Chapter 11
Eleven
The carriage pulled up to the front door of The Willows late Tuesday afternoon exactly to Michael’s schedule.
Jane regretted not stopping at Kellmore, but her sisters convinced her that safety was for the best and as Alex pointed out, thrice darned stockings had no place in a duchess’s wardrobe.
There was little room left in the trunks and the few items she wanted could be packed and sent to Redbridge later.
Since maintaining a level of secrecy was necessary, and it would be impossible to stop rumors from Kellmore as they must drive through the village, Jane agreed.
Though she regretted not being able to confide in her friend Isabel about her nuptials.
Grandfather met them at the door and directed them into the parlor where Rose waited.
“How did you get here so soon?” asked Alex, hugging the youngest sister.
“Grandfather sent for me. He told the school there was an emergency. You have no idea how happy I was to arrive and find that no one had passed away. I look dreadful in black. Still, he refuses to tell me what is wrong, and now all of you are here.” Rose finished passing around her hugs between sentences.
“Do you have any idea at all?” asked Phil.
“Only that we are to travel again in the morning.” Rose tapped her chin. “La! I only arrived last night!”
“Think of us, sweetling, we left Bath yesterday morning and have spent one night at an inn already. We only get one night in The Willows’s excellent beds while you have two and only a day of travel so far.” Alex rubbed her back.
“Not to worry. Grandfather ordered a bath to be drawn for you as soon as your coach appeared. Is Mrs. Green with you?” Rose looked about as if she expected Alex’s maid to be in the parlor.
“She insisted on traveling with me, so she could watch over me. I am sure she is down in the kitchen ordering everyone about.” Alex patted the spot on the sofa next to her. “If you sit for a moment, we will tell you the surprise.”
“Is George coming too?” asked Rose.
Jane closed her eyes. How she wished her twin here, but by the time the letter she wrote reaches George in Massachusetts, Jane would be an old married woman.
“No, George is not coming back to England; she loves Johnathan and Baby Hannah too much to leave America. It would take nearly four months for word to reach her and to arrange to come and make the sail.”
“One can hope.” Rose looked at each sister. “So out with it. La! Can you not see I am dying of anticipation.”
From his chair in the corner, Grandfather chuckled.
Alex and Phil turned to Jane.
Jane gathered a breath. “I am to be married this Saturday. We are traveling to my wedding.”
“What? With that bruise on your face?”
“Rose!” Scolded Alex and Phil in unison.
Jane touched her face. “I am praying it fades.”
“I know just the powders to mix. Mary, who shares my room, has the worst blemishes.” Rose continued on, completely unaware of the insult she had left floating about the room.
Alex took Rose’s hand. “I am shocked that your first reaction was to point out Jane’s bruise. If that is what they are teaching you at that school, perhaps we should find you another.”
Rose looked at her hands. “I am sorry Jane, I just noticed the huge mark when you first came in and the thought that I could help just came out. La! I should have said congratulations and asked who you are marrying. But if Grandfather will let me go to the apothecary, I know I can mix a powder, and the groom will never notice.”
“Rose.” Phil’s voice was low and too calm.
Rose squirmed. “I’m sorry, Jane.”
“As for Jane’s bruise,” Alex turned Rose’s face to meet hers as she had when Rose was little. “Mrs. Green has been using one of her excellent salves on the bruise each night, and she has already concocted a powder that matches Jane’s skin perfectly should she have need on Saturday.”
Jane needed to say something to end the gentle scolding. “Rose, I am happy that you wished to use your talent to help me. That was very kind.”
“Oh, look, tea. Can I pour? I have been practicing.” Rose looked at each of her exhausted sisters, who nodded in turn.
Mrs. Green slipped into the room and motioned for Alex. Her bath was ready. Jane hoped she could stay awake long enough to take one of her own. Though Phil looked as if she could use one too.
Rose handed Jane her cup. “Who are you marrying? No one said.”
“Finish pouring, and I will tell you.”
When Rose was properly situated and had a firm but delicate hold on her cup and saucer, Jane answered with words she had practiced in her mind yet never said out loud. “I am to wed His Grace Richard Thomas Kenworth, the eighth Duke of Aylton.”
Rose yelped and dropped her teacup.
Phil laughed the tired laugh of one who needed sleep. Grandfather joined her.
The maid who brought in the tea was still in the room and cleaned up after Rose, who was not scalded, faster than Rose could form words.
“You are serious? You are marrying the Duke of Aylton? The sternest man in all of England? In every drawing of him in the society pages he is always glowering. He visited once when I was at Phil’s and I hid for fright of him.
Though everyone agrees he is devastatingly handsome.
La! How can that even be? The Duchess only died a month ago.
I know because her cousin is a year ahead of me and is still all in black though she doesn’t need to be as they are only second cousins and they have only ever talked once.
I think she is more upset that she cannot say she is related to the Duchess of Aylton now that she is dead.
” Rose paused for a breath. “Wait! I will be related to the Duchess of Aylton. The Duke will be my brother, just like a viscount is! Oh, oh, oh! I will have the highest ranked connections in the entire school. La! The girls will laugh.”
Jane joined Phil in tired laughter. Count on Rose to put her wedding into as ridiculous of terms as possible.
