“But it’s no never mind,” Fanny said, her trepidation an audible warble. “You’re going back to London. With me.” She studied her feet. “I’ve never been. My Da’ says I’m to go with you and take the stagecoach right back, but I don’t mind saying—” what, she didn’t actually say. She looked up, stricken. “Begging your pardon, milady. It’s a privilege to serve you and don’t I know it.”
“You’re kind to accompany me,” Jane said, “but I’d much rather continue on the canal.”
“Would you?” Fanny perked up, only to fade back to glum. “My Da’s been paid for me to go to London with you, ma’am.”
“I’ll pay you more to help me re-board the narrow boat I was on.”
Fanny agreed to ask her father about Jane’s change of plans and rushed from the room. In time, she returned, her spirits restored.
“If it’s not to London, my Da’ said there’s no need for this.” She held out half a crown. “He thinks you’re daft, but he’ll let me help you so long as you take your money back.”
“Fanny, get me aboard the Invictus and you’ve earned it.” Jane curled the girl’s fingers around the coin. “I mustn’t draw attention to myself. Will you help me?”
Tentatively, Fanny said, “If you’re asking me, milady, you’d best take off the gloves.”
Jane tugged finger by finger to remove her gloves.
“And say as little as you can,” Fanny whispered shyly. “I mean no disrespect, but you talk as fine as you look.” She circled Jane. “If we loosened your stays, you could move. And you won’t look so underfed.”
Jane turned and Fanny hiked up her blouse in back to do as she suggested. With the lacing loosened, her blouse filled out to thicken her midriff. Jane began to bubble with optimism.
Fanny kept up an encouraging commentary while she altered Jane’s appearance. Each small change gave her more confidence that she could do what she must to see Bibendum off to Ireland.
“There.” The girl loosened tendrils of hair from Jane’s bun. “Hair don’t stay where it’s put when you’re working, milady. I’ll lend you my pattens, too. You’ll make noise every step but that’s the point. Everyone does.” Fanny untied the wood soles from her own shoes and knelt to show Jane how to put them on. “That’ll do for you.”
“I don’t suppose you know anything about the K&A?”
“Just about everything.” Fanny’s eyes sparkled. “My uncle skippers a narrow boat hauling coal to Bath from the mines. I helped out after Auntie had her last babe.”
If Seelye and Mr. Percy could’ve guessed how helpful her new maid would be, neither gentleman would sleep a wink.
She asked Fanny how to catch the boat.
“At the lock, milady. The first one west of here is Freeman’s Marsh, an easy walk. No one uses the locks till it’s light, so we’ll have to go early to get there first.”
“And if they won’t let me re-board,” Jane said. “what can I do?”
“They won’t have much choice at the lock. They’re stuck in it till the water levels off. There’s paddles, front and back,” Fanny explained. “Now if, say, someone opened the back paddles while the front were open, that someone would leave the Invictus with no way to go on. If that don’t convince them, tell ‘em you’ll go upstream and open the next lock, d’you see?”
Rather than admit she didn’t perfectly grasp Fanny’s suggestion, she tried to summarize it, “I must threaten to open the paddles so they’ll take me along rather than worry about what I might do at the next lock.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It seemed as if she’d only just laid her head on the pillow when Fanny nudged her awake. She dressed and quietly left the inn with her temporary maid.
Fanny pointed out The Lock and Key, a canal-side tavern where the proprietor kept a spare key in case a boatman’s went missing. Jane stood out of the way when Fanny asked the tavern owner, Hiram Coates, for the key. He glanced Jane’s way then took a cumbersome iron crank handle down from the wall and gave it to Fanny.
“Your pretty friend’s too shy to ask herself, isn’t she?” Coates said. He raised his voice to address Jane, “It don’t happen often, ma’am. Not that I blame your husband for losing track of his key with you on board.”
Caught off guard, Jane stammered, “Well, I—I’m not—”
“Yes, ma’am, you are.” He saw at once his teasing made her uneasy and said, “Pay me no mind. You’d distract the most dedicated skipper is all I meant to say.”
