Green's jaws worked as though he ground his teeth, but he returned his host's faint smile with a nod and said nothing.
Sir Vinson embraced Jennifer and told her she must "have a lovely time."
"Do you come, sir?" she asked.
"Assuredly. Howland and I expect to be able to arrive well before the ball on Friday. You will give my compliments to Lord and Lady Morris, of course."
Howland called to him from the front door, and he kissed her, and hurried away.
Jennifer turned to the coach, and murmured, "If I may have your hand, Crane…"
It was Green however, who rushed to hand her into the coach, and Crane drew back, his lips pursed, his eyes darting to Tilly Mays' equally annoyed face.
"How dreary we shall be without your lovely self," mourned his lordship, retaining Jennifer's hand and following her up one step. "You will miss me too, m'dear. But never grieve, I follow you at the week-end, so you will not be bereft of my company for too long."
She had hoped to be free from the wretch, and this was unwelcome news. Pulling her hand away, she seated herself on the red velvet cushions and murmured, "Indeed? I'd fancied you too busied with your plans to be able to accept Lord Kenneth's invitation."
"Were his gracious majesty, King George, coming to consult me, 'twould not keep me from your side a day past Friday, Miss Jennifer. This I promise."
She stared at him, but he met her cold eyes with an egoism that would not be abashed. 'He is quite unable to credit that I do not want him,' she thought, and called pointedly, "Pray hurry, Tilly. We must be off."
His lordship, sighing dejectedly, was obliged to give way, and within seconds Tilly was ensconced opposite her mistress. With a lurch, a clatter of hooves and a creak of leather, the carriage started across the courtyard. Jennifer leaned from the window to flutter her handkerchief to Sir Vinson and Howland, who waved from the top of the front steps.
Lord Green sprang to snatch the scrap of cambric and lace. "Thank you, fairest," he bellowed. "Though I need no token to keep your beauty fresh in my heart!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Jennifer, jerking back from the window in a rage. "That—that insufferable …!"
They were out of the yard then, and rolling along at a steady pace. It was silly to be thinking that his lordship seemed bolder these past few days, as if more sure he had won her. Just as silly to imagine that her father was brooding over some secret trouble. Likely he regretted having given Green permission to lease the mine, that was all. And there was still time to withdraw his permission, for nothing had been done as yet. She shrugged away her misgivings. My lord Green's connivings would not spoil this day! Nor the party, if he should come, which heaven forbid! She gave an impatient shrug of her shoulders, and dismissed the odious baron from her mind.
"How fortunate that the fog left us this bright sunshine," she exclaimed. "Only look, Tilly. Is it not beautiful?"
It was indeed beautiful. Renowned as it is for ferocious gales and sudden dense fogs, the northern coast of Cornwall can be a bleak and forbidding place. But when the western wind breathes warm, and sky and sea are matching cerulean bowls, it is a sight to touch the soul. So it was on this bright morning. The waves, ending their long journey from the Americas, foamed like white lace against the offshore rocks, then met the shore with a caress; the sunshine danced on tidal pools and streams; ever on guard, the cliffs strode strong and proud above golden beach, quiet cove, and secluded bay. The air was pure and sweet, and so clear that the ancient and mysterious standing stones that soared on the headland fourteen miles distant seemed but half a mile away.
The glories of Nature did not impress Tilly, however. She was not a good traveller, and remarked in a die-away voice that she only hoped it didn't "come over hot" for she couldn't abide heat and would likely be sick.
"Of course you won't, foolish creature," scolded Jennifer lightly. "How can you be so dismal? You should be happy to be out driving on such a morning."
"With a looby on the box," sniffed Tilly. "I only pray we will arrive safely!"
And so it went. However Jennifer strove to keep her good humour, Tilly remained obstinately miserable. Exasperated when her martyred handmaiden moaned that she knew she was a trial and unwanted, Jennifer said at her most stern, "Your whining is unwanted, certainly. Since you are determined to be a misery you may get out and wait here. Jack can come back for you later, and take you home."
