Chapter Five
Jack shivered and hunched his shoulders as icy water dripped down the back of his neck from the trees arching over the road.
With six or seven miles still to go, the journey to Ivywood Hall was proving unpleasant, but thankfully so far, it had been uneventful.
No sign of the attacker and no other highwaymen or person foolish enough to be abroad on such a night had thus far appeared to confront them.
Rain drizzled on and off as the well-sprung coach plowed through potholes overflowing with muddy water.
While Jack rode behind the coach, he considered his plans.
It seemed that he would not be needed for more than a day at most, as Lady Butterstone’s brother was expected to arrive soon.
He might be here before nightfall. Whatever lay behind the attack on Lord Butterstone, it was none of Jack’s business, and he was eager to hand it over to the family and get back on the road.
Jack didn’t want to become enmeshed in their grief.
He was escaping London to contend with his own.
They finally entered the elaborate gates of the Hall.
Ahead of Jack, the carriage lamps faded with the first signs of dawn, the clouds and mist clearing, giving way to the muted pinks and oranges lighting the sky as the sun rose.
They traveled along a road as straight as an arrow, surrounded by acres of lawns and fine trees.
Highlighted against the sky stood a tall, elongated shape: Ivywood Hall.
The Hall revealed itself as they approached, pale stone tinged with warm color by the rising sun, perfectly symmetrical, immense, and grand, and not unlike Stamford, his father’s ducal seat.
They were expected. Braziers burned along the front, and candlelight still flickered in the long windows.
From beneath the towering portico, a short, darkly clad figure appeared to greet them. The butler.
The coach pulled up on the carriage circle before the house.
With a pat on Arion’s neck, Jack dismounted.
Bone-weary, he imagined the occupants of the coach were no better.
A fair-haired footman yawning behind a hand joined the butler and came forward to put down the steps. He offered his arm to the ladies.
Lady Althea descended first, dressed in a fur-trimmed pelisse and hat. “Thank you for seeing us safely home, Captain Ryder,” she said, her reddened eyes betraying her grief. “My mother and I felt a little easier knowing you were there.”
Fighting weariness and concerned for the ladies, Jack removed his hat. Bowed. “You’re welcome, my lady.”
While the footman aided her mother, Lady Althea addressed the butler. “We bear the most dreadful news, Billings. I shall explain inside.”
Billings watched the despairing Lady Butterstone leave the empty coach. “I expected you home hours ago, my lady,” he said. “The trunks, the maids and his lordship’s valet have arrived.” He cast an anxious glance at Jack.
“This gentleman is Captain Ryder,” Lady Althea said. “He kindly escorted us home. The captain needs food and a bed. Would you see to it?”
“Yes, milady.” Beside the youthful, broad-shouldered footman, Billings looked aged and somewhat confused as he gazed up at Jack. “Sir, the stablehand will see to your horse.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to do it.”
“Certainly, Captain.” Billings assisted his teary-eyed mistress into the house to learn the worst.
Lady Althea’s finely boned face was pinched with strain and sorrow.
After watching her follow her mother and Billings into the house, stiff-backed and determined, Jack smoothed his hair and replaced his hat.
He walked Arion along the gravel drive toward the stables.
His thoughts turned to breakfast, with the hope of eggs and bacon and a pile of toast, kippers, maybe, plus good, strong coffee.
Something to set him up for the road ahead.
An hour or two’s sleep beforehand would be welcome.
The crunch of a vehicle’s wheels on the gravel carriageway awakened Jack.
It was well past noon; the sun was low on the horizon, sinking into the west. Raised voices brought him to the window of the plush bedroom in the guest wing that had been assigned to him.
A coach stood before the house while footmen and grooms scurried around.
Jack dressed quickly and went into the corridor. Below him, in the marble-tiled entry hall, a group of people gathered around Lady Althea. He remained where he stood, a hand on the balustrade, not wishing to intrude if it was Lady Butterstone’s brother who’d arrived.
Lady Althea raised her head and saw him. She beckoned for him to join them. One glance at her anguished face and he hurried down the stairs.
You must not get caught up in these people’s troubles, he urged himself.
This plan to travel had been in his mind for months, since his father had first become ill.
But he already felt himself being drawn in and knowing what a soft spot he had for a damsel in distress, especially one as beautiful as Lady Althea, he needed to get a strong grip.
*
In the stables, Harry stroked the sleek neck of Erina’s bay, Jessie. “Nice-looking mare.” He turned to observe her. “Now, why are we meeting in the malodorous stables?”
“I like the smell of hay and horses.” In the feeble light cast by the lantern, she couldn’t read his expression. But it didn’t matter. She’d made up her mind. “I wanted to tell you what I’ve decided. Thought I should, although I don’t really owe you anything.”
He folded his arms. “I am agog with excitement. What scheme do you have in store for us?”
“Not ‘us.’ Me.”
“Oh?”
“I plan to travel across the country, riding Jessie.”
Harry stared at her. “You are jesting, of course.”
She huffed. “No, I’m not. I’ve considered it most carefully. I am an excellent rider. I shall dress as a man.”
“Of all the mad schemes!” He gave her a mock bow. “Congratulations. I’m difficult to shock, but you have achieved it.”
“Then I shall go by stagecoach.” She hesitated. “But I’m rather short of money.” She hadn’t expected him to be pleased, but his forceful objection surprised her. “I am of age. And it really doesn’t concern you. You can go home with a clear conscience, knowing you did your best to stop me.”