“I see. Thank you.” Jane’s face heated in embarrassment.
Coates looked quizzically at Fanny but said no more.
Outside the tavern, Jane tried to take her bag and the key from the girl and leave.
“Da’d skin me if I let you go off alone. I’ll take you there an’ stay till you’re on your way. Start down the path, if you please. I’ll follow like I should. A proper maid walks behind, ain’t that so?”
“Yes, but friends walk together,” Jane said.
The yawning gap between their classes made Fanny balk. Jane would have none of it.
“Give me that,” Jane said, pointing at her bag. “I can carry it.”
Fanny refused, “Best you try walking a while, milady.”
In the pre-dawn darkness, Jane acclimated herself to the borrowed pattens. Kid slippers they were not. She clomped carefully down the steps to reach the towpath, clutching the railing. Fanny followed carrying her bag and the key.
From there, they walked away side by side till they reached a good spot by the lock to wait out of sight.
When the sky brightened, mallard and teal came to fish in the water. A kestrel floated aloft, searching the marshy banks for mice and voles.
After sun up, Jane watched a draft horse tow the Invictus past ranks of ash and sycamore trees in the distance. In time, the narrow boat entered Freeman’s Marsh lock.
She and Fanny watched the men go to work.
After the boat slipped into the basin, Seelye deftly brought the boat to a stop with a loop of tow rope around a squat wooden post on the bank. Plimpton’s elder son, Jacob, scrambled up the turf-sided bank with an iron key and cranked the back paddles closed.
Jane had grown cold and uncomfortable waiting in the dark for the narrow boat. She pulled her pelisse around her with numb hands.
Mr. Percy emerged from the boatman’s cabin to join Seelye on deck. Now free from her inhibiting presence, the men told off-color jokes among themselves. Jacob opened the forward paddles and water flowed in to raise the boat.
“It’s time,” Fanny whispered and handed Jane the iron piece. She balked until Fanny prodded her out of hiding. “Go to the rear spindle now.”
Jane hurried forward and waited for their laughter to subside. As soon as they spotted her, the men fell silent. She hefted the heavy key onto the spindle clumsily.
“What in blazes are you doing here?” Seelye called out.
“I am going to Bristol,” she called back and thumped the iron windlass with her numb fist for emphasis.
Something in the gears gave way. She lurched forward and fell against the key. Before she knew what was happening, the gears began to turn. The key’s spokes bruised her palms each time she tried to slow it. The key spun with the incoming water’s weight forcing the rear paddles farther apart. With every revolution, more water raced through the lock.
“Close it,” Seelye yelled.
“Let me come to Bristol. Promise me,” she cried, snatching at the revolving key.
“Please, Miss, close the paddles,” Mr. Plimpton said, forgetting her rank in his distress. Jacob left the forward paddles partly open in his panic to help her.
Jane flung out a hand, “Eh! Eh! Eh!”
The young man halted, wild-eyed and unsure. The windlass slowed to a stop with the paddles wide.
“We have to close ‘em now,” Plimpton’s son begged her.
“Lord Seelye must agree to let me come.”
“You know I can’t,” he said from the
deck.
Mr. Percy stood at his side, the skipper stood at the tiller. Jacob approached slowly. To a man, they frowned at her.
“Where’re your wits, lad. Close the front paddles,” his father barked at his other son beside the horse.
Marcus jumped to obey. With those paddles shut, the water stopped flowing but the boat could go no farther.
“Let me board or I’ll go to the next lock, Seelye.”
His thunderous expression made clear she had not comprehended the consequence of her threat.
“Do not threaten what you will not do, Jane. Open those paddles and you’ll drain this section of canal and bring the entire waterway to a standstill. Are you so spoiled a brat that you’d strand all boats just to have your way?” he demanded.
Spoiled brat?
Jane glanced over at Fanny, then turned to Mr. Plimpton, who looked solemn.
“Is it true?” She asked him, praying it wasn’t.
“Aye, milady, there’s no water pump, just what’s in the weir. It’s not deep an’ it empties downhill fast.”