Horrified, Tilly demanded, "And who would take care of you, and—and dress your hair so pretty as what I do, miss? That I would like to know!"
"I am very sure Lady Kenneth's housekeeper will find a woman to serve me with competence. And with none of your complaining." Jennifer reached for the check string.
Tilly gave a shriek, swore she would utter not another word, and appeared to fall into a coma.
With a furtive smile, Jennifer settled back and admired the scenery while anticipating the coming party and a happy reunion with her friend Caroline. The miles slipped away and her thoughts drifted to Johnny. He was driving very well. There was little of the swaying that really did tend to make Tilly unwell. How charmingly he looked in the livery, and how light-hearted he had seemed, the shy smile in his eyes banishing the hunted look she often glimpsed there.
She found that she was smiling, and slanted a glance at Tilly. The woman was dabbing a handkerchief at her face, which was not surprising, for it had become quite warm. "Why did you not open the window as you were uncomfortable?" said Jennifer, standing to do so.
"I didn't want to disturb you, miss," sighed Tilly. "You looked like you was having such wonderful happy thoughts."
Jennifer was obliged to apply her handkerchief to her own cheeks, which had become suddenly heated.
Soon, the breeze died away altogether. Tilly was pale and silent. Watching her uneasily, Jennifer feared the worst, and pulled the check string.
The carriage slowed and stopped, and when Jonathan opened the trap she told him to find a shady spot. "We must rest for a little while. My maid cannot tolerate this heat."
In very short order the horses were splashing through a shallow stream towards a copse of trees. They were small trees, bowing inevitably to the east, but they offered a welcome shade, and Jonathan drew the team to a halt.
"There," said Jennifer, patting Tilly's listless hand kindly. "You'll feel better after you have a rest. Can you get up?"
Tilly wailed, and one hand flew to her mouth.
Jennifer supported her to the steps where Jonathan waited to lift her down.
With her cheek against his shoulder, Tilly revived sufficiently to scan their oasis, then shrieked, "Oh—Gawd! Oh, Gawd!"
A large and alarmed hare shot under the noses of the team. With ringing neighs, the high-bread animals reared and plunged. In another second, they would bolt, and Jennifer was still in the coach. Jonathan dropped Tilly unceremoniously and sprang for the heads of the leaders. He was barely in time, and was dragged a short way before he was able to pull them to a halt. He secured the reins to one of the trees and rushed to whip open the carriage door, which had swung shut.
Jennifer had been flung back on the seat, and was trying to pull her cap from over her eyes. Her gown was in disarray, revealing a very nicely turned leg, but she was unhurt, and said with a shaken smile, "That was an excitement I did not really need, Johnny Coachman."
Able to breathe again, his relieved glance took in the pretty limb and rested there appreciatively.
Jennifer's hand whipped her skirts into place, then was extended. He took it, and handed her down the steps feeling his face redden. But when he slanted a look at her, the dimple flickered beside her mouth.
Tilly was on her hands and knees, weeping loudly.
Running to console her, Jennifer said anxiously, "My poor dear. Whatever happened?"
"I knowed it… I knowed it!" wailed Tilly. "Evil's come amongst us!" Her accusing and tearful eyes fixed upon Jonathan. "To be throwed down…! Like I was—was so much dirt!"
"
I am truly sorry, miss," he said apologetically. "But I had to get to the leaders fast, or there'd have been no stopping them."
"And I am very glad you did," said Jennifer, coaxing her abigail to stand. "Had you not screamed so, Tilly, the horses would not have taken fright. Whatever made you behave in such a way?"
The only response was a renewed flood of tears and some disjointed mumblings about being blamed, "as usual!"
Jennifer looked to Jonathan in silent questioning.
He said, "She saw a hare, ma'am."
Jennifer paled. "Oh, no! Are you quite sure?"
He nodded. "It ran under the team."
Tilly clung to Jennifer's hand. "We must go b-back, Miss J-Jennifer! We daren't go on! 'Twas how I knowed it would be!" Another scared glance shot at Jonathan. She whispered, "Evil's come… among us!"
