta!

“You must be tired, too.” Megan was anxious to make amends for her outburst. “This is to be your chamber, directly opposite Miss White’s.”

The door stood open and two mob-capped maids were making up the bed. “Gi’ us ten minutes, Miss Megan,” said one.

“Fifteen,” corrected the other.

Withdrawing, Megan apologized. “We were not expecting you and Dr. Knox. Would you like to lie down in my room?”

Penny had a feeling that if she were left alone at that moment she would burst into tears. “No,” she said, “thank you, but I should like to go down and take tea with her ladyship and Miss Kilmore, and then I should like to walk a little in your garden. If it will not he inconvenient?”

“Of course not.” Megan beamed. “I shall show you my flowers, and then Thea will wish you to admire her kitchen garden. You will think me shockingly inquisitive,” she went on, leading the way down the stairs, “but I do hope you mean to tell us how you and Dr. Knox came to be travelling with Jason!”

They returned to the drawing-room to find Angus drinking tea with Lady Kilmore and her elder daughter. He appeared to feel quite at home. Jason had disappeared, taking both the dogs with him.

“The bailiff took him off for a consultation, Miss Bryant,” her ladyship explained. “Poor Bodger sees him so rarely, he seizes every opportunity. Dr. Knox is kindly explaining to me one or two matters concerning the health of our tenants.”

The young ladies left them to their medical discussion and retreated with their tea to a window-seat. Penny amused the Misses Kilmore with her description of the disaster which led to the two eloping parties joining forces. She was relieved when they politely didn’t press her for details of her romance with Angus.

Tea finished, the three of them took Lily out to the garden. Penny admired the purple clematis and tall pink hollyhocks growing against the walls of the house. The roses, in their bed neatly edged with white alyssum and blue lobelia, she deemed spectacular.

“They don’t grow half so well in London,” she said enviously. “I daresay the air is too full of smoke.”

By the time she had been shown round the walled vegetable and fruit garden, on the other side of the east wing, they were all on Christian-name terms. It was difficult to be formal with juice running down their chins from the plums growing on the espaliered trees on the south-facing wall.

“My hands are sticky,” said Penny, laughing. “How am I to carry Lily indoors?”

“Allow me, Miss Bryant.” Jason had arrived unnoticed, with Angus close behind. His formality struck Penny with a shock. Shifting aside the wood lid of a rainwater butt, he dipped his handkerchief, took her hand in his, and began to wipe it clean.

Peculiar sensations raced up her arm to swirl through her body in a galaxy of sparks. For a moment she was aware of nothing but his touch. His hands were suddenly still. Looking up, she met his eyes and read there longing and desolation.

“’Twould ha’ been easier tae carry the kitten yourself, Kilmore,” Angus pointed out.

Hurriedly Penny withdrew her hand and took the handkerchief.

“Thank you, my lord.” She finished the job herself. “I daresay you will not mind lending it to Thea and Megan?” Passing the handkerchief to Thea, she moved to Angus’s side and laid her hand on his arm.

“Is it not a beautiful place, Angus?”

“Aye, when the sun is shining. Her ladyship sent us to remind you that dinner will be served at six.”

“Is it so late?” exclaimed Megan.

“Five o’clock,” her brother informed her. “You forget that a Town lady requires time to prepare an elegant toilette."

“I do not,” said Penny indignantly, glad to hear the teasing note in his voice. “But it’s true that Henrietta does, and I must help her.”

“Oh, no,” Thea said in her quiet way, “Meg and I shall help you both.”

Meg agreed, and they all returned to the house. The sisters hurried off to their chambers, promising to return in no more than a quarter of an hour. Penny went straight to Henrietta’s room.

Childishly slight in her shift and bare feet, she was just drawing back the window curtains.

“Moors!” Shivering, she swung around. “Penny, it’s those horrid bare moors again. I cannot abide to see the moors.”

“Then you had best exchange rooms with me. Mine faces in the opposite direction."

“Oh, may I? But all my clothes!” She gestured helplessly at the pile of bags which stood by the dresser.