Judging by Seelye’s furious expression, Jane knew what they all thought of her. She also knew how uncomfortable the trip would be if she was despised by everyone but her bear. But how could they understand? No one but a prisoner could feel the desperation she felt glimpsing her chance of escape, if only for a little while. She steeled herself to do what she must. Every adventure has its perils, she reminded herself, and every bid for freedom its price.
She ignored her pounding heart and straightened her shoulders to say, “I will go with Bibendum to Bristol. Or else.”
“I didn’t think you capable of such selfishness,” Seelye exclaimed. “Perhaps I’ve misjudged you.”
It took Mr. Percy to broker a tepid truce between them.
“She’s broken our square, Seelye.”
“Has not.”
“We can’t make her go, can’t leave her behind,” Mr. Percy said.
“We could leave her on the bank bound and gagged, for all I care.”
“You can’t keep her out of mischief,” Mr. Percy said reasonably. “Not unless you take her back to London yourself. What happens to the bear in the meantime? We only have the boat a few more days. You might as well accept that she means to go along. I’ll help from land, as I’ve said already.”
“No, damn it,” he said. “Her reputation—”
“She’s old enough to understand the risk.”
“But not wise enough,” Seelye said, staring straight at her.
“I am tired of having threats of ruin thrown at my head till the crack of doom, Lord Seelye Burton. This time I will not capitulate. I won’t be a good little girl. I will not do as I’m told,” she said. “I am neither your responsibility, nor George’s. I’ve reached my majority unscathed despite my selfish stupidity. So my life is my own and I am free to make my own choices and mistakes.”
“Must I add ‘The Irrational’ to your list of epithets?” Seelye asked.
“Those witticisms may not flatter me, but none impugns my virtue,” she said. “Like it or not, I am coming with Bibendum.”
“Percy, say something,” he begged.
The Horseman raised his hands in mock surrender and disappeared down the cabin’s hatch to fetch his things.
When he reappeared, Mr. Percy said, “I’ll be off, Seelye. I’ve left you the food and my wood shoes since I can wear my own boots and clothes from now on.”
Seelye shook his upraised fists and roared at the heavens in exasperation.
“Have done, friend,” Mr. Percy said before he scrambled up the bank.
“Very well, board if you insist,” Seelye said. “But close those blasted paddles first.”
She tried to crank the key but it proved too difficult. He jumped onto the embankment and moved her aside. With Mr. Percy’s help, they wrenched the key hard enough to draw the aft paddles closed. No one spoke until Mr. Plimpton ordered Marcus to re-open the front paddles.
In the meantime, Jane went to collect her portmanteau from Fanny in the bushes.
“That took real gumption, milady,” she whispered, “I don’t doubt you’re up to the rest.”
Jane gave the girl a crushing hug and whispered, “Thank you for saying so, and for all your help.”
“Safe travels,” Fanny said.
After their farewell, wordless minutes passed while inflowing water raised the narrow boat. Seelye’s forbidding expression kept her from waiting anywhere near him on the embankment.
Percy slung his bag on his back and started off.
“Oh, Mr. Percy,” Jane called out and hefted the borrowed key off the spindle.
He returned for it.
“This belongs to Mr. Hiram Coates of The Lock and Key. Please take it before I’m tempted to brain Lord Seelye with it. And would you escort Miss Jellicott home?”
“With pleasure, my lady,” Mr. Percy said.
He offered Seelye a mocking “Bon voyage!” then waved Fanny out of hiding. “Good morning, Miss Jellicott.” The two started down the towpath toward Hungerford, with Mr. Percy swinging the key and saying loudly, “You must tell me all about last night.”
Jane turned to Seelye. “I promise to be helpful.”
“Need I explain why your ruin would be less than ‘helpful’ to me?”
“You need not.”
“Fine.”
A tense moment passed in silence until Seelye said, “All right, I have to know. How did you manage this ambush?”
Strangely enough, he sounded more curious than angry.
So Jane answered truthfully, “You’ve no idea how helpful Mr. Percy’s maid, Fanny, proved to be.”