Jennifer stared at her, wide-eyed.
Jonathan went to soothe the still-nervous horses. It was happening again. As it had in St. Just and Zenor, and, worst of all, in Garrison Pen, where they'd almost managed to put a period to him. Yet it was that merciless beating which had brought him here, to find the lady he worshipped. He frowned, and led the horses into another patch of shade. The lady he had no right to worship. Yet in the schoolroom on that most wondrous of rainy afternoons, he had almost dared to kiss her. And today, because he no longer wore ragged garments, he had started to feel fully alive and able to hold his head up again. What utter folly! As though clothes could change what he was; or anything in the entire world have the power to wipe the slate clean and allow him to dream—
"Why do you look so grim, Johnny? Are you wishing you had let the team run away with me?"
His unruly heart gave a leap and began to pound erratically. He jerked his head up. Jennifer stood watching him, her face shaded by a dainty parasol. He said, "No. Of course not. But—but I had no thought to have thrown your maid down so roughly."
"Is that why you were looking so miserable?"
His eyes fell away. "She was very shaken, ma'am."
"Yes, but she is resting now, and will be much better for a short nap."
He looked past her. Tilly lay on a blanket spread under the trees. "You will wish to rest also, Miss Jennifer."
"Thank you, but there is not the need. If I am tired, 'tis from sitting in the coach. I shall walk for a little while."
The offer she anticipated was not forthcoming. Jonathan became deeply engrossed in loosening harness straps, and then took up a handful of grass and concentrated on a rather restricted rubbing down of the animals, not once glancing at her.
She watched him speculatively, and pointed out, "You have already tended the off-leader. Are you going to water them?"
"When they've cooled down, ma'am."
"They'll be cool in this shade. Give me your escort, if you please."
If he pleased! But he loved her too much, and to be alone with her was such a bittersweet temptation. Avoiding her candid gaze, he muttered, "If I leave them, they'll graze, and I don't want them eating while they're still warm."
"Exactly right. So we will all walk, and your horses can cool down while you keep them from devouring the scenery."
Perforce, he took the reins, and man, team, and coach, followed Jennifer obediently.
"I suppose," she murmured, at the head of this small procession, "being from London, you find our superstitions so much nonsense?"
"I'm not sure I am from London, ma'am."
"Oh, a pretty evasion! And how may I talk when you are lagging back there? Am I to be burdened with a stiff neck in addition to my—other injuries?"
He all but sprang to her side, and said anxiously, "I'd not known you were hurt. Can I help?"
Her eyes danced. "Now that would really drive Tilly into the boughs! I fear I have bruised my—Er, I have sustained a bruise."
The dimple that must assuredly be the most kissable such article in the history of mankind was quivering beside her lips. He had to choke back a teasing response. She was lonely, poor darling girl, and she had begun, perhaps unconsciously, to reach out to him, to speak to him as an equal. But how appalled she would be to realise that such a one as he presumed to love her… And so it was that he did not return her smile, but said gravely, "Indeed? I am very sorry, ma'am."
To Jennifer, it was as if her rather naughty remark had been too vulgar to be acknowledged. How dare he be so aloof! How dare he presume to give her a set-down? Angry and mortified, she thought, 'You invited it, Jennifer Britewell! A fine pass have you come to, that you must play the coquette with a common groom!' It was a sobering admission. She said with rare hauteur, "And I owe you another vote of thanks. Had the team succeeded in bolting I would have had more than a bruise to complain of, but I suppose I dare not try to reward you."
Just to be near her was the greatest reward she could offer him. But it was clear that his reserve had annoyed her. He must not spoil that dismal success. He said woodenly, "You are in my care, ma'am. 'Tis the duty of all your servants to—"
"Oh, hush!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot at him with pretty ferocity. "Do not throw your humble servitude in my face!"
He blinked at this rather muddled admonition. "But—I am in your father's service, and—"
"And had you not been, you would have let me be carried to my death, I collect!"
"No—of course not. I only meant—"
'To act the part of a servant. And I am obliged to tell you that 'tis a role you play very poorly!"
