The Portrait

by Hazel Statham

  The entrance of the landlord bearing a tray containing a foaming tankard of ale and a glass of lemonade prevented any further discourse on the subject. His wife, following with a meal of cold meats and bread and butter, smiled briefly in the travelers' direction before dropping a hasty curtsy and withdrawing in her husband's wake.

  Jennifer pulled a chair up to the table and forked some beef and pork onto her plate. The lemonade she found quite refreshing, and it was a moment before she realized that the earl watched her from his seat by the hearth, a wealth of amusement evident in his eyes.

  "Won't you join me, Edward?" she asked.

  Grinning, he held up his hand in reply. "I feel not the need for food at the moment. But please, don't let me spoil your appetite, which appears quite in order."

  "Of course, I was forgetting your hangover," she replied with disdain.

  "I'm never known to suffer the effects of a hangover, my girl. I am merely not hungry."

  "You don't fool me, Edward Thurston. Admit it, you're feeling rather green about the gills. I've seen that look often enough when Arthur has overimbibed."

  He came and sat at the table and took some of the meats onto his plate. "There, does that satisfy you?" he asked.

  "You really should eat something, Edward, for who knows when our next stop will be?"

  Having rejoined the coach some short while later, their next stop came rather sooner than they had anticipated. Midway through the afternoon, as they negotiated a sharp bend in the lane, they encountered a young sporting gentleman dashing along in his phaeton, forcing the coach driver to bring his team sharply to the side of the road. Much confusion ensued as the two teams swerved dangerously to avoid a collision, resulting in the coach mounting the bank of a deep ditch and slithering down the other side. Springing his horses and without as much as a backward glance, the gentleman disappeared almost as suddenly as he had materialized.

  Everyone inside the coach was thrown heavily to one side, and there were cries and oaths of differing force from its occupants amid the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass. Jennifer felt herself pinioned securely to the earl, his right arm holding her fast against his side.

  "Any harm done, Jen?" he asked as she attempted to right herself.

  "I'm fine, sir," she replied, then added ruefully, "you cush ioned my fall." Her gaze involuntarily went to his left shoulder. "I hope I haven't injured you, Edward. I would never forgive myself...."

  "I, too, am fine," he said with a reassuring smile. "Though I don't think Mr. Griffin has fared as well. He appears considerably winded."

  The Misses Griffin appeared to be of no use whatsoever in such a situation, one indulging in a fit of hysterics while the other swooned completely away. The cleric however, seemed equal to the task. Pushing open the off-side door, which was now uppermost, he climbed out and, taking hold of Jennifer's hand, pulled her clear of the doorway. Aided by Sinclair from inside the coach, Mr. Griffin, amid much huffing and puffing, was carefully raised aloft, the cleric taking him to sit on the opposite side of the lane away from the vehicle and the unsettled horses.

  The coach driver, relinquishing the care of his animals to the guard, came to the opening. "Out with you, sir," he said to the earl, giving him a hand to aid his ascent, then turned to the cleric. "If you would but climb once more into the coach, sir, we can lift the ladies out."

  Once the spinsters were retrieved from the coach and been assured that no further danger was likely, they appeared to rally and confined their energies to the care of their father, who also appeared to be recovering from the experience. The coachman, mounting one of the wheelers, declared his intention of riding back to the last coaching inn they had visited to secure another vehicle so that they might continue their journey.

  As the afternoon advanced into early evening and dusk began to fall, Jennifer sat with chin in hand on the bank a little way from the rest of the travelers. Standing before her, the earl watched for any sign of the returning coachman, but as none was apparent, he turned to face her.

  "I see no point in waiting here longer," he said. "I noticed that we passed a small inn on the road, probably not more than two or three miles back. I think it would be prudent to seek accommodation before our companions have the same idea and all the rooms are spoken for. It would not do that we should be forced to spend the night in the open."

  "An excellent idea," agreed Jennifer, coming to her feet and picking up her cloak bag.