The next two days would be a delight with Rose in the carriage.
Best of all, Phil would not dare try to refer to beds, nightgowns, or kissing in front of Rose.
Jane had her fill of those conversations.
While the thought of kissing was more interesting, Phil had not entirely dissuaded Jane of the notion that sleeping under a spell for the more part of the year was not a better plan.
Agreeing to take Lightwood to his wedding was among the most spectacularly stupid ideas Richard had ever had.
While he had planned for several easy days’ ride for his bride’s sake, Richard and his party had no such luxury.
He sent all he could on ahead with his mother, who should be at Redbridge by now.
Richard, Michael, and Lightwood were attempting to travel as fast as the mail coaches.
Something they could have avoided if Lightwood had been more forthcoming about his debts.
Creditors coming forward nearly all of Monday caused delay and enormous headaches.
If any of the dukedom’s properties had a dungeon Richard would have incarcerated Lightwood already.
Yet another bump jarred the coach.
Michael pulled out his notebook.
“What are you making note of now?” Lightwood’s surly voice grated on Richard’s ear.
“I was making a note to plan four days for our return trip to London. Philippa should not be jostled. I had hoped to make the journey in fewer, as Lawrence misses her so, but I think that unwise.” Michael stopped short of giving a reason.
If Richard’s suspicions were correct, Philippa would need an easier ride, and he would have another little cousin to dote on come next spring.
“You need to make a note to remember not to ride at this pace? I feel as if I am at sea without any grog,” Lightwood grumbled from the corner of the carriage.
Four days without drink had not been kind to the man.
All day he complained of a headache and at the last stop to change horses, cast up his accounts.
The physician Richard consulted said that many men attempting to sober themselves suffered such for a few days.
Another two days or so would reveal an improvement.
If Lightwood was to speak to Jane, he would do so sober.
Michael offered, with a small amount of hinting and persuasion, to walk Jane down the aisle of the church, so she would not have to choose her father.
Another bump.
Lightwood groaned. “How inhuman are you to not allow a man a drink on such a drive as this?”
Richard ignored the comment, as he had done dozens of times.
Yesterday, he attempted conversation, however Lightwood was woefully ignorant on politics, and in the past fortnight he and Michael had all but exhausted the subject and every other that two men traveling together could.
Richard would not risk mentioning Jane lest Lightwood spew more of his vile thoughts and Richard lose the little control that kept him from breaking the man’s nose.
Outside, the gray skies decided to let their heavy burden go in large rain drops. The carriage slowed. Even good roads like this one could become treacherous quickly as visibility lowered and rain-slicked roads changed sure-footed horses.
“You need to slow the carnage, er, carriage.” Lightwood paled as he peered out the window, his eyes wide. Sweat bloomed on his forehead.
“My coachman has—”
“Slower. We will crash!” Lightwood lunged for the door.
Michael grabbed his father-in-law before Richard could. “Stop!”
“We are going to crash.” Lightwood struggled. “Stop the carriage!”
Richard joined Michael in restraining the man. “The only danger we are in is if you interfere with the ride. Sit down, man.”
The horses slowed to a stop. Richard recognized the yard of a coaching inn he usually avoided. They were not due to change horses yet. Perhaps something else was amiss.
Lightwood struggled to get out. Richard and Michael let him go and followed him out.
The coachman hopped down. “You asked to stop, Your Grace?”
“No, Lightwood became agitated and tried to dive out of the carriage as we drove. We will leave as soon as I can get him back inside. I prefer not to stay here.”
“I remember, Your Grace.”
Richard found Michael with Lightwood in the taproom. Michael was informing the proprietor that Lightwood was not to be served. “Lightwood. What is the meaning of this?”
“The rain. I cannot travel in the rain.”
“If one could not travel in the rain in England, then one is likely never to get out of their house, particularly in a year as rainy as this one,” said Michael.
Lightwood looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment. The most peculiar behavior. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that for the first time in years something other than drink circulated through the man’s veins.
Michael put his arm around the man. “Look, the rain has nearly stopped. We can go on now. You do not want to miss Jane’s wedding, do you?”
An impossibility, considering it could not proceed until Richard arrived.
“We will not miss it.” Lightwood’s chin quivered slightly.
“Indeed, come then,” coaxed Michael.
Lightwood paused at the door to the inn. “I cannot.”
He attempted to push back, but with Richard and Michael behind him, there was no place to go.
Richard wondered if binding and gagging the man would be permissible. “Lightwood, I do not care for myself if you come to the wedding. You, however, insisted that you see your daughter. So you will either get into that coach, or I will leave you here to make your own way.”
“You would do that to a man, would you?” A hint of fear entered Lightwood’s eyes.
“I will if necessary. I, for one, have no intention of being late to my own wedding.” Richard sidestepped around the man.
Michael took only a second to join him in crossing the yard to the coach in the now misting rain.
They did not look back as they entered the coach and the door shut.
The carriage jostled slightly as the coachmen took their seats.
“Wait! Wait!” Lightwood splashed through a puddle as he ran for the coach.
Michael covered a laugh with his hand. “I did not think it would be that easy.”
“I rather hoped he would decide to stay. A single drink in the taproom could unravel all my plans.” Richard could only pray Lightwood would be on better behavior.