He tensed, then, still striving, admitted, "I expect I do. It is—a big step up from being a penniless wanderer, ma'am."
She uttered a small snort of impatience. "Very well, since servants must obey their mistr—"—she corrected hurriedly—"their employers, answer my question. I asked your opinion of our superstitions."
She looked so adorably conscious of that near slip of the tongue. He kept his countenance somehow, and replied, "Cornwall does seem rather rife with it, Miss Jennifer. I cannot but—er, pity the poor hares."
She stopped walking and with an instant change of mood put a hand on his arm. "Johnny, you must never say such a thing to others! Not to another soul! Promise me."
Her eyes were full of anxiety that was, he knew, for his sake. Deeply moved, he could not refrain from smiling as he answered, "I promise. But I cannot think you share the belief that hares contain the spirits of the dead, or can change their form."
She walked on again. "I am Cornish born and bred. In some ways this lovely county is far more steeped in ancient beliefs and fables than is any other part of England. The legend of my own house is part of our history." She glanced at his intent face. "Do you know why the castle is named Triad?"
"I fancy it goes back to Arthurian legend. The triangle: Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot. But was there not another such triangle? King—Marcus, I believe, who sent Tristan to fetch his bride, the Princess Iseult?"
She turned her head and looked at him steadily. "Your memory is not always elusive, is it, Johnny?"
He bit his lip. "Then you will be wishing to turn back? As Tilly asked."
"I make my own decisions. Even if I am as silly and superstitious as you think."
"I could not ever believe you to be silly!"
"Only superstitious."
He said nothing. Jennifer hummed as she walked, twirling her parasol, and gazing out across the sparkling ocean as though Jonathan had ceased to exist. And perfectly aware that from time to time he stole a glance at her.
Yet when she looked his way it was to find that he had fallen behind and was following her at a respectful distance. "I did not require that you walk behind me again," she said, waiting for him to draw level.
"No, ma'am. But I fear that—you find me irksome."
"If I do, 'tis because you draw the curtains over your thoughts. I wish you will not."
"What did you wish… to know, ma'am?"
"Oh, so many things. But for the moment, what you are thinking will do."
He thought grimly, 'Oh, no
it won't!' and lied, "I was thinking what a pity it will be for you to miss the party. You have so looked forward to it."
"I have. But—how did you know that?"
"Because you were so radiant this morning. I mean no offence, Miss Jennifer, but you seldom set out covers for guests. And your friend seemed not to stay for very long."
"If you mean Hibbard Green," she said, frowning, "he is no friend of mine!"
He could have kissed her for that denial. "I meant the lady who was here last week. I chanced to see her out walking."
Puzzled, Jennifer said, "I entertained no visitors last week. Unless, perhaps…" She thought of Howland and wondered if he had been dallying with some new light of love. "Perhaps, the lady was a friend of my brother."
That was logical enough, but still—She was looking at him curiously, and he said, "I did not mean to—to pry, ma'am. I'm only glad to know that she came to no harm."
"Harm?" Stiffening, she asked. "Why should you suppose that a friend of my brother would be harmed in my father's house?"
"No—she would not, of course! Only, it seemed rather—er, unwise. To walk on the moor, I mean. I tried to warn her about being up there alone at night, but—"
Jennifer halted and stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about? If the lady was on the moor at night, I am very sure my brother escorted her."
"So I would have thought, but she was quite alone, and—"
"A lady! Alone at night? On the moor? If ever I heard of such a thing! Where was this, pray?"
"Near the old mine. Perhaps she was acquainted with one of the men up there."
"What men? There is no work going forward at the mine yet."
"I know. But there are men there. Many rough fellows. I saw them."
She was frightened suddenly. In his livery he looked every inch the aristocrat. Could he be playing a part, after all? Had she been a silly, trusting fool? Everyone knew that Excise officers were sly and devious. He very obviously had been prowling about the Blue Rose after dark. Her suspicions rushed back tenfold. She said in a breathless accusation, "You are trying to trap me with all this talk of a lady, and of men working at the mine!"
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