At that moment a maid came in with hot water. It wouldn’t be no trouble at all, she assured them, to carry miss’s stuff across the passage. And she weren’t no abigail, but she’d be happy to unpack for miss.

They crossed to the other room. The girl was obviously bursting with curiosity about his lordship’s bride, so Penny left Henrietta to spin her a romantic tale and returned with her one bag to the chamber that looked out onto the high hills.

She had just finished washing and was contemplating with dismay the creases in her green gown, when Meg came in.

“Oh, I thought.... You switched rooms?”

“Yes; this one faces east and Henrietta is always woken by the rising sun,” Penny improvised rapidly.

Megan looked sceptical. “I see. What a beautiful dress!” She stroked the moss-green sarcenet. Her own gown was of pale pink muslin sprigged with rose. The colour suited her, but it was ill-cut and the cheap material had lost its shape with washing. “We make all our own clothes, and I fear not one of us is a good needlewoman."

Suddenly Penny was angry with Jason. His clothes, though slightly the worse for wear, were of the best cloth, elegantly cut, stylish, and fitting to perfection. Whatever his present pecuniary difficulties, he had led the idle life of a Town Beau while his family languished in the wilds of Cumberland. It was his fault that Thea was twenty-four and unmarried. It would be his fault if pretty, lively Megan, too, dwindled into an old maid.

If she had known yesterday, this morning even, she would have challenged him. Now, somehow, it seemed impossible.

“I’ll have Jennie press it for you,” Megan was saying.

“Oh, could she do my brown dress, too? I have nothing else to wear tomorrow.”

“Of course.” She went to the door and called the maid, handed her the dresses, and came back to plump down on the bed. “You only brought two gowns? Miss White has a great stack of luggage.”

Penny reminded her that she had left home by climbing out of the window. “Henrietta’s departure was far more respectable.” She hesitated. “What has Jas—Lord Kilmore told you about his elopement?”

“We know he has Mr. White’s approval, of course. Mama would never countenance such a thing otherwise. We were expecting them to come here tomorrow, straight from Gretna Green, and Mr. White is to arrive the day after. I daresay Jason will wait for him now, and they will go to Gretna together.”

“Oh no, I cannot wait! Jason knows I cannot wait. Even here I don’t feel safe.”

“Safe?”

Before Penny could decide what to tell her sympathetic listener, the door opened and Thea came in, wearing a wilted blue silk evening gown. She looked almost as distraught as Penny felt.

“I cannot arrange Miss White’s hair as she would like it. She has to have ringlets. Meg and I have always worn our hair braided, Penny, like you.”

“Leave it to me.” Penny took the hairbrush from Thea’s trembling hand and marched across the hallway, forgetting she was in her chemise. She closed the door firmly behind her.

Seated at the dressing-table, Henrietta was regarding her image in the mirror with a petulant pout. “She has positively flattened my ringlets, Penny. How could she be so clumsy? I wish I had not let Cora stay behind.”

Penny had more than half a mind to apply the hairbrush to the girl’s rear end. “Miss Kilmore is not an abigail,” she pointed out, not troubling to hide her anger. “She is the daughter of a baron, and soon to be your sister. And even if she were not, I wonder that you could be so unkind. What will Jason think of you?”

“Oh, pray do not tell Jason!” Henrietta’s lips quivered. “I did not mean to be unkind, indeed I did not. I was only thinking that I want to look my best tonight for his family.”

Blinking in bewilderment, Penny pointed out, “But Thea is his family.”

“Yes, and the daughter of a baron. Penny, you will not let her tell Jason, will you? You know I cannot bear to offend anyone. I did not mean to. I must tell her I am very sorry.” She jumped up and rushed out of the room.

Penny followed more slowly. She knew Henrietta was sincere; she was also thoughtless and utterly, unutterably hen-witted.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Her golden ringlets restored to order by Penny’s efficient fingers, her spirits restored by Thea’s quiet assurance that she was not irremediably offended, Henrietta waltzed back to her chamber with Megan to help her.