“Oh, I’ve some idea,” he drawled. “Next time, you’ll have a deaf mute.”
“You advised me to unbend,” she said. “Turns out that was excellent advice. I unbent with Fanny and here I am.”
He growled like Bibendum and raked his hands through his hair.
“Is something amiss? I thought you’d be pleased to know I took some more of your advice, my lord,” she asked.
“I don’t find this funny, Jane.”
“Nor do I. I told you that seeing this through means a great deal to me. I cannot explain why and you couldn’t possibly understand even if I could because you’re a man.”
He threw his hands up, and cried, “What on earth am I to do with you?”
From the path, Mr. Percy called out, “Marry her!”
“I’d leifer take a bullet,” Seelye exclaimed and stalked away.
“And I’d leifer shoot him,” Jane added before stepping aboard.
Mr. Percy’s laughter faded in the distance.
Chapter 30
In which an egg breaks an impasse.
Silence persisted the rest of the day, adding to Seelye’s discomfort on deck. In this way, eleven miles were covered after Jane embarked at Freeman’s Marsh. Plimpton and his sons worked around them and did their best to ignore the tension.
Without being told, she slipped into the boatman’s cabin when the Invictus passed through Little Bedwyn and Great Bedwyn. Seelye retreated to the stern when she returned to the bow to enjoy the balmy air through the woods at Wilton Brail.
The narrow boat cleared nineteen uphill locks with steady efficiency to reach the canal’s summit at Crofton Top.
The skipper announced his intention to moor overnight near the tiny hamlet of Savernake at the mouth of the Bruce Tunnel. He wanted his lads to rest up for Devizes, he said. Left unsaid was his desire to let the in-laws settle their differences in private, if they ever broke their wordless stalemate.
Seelye did not like angry, fraught silences. He admitted this to himself, if not to Jane. He relied on sarcasm to vent his frustrations but never indulged in lasting, mute hostility. Holding a grudge didn’t suit him.
She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly adapted to express her dislike in wordless gestures—and intended to do so indefinitely. He suffered her turned-away face at his approa
ch, her frown when she did glance at him, and her careful mincing around him as if he were a stinking pile of dung. It was all dashed uncomfortable for a fellow who liked to be liked. But how to ease the tension between them?
In a state of distraction, he walked Bibendum along the towpath late that night, slept uneasily on deck, and awoke exhausted before dawn the next day.
A solitary ramble with the bear in Savernake Forest offered him a welcome respite. He took with him his journal and pencil to draw the famous trees.
It was a relief to be in the company of a like-minded male. Bibendum grumbled and snuffled, which made for an agreeable, if one-sided, conversation. So he spent the first ten minutes enumerating the lady’s misdemeanors to the bear’s afterthought of a tail.
“Look at me, I’m a disgrace,” he declared and unbuttoned his trousers to relieve himself against a tree. He tidied up and continued, “Aren’t we stumbling around in the dark at the behest of a willful, capricious female? Aren’t we both endangered by her acquaintance?”
The bear turned to regard him.
“Right. In fairness, your life would’ve ended horribly if not for her. And mine—” He frowned down at his wood clog stuck in the muck. “—mine would’ve stayed much the same. Cleaner but duller.” He pulled the clog out with a squelchy burp.
The bear ambled off in one direction, his thoughts in another.
“Life’s been dull, I’ll admit,” he said to himself and the bear. “My friends and I raised hell every day we could because no one was guaranteed another. Adjusting to peace has been a challenge.”
Bibendum clawed at the forest floor in another spot and stuck his nose into the loosened debris.
“I’m like the dust in my rooms, I exist on the surface. All I do is put myself on exhibit. Till recently, nothing stirred me up. Or elevated my pulse—except kissing the one person I shouldn’t.”
His laughter came so suddenly, the bear returned to him, ears perked.
“Yes, her.” He kicked a clot of dirt. “Who can anticipate what’ll happen next with her about? And God help me I like that. But keep that to yourself,” he admonished the bear. “Told you in strictest confidence.”
Seeing Bibendum’s quizzical expression, Seelye stopped to sketch him.
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