  Having taken leave of their fellow passengers, who all declared their intention of awaiting the replacement coach, they retraced their steps along the dusty lane.

  As they walked, Jennifer examined the earl's profile. "Do you regret setting out with me, Edward?" she asked in a small voice.

  "To tell the truth, surprisingly, I do not," he replied, returning her regard and smiling. "I thought at first that I would, but I was quite wrong. Though I know not what they will be thinking in London when our absence is discovered."

  "They will think that we've eloped." She giggled, adding a little skip to her step, seemingly amused by the whole idea.

  "And that thought does not worry you?"

  "Not in the least. They may think what they like. Arthur will be monstrously disappointed when he finds out that it's not true"

  "So will Flora," he admitted reluctantly. "She's quite given up on me now that she realizes that I intend never to marry. Perhaps 'tis cruel of us to give her false hopes. However, perchance no connection will be made between our actions."

  "I think that hardly likely when we've been the cause of so much gossip, do you?"

  He grimaced. "Sadly, no. We must hope that our quest doesn't take us overlong. It would not do that we should be gone too lengthy a time. As it is, we must evolve some explanation that will prove acceptable. Without some such, it will be deemed that I've ruined you. Your reputation will be in tatters. Didn't you think of the consequences before setting out on such an expedition?"

  She hung her head, scuffing her toes as they walked. "To be honest, Edward, I didn't give it any thought. My one desire was to salvage Freddie. I shouldn't have embroiled you in my schemes, but you were the only one I thought I could safely turn to."

  A light of devilment lit his eyes. "What of Melville? Would he not have served your cause equally well?"

  Stopping in her tracks, she cast him a disparaging look, one almost of disgust. "Edward Thurston, you are hateful. Why do you find it necessary to be always throwing Melville at my head?"

  "I thought you favored him," he said innocently.

  "I most certainly do not!"

  "Then whom do you favor?"

  "I favor no one!" she replied hotly. "And should you find it necessary to pursue this train of thought, I will continue this journey on my own. I will not be cross-examined on the subject."

  "Caught a raw nerve, have I, Jen?"

  "No!" she cried, increasing her pace and going before him.

  Sinclair followed, watching with amusement the straightening of her shoulders and the effort she put into her step. However, he was loath for any discord to exist between them, and, lengthening his stride, he caught up with her. Jenny cast him a sidelong glance beneath her lashes but forbore any comment, and within minutes an easy camaraderie existed once more.

  It was fully dark by the time they finally arrived at their destination, the sign above the doorway proclaiming that they'd reached The King's Arms.

  When they entered the small inn, muted sounds came from the taproom set to the left. Opening the door sufficiently to seek out the landlord, Sinclair was pleased to note that there appeared no more than a few locals taking their ease. The landlord came forward, a look akin to astonishment on his round, cheerful face. Never before had members of The Quality patronized his humble establishment, and it took him quite by surprise to find such visitors in his hallway. For, as he said in a hasty aside to his wife, who'd just appeared from the kitchen at the rear, these were no ordinary travelers. It confounded him to fi
nd them afoot and with no visible means of transport. Even the earl's explanation of the accident in the lane didn't satisfy his curiosity, and he wondered why someone who was obviously of the gentry should be traveling on the common coach. Nonetheless, he was more than willing to offer them the hospitality of his modest establishment.

  Standing in the low-pitched entrance hall, Sinclair made known his requirements. "I would be grateful if you would provide a room for myself and another for my pupil," he said.

  The landlord appeared much disconcerted. "We've ... we've but one bedchamber that would be suitable, sir. The others would not do you-not at all. Could not the boy share it with you?"

  "Definitely not," replied the earl. Then, as some explanation was obviously necessary, he added, "He snores!"

  Jennifer turned sharply toward her traveling companion, casting him a look of extreme indignation, and she was even more angered to encounter the look of amusement in his eyes.

  "I am quite in sympathy with you, sir," replied the landlord. "Perhaps it would prove beneficial to you if the young gentleman had a truckle bed set up in the closet?"