Sighing, Penny sat down at the dressing-table. “I don’t really need your aid, Thea, if you have better things to do. I am accustomed to taking care of myself.”

Thea flinched. “I am not generally so ham-fisted.”

“I never thought it for a minute! But truly, I need no help. Will you stay and talk to me?” As she spoke, she unpinned her braids and teased forward a few curls around her face before rearranging them in a softer fashion for the evening.

“How beautiful your hair is!’

“Carroty. I always wanted dark hair, like yours.” Penny swung round and locked consideringly at Thea’s severely practical style under her plain muslin spinster’s cap. “If I were going to be here longer, I’d cut yours just like mine with a few curls at the front. Meg’s ought to be in short curls all over, though. I wish.... Oh, never mind. Tell me how you spend your time here.”

“Meg and I both enjoy gardening, as you saw. We do have a man to do the heavy work,” she added defensively. “We sew, and walk, and read a great deal. A subscription to the lending library in Carlisle is one of our few extravagances.”

“Call it rather a necessity. Without books, life would not be worth living. Do you ride on the moors?”

“We used to. We had ponies when we were children, but of course we grew out of them, and Papa said riding horses cost too much to keep, though he.... I beg your pardon, I do not mean to bore you with our troubles.”

Penny was intrigued by the reference to the late Baron Kilmore, the first time she had heard him mentioned. She would have liked to probe further, but at that moment the maid came in with her evening gown.

“I washed t’brown un, miss,” she said. “It’ll be dry by morning, never fear. This’n’s right pretty.”

With a smile, Penny thanked her and slipped into the dress. Standing before the pier-glass, blurred where the silvering had deteriorated, she fastened the buttons on the bodice and tied the ribbon beneath her breasts.

Thea was standing behind her, slightly to one side. Even the shapeless blue silk could not hide her slender, fine-boned figure, thought Penny enviously. She smoothed the green sarcenet over her own generous hips. Cousin Bartholomew’s words rang in her ears: “a strapping great wench.” Her height wouldn’t be so deplorable if she were slimmer, but even a diet of biscuits and vinegar, such as Lord Byron was said to have favoured, could never conquer her solidly built physique.

“How I should like just one pretty dress,” murmured Thea to herself.

Though Penny said nothing, she determined to speak privately to Henrietta, whose generosity would make nothing of giving her new sisters-in-law a dress apiece. Perhaps such a gift would go some way towards reconciling Megan and Thea to their brother’s choice.

She was ready to go down. “I’d better just make sure Henrietta hasn’t driven your sister into hysterics,” she said as they stepped into the passage.

“Meg is not so easily overset,” Thea assured her.

In fact, Henrietta was chattering happily about fashion, though she looked, up and said accusingly, “Penny, I can see the castle ruins from this window. I daresay I shall have nightmares."

Megan shrugged, raising her eyebrows in Jason’s quizzical quirk as Penny hastily withdrew.

* * * *

Jason stood at the drawing-room window, gazing out at the roses glowing in the westering sun. Behind him his mother and Angus Knox were talking. Occasional phrases reached him.

Apparently Lady Kilmore considered herself responsible for the health and welfare of not only Newkirk’s inhabitants but those of several nearby farms and hamlets. He hadn’t realized. How little he knew! Money alone would not suffice to bring his estate into order; first he must learn. The task seemed overwhelming.

Hearing the door open, he glanced round as Thea entered the room. Penny followed. His movement let a sunbeam stream over his shoulder to shine on her and, blinking against the sudden light, she paused just inside the door. In the drab room, she glowed like the roses outside, like a richly shimmering copper-coloured rose. An ache of yearning seized him, to breathe in the sweet scent of her.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, harshly quelling the ache, but he could not stop himself moving towards her. Her words broke the spell—deliberately?

“Henrietta will be down soon.” Her smile was uncertain. “We left her in Megan’s capable hands.”

Angus’s voice intruded. “Penelope, her ladyship has a patient with symptoms not unlike those of your aunt. Will you give her the benefit of your observations?”