Harry raked his fingers through his thick, fair hair, spoiling its careful arrangement. “So, I’m to go happily home, with the knowledge that you will be ravished and murdered in a day or so? Is that your opinion of me?”
“I think you’re a very nice man,” she said coolly. “But apart from our fathers’ putting their heads together, you have nothing to do with my life or what I choose to do with it.”
Harry folded his arms and leaned back against the stable door. “May I ask your destination? Just as a matter of interest?”
“Ireland.”
“Jack’s on his way there.” He tilted his head to the side. “What’s the attraction of Ireland?”
“My mother’s family lives just outside Dublin.”
“How long had it been since you’ve seen them?”
She turned away to stroke Jessie’s smooth head thrust over the top of the stable door. “I’ve never met them.”
He slapped his thigh. “Ho!”
“What does ‘ho’ mean, precisely?” she asked, turning toward him.
“That my suspicions are proved correct. This is a madcap scheme, Erina. And you know it.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t see why.”
“You should write to them. Perhaps someone will come to England to visit you.”
“I don’t have time to,” she snapped. “And you know that full well.”
“I see.” Harry moved away from the door. “If you stay, you will be forced into marriage. With me. The very worst thing that could happen to a lady.”
Erina raised her hand. “Harry, that’s not true. I like you; I do. But I don’t love you.” She frowned. “And you don’t love me.”
“Please don’t tell me what I feel or don’t feel.” He stalked the length of the stables and back. “Before I leave here tomorrow, will you promise you will not go off on this dangerous expedition? We can discuss it again when we meet in London.”
“We have only a matter of days. And once I’m in London without my horse, I’ll be stuck.”
She stepped closer to coax him onside and placed her hand on his claret silk waistcoat. Beneath it, his chest felt muscular and strong. Somehow, she’d never thought of him in that way. Hastily, she withdrew her hand. “Will you help me?”
“‘Help’ you? Good Lord, Erina, what are you asking of me?”
“To defy your father and mine, Harry.”
“Contrary to what you obviously believe, I am no longer ruled by my father. But he has his heart set on this union. I am fond of him and hate to disappoint him. He has wanted me to settle down for some time. Says he might turn up his toes without seeing his first grandchild.” Harry paused.
“If we just give it time, I’m sure he’ll relent…
” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Help you to do what, exactly?”
She grasped her hands together. “Come with me. At least see me onto the boat at Holyhead. I’ll manage from there.”
“Apart from everything else, you truly believe I would ride all the way to Holyhead?” he spluttered. “I’d rather travel on the back of a hay wagon.”
She eyed him carefully. Might he be relenting?
It would be so much easier if he took her there.
She’d decided riding would cause difficulties, and the stagecoach would be horrid.
“You must own a vehicle of some kind. Or can’t you hire one?
It won’t raise eyebrows if we’re two men traveling together. ”
“Ha! You think you’d make a convincing man?”
“I’ll cut my hair.”
“You wouldn’t look like a man if you shaved your head and dressed in a subaltern’s uniform.”
“Why? I’m tall enough.”
“Your…” He waved a vague hand, his gaze flitting over her. “Figure.”
Erina looked down at her bosom. She had been cursed with a rather large one. “I shall use binding. Honestly, you are merely throwing excuses in my way. Women dressed as men in Shakespeare’s works. In Twelfth Night, it worked perfectly well for Viola.”
He sighed. “That was a play. This is real life.”
“Very well, don’t come with me. Remain here to please your father. I shall go alone.”
“No, you won’t, damn it.” He threw up his hands. “It so happens that I own a curricle. But I insist you dress normally. You can be my sister.”
She tried to hide her glee. “We don’t look alike.”
“Cousin, then.” He attacked his hair again, which this time flopped neatly back into place. “My God, what am I agreeing to?”
“Too late to renege,” she said silkily. “You’ve given your word. I intend to send a letter to my father somewhere along the route. To set his mind at rest.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “How thoughtful.”
She reddened and looked away.
“You know what will occur to them, don’t you?” he said.
“What?”
“An elopement.”
Pleased, she nodded. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
His brown eyes narrowed slightly as they studied hers. “Is it?”
“They won’t worry. Father will think I’ve done it to save him the expense of a wedding.”
“But what happens when you return home, having traveled unchaperoned?”
“Father will be cross with me at first. But he will be pleased to have me home safe, and I shall agree to anything he proposes for my future. And as men can avoid marriage far more easily than women, you can persuade your father to give up the idea.”
“That’s assuming you arrive home safe.” He gazed at her disbelievingly. “I can see you’re determined, whatever I say.”
She firmed her lips. “I am.”
He tapped a booted foot and sighed. “All right. We’ll leave from London on Thursday. I’ll contact you on Wednesday to make the final arrangements.”
Erina’s heart banged joyfully. “Oh good. This is exciting, isn’t it, Harry?”
Harry scowled. “I said you’d exhaust me if we married. How right was I? And we’re not even man and wife. I don’t know about you, Lady Erina, but I’m going to bed.”
Erina watched him stomp away into the darkness. Then she squealed and performed a few steps of an Irish reel while Jessie watched her with soft, brown eyes. She must write to Cathleen once it was all arranged. Her last adventure before a life that promised little but banality.