  "As the hour is late and there appears no alternative, it would seem that arrangement will have to suffice," replied the earl, taking hold of Jennifer's elbow and giving it a meaningful squeeze to prevent any thoughts of rebellion. "Do you have a parlor?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then I would be obliged if you would waste no time in serving us supper there"

  The landlord bowed them into a small cozy room at the rear of the house that was obviously intended for his own family's use but had hastily been vacated in honor of the newly arrived visitors.

  "Would a supper of ham and eggs with a veal pie suit you, your honor?" he asked. "And perhaps a nice slice of apple pie? My wife's very well known for her apple pie."

  "It would suit admirably," replied Sinclair, not at all daunted by the prospect of such plain fare. "Ale too, and lemonade for the la-lad."

  "You were going to say lady, weren't you?" accused Jennifer as the landlord withdrew and they made themselves comfortable in the two winged chairs set before the hearth. "I might have known you wouldn't be able to keep up the masquerade"

  "You caught me out." The earl laughed. "Even after I'd been so careful as to ensure that we had separate rooms"

  "I will not qualify that remark with a reply," returned Jennifer haughtily.

  Sinclair's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Have no fear, it is I who will sleep in the closet, Jem, and you will be assured of your comfort."

  Jennifer remained indignant, despite not being entirely impervious to the gleam in her companion's eye. "Couldn't you have thought of some excuse other than I snore? I'm sure that if it had been the other way about, I could've found a more noble explanation."

  "Then perhaps I am not as practiced at bending the truth as you would appear to be, Jeremiah."

  An extremely incensed response was prevented at that moment by the arrival of the ham and eggs and veal pie. Neither had been aware of just how hungry they'd become, and, seating themselves at the small table, they set to with great zeal.

  "Country air certainly improves one's appetite," commented Jennifer as they awaited the appearance of the apple pie.

  "At least I need have no fear of you wasting away, my dear," commented the earl with some amusement. "It's quite refreshing to see a young lady who doesn't find it necessary to declare she has the appetite of a bird. I fail to see the sense in that"

  "Then you've not been schooled in the niceties of a young lady in society. One must appear to scarcely need sustenance, to preserve one's ethereal air. Besides, you said that I must behave as a scrubby schoolboy. I merely do as I am bid."

  "A role you fill quite admirably. One would suspect you born to it." He laughed, unable to contain his amusement further. "I can scarcely believe you to be the same elegant Lady Jennifer who is the darling of society. You've taken on a surprising new persona-one I never would have suspected you capable of, although one I must admit to having taken a liking to"

  The apple pie arrived fresh from the oven, the landlady bringing a jug of thick cream that she thought the young gentleman would like, and she patted Jen's cheek as she passed. "You remind me so of my youngest boy," she commented. Encountering a strange look from the earl, she dropped a hasty curtsy. "Begging the sir's pardon, I'm sure," she said, making a hurried exit.

  It was as well that she did not stay, for she would've thought it most strange to see the two gentlemen engaged in a most unseemly bout of laughter.

  The closet, connected to the small but neat bedchamber by a door, proved to be no more than a cupboard. The truckle bed almost filled its entire space, making it difficult for the earl to stand inside. He had to bend his head to enter, his broad shoulders almost filling the doorway. Jennifer laughed at his predicament as she sat hugging her knees on the large bed.

  "I do think we would fare much better if I slept in there" She giggled, watching his efforts to ease his frame into the small space allowed. "I don't need half the room that you do. I could be quite comfortable."

  Grinning ruefully, the earl stepped reluctantly back into the bedroom. "I doubt the bed would take my length, though it would be less than noble of me to consign you to such a fate"

  "Nonsense!" she cried, coming to her feet. "I would be quite cozy in there" Pushing past him, she sat on the bed. "See? I fit perfectly."

  Seeing the sense of the arrangement, Sinclair could do naught but agree, though he liked not the thought that she was forced to endure the cramped conditions of the closet. "You must leave the door ajar, should you have need of me," he or dered. "And if you become uncomfortable, we must exchange places."

  "Stop wittering, Edward," she admonished, smiling impishly up at him. "I will do extremely well in here if you would just pass my bag so that I may undress"

  He passed her bag, and the door was closed while she prepared to retire.

  Taking up his own valise, he laid it on the bed and opened the straps, but, as he put his hand inside, his fingers encountered a small oval object, and he lifted it from its resting place. Even in the dim light cast by the lone candle, he knew what he held. It was the portrait. Hastily he pushed it back into the valise; it would not do that his companion should see it. He could not believe that he'd been so foolish as to bring it with him, but so used had he become to having it always with him that, in his inebriated state, he must have automatically packed it along with his other necessities.

  Seeing that the closet door remained closed, he retrieved the miniature once more. Taking it to the window, he drew the curtain slightly to one side so that the moon's pale light shone weakly on the sweet face. His lips slowly curved into a smile as his eyes caressed each feature, his senses drinking in her fragile beauty. He studied it for as long as he dared before raising it to his lips and then once more replacing it among his belongings, knowing that Jennifer must never see it.

  When they arrived in the parlor in pursuit of breakfast the following morning, the landlord waited on them immediately. Being the only travelers at the inn, they received his undivided attention. "Did you sleep well in the closet, young sir?" he asked as he brought Jennifer a cup of tea and deposited coffee before the earl.

  "Quite cozily, thank you," she replied with some amusement, sobering slightly at a warning glance from her companion but unable to resist temptation. "Though I must tell you, I am not the only one who may be accused of snoring."

  "Touche, Jeremiah." The earl grinned as the landlord left the room chuckling. "Do I snore, Jem?"

  "I wouldn't know, Ned," she replied mischievously, waiting for the rebuff, but none came. "I must have fallen asleep long before you" Then after a moment's silence she asked, "May I call you Ned? It has such a comfortable feel to it."

  Sinclair grinned. "You may call me what you will, my dear. Indeed, if we are to continue on such a footing, I think it would be advisable. Perhaps at our next encounter you might like to introduce me as your brother
. It will make our association less formal and enable you to take the name of Thurston rather than Scatterwell, with which you have been so ignobly christened."

  "Do I have to remain Jeremiah?" she asked hopefully. "Couldn't another name be found?"

  "Jem it must remain, I'm afraid. It would not do to risk a slip and raise curiosity."

  "Then let it be Jeremy, should the need arise. It's slightly more noble."

  "Very well. Jeremy Thurston you shall become. Welcome to the family, my dear."

  She gave him a curious look, to which he raised an inquiring brow.

  "What now, Jem? Why so suddenly serious?"

  "It's so like the name I very nearly had-Jenny Thurston"

  He rose abruptly from the table, almost upsetting his coffee in the process. "We cannot go back to those times, Jenny," he said in a hardened voice. "I gave you my reasons, and they remain. You will thank me soon enough"

  "I, too, certainly have no wish to resume our engagement," she replied with equal coldness. "Though not for the same reasons as you, I suspect."

  "Then what are your reasons, Jenny? Tell me now, and have done with it. Whatever they are, you will find no opposition. Indeed, in all probability I will agree with you. Therefore, speak; I am prepared for the worst"

  For a moment she regarded him rebelliously, before replying in a defiant tone, "My reasons are, Edward Thurston, that you gave me no opportunity to get to know you. I am well aware that you proposed to me at the instigation of our families. Your offer was made merely out of a sense of obligation...

  "You had no objection at the time," he interjected harshly. "If I remember correctly, you appeared to almost welcome the match."

  "I was young. I didn't realize the implications. Almost immediately you were posted to Spain, and when I attempted to get to know you through your letters, all you ever mentioned were trivialities. How could I marry a man who had no desire to know me? I would as soon remain unwed than to enter into such a marriage."