The Road to Gretna

by Carola Dunn

  "Nay, I s'll keep her ladyship company. Ye'd best put on a shawl, Penelope."

  "Yes, Angus. We shan't be long.” She preceded Jason out of the room. “I don't need a shawl, do I? It's still quite warm."

  He grinned at her. “I daresay you are capable of deciding for yourself."

  "Then let us go, while it's still light."

  "You don't mind if we take the dogs?"

  "I'd like that."

  He crossed the hall to a door by the stairway, opened it, and whistled. Champion bounded out to greet them with joyful exuberance, followed more sedately by his elderly companion, Honey.

  "She is retired from herding sheep,” Jason said, leading the way out through the front door. “Champion never managed to sit still long enough to learn. Never was a dog so misnamed."

  Penny laughed. “Ah, but he must be excused because of his charm.” Aware of the drawing-room windows behind her, she did not take his arm as they crossed the garden. “Your sisters are charming, too, and I do like your mother."

  "It's plain to see that they like you."

  "They are too kind to judge Henrietta by an unfortunate first impression, and I'm certain she will love them when she comes to know them. Appearance means a great deal to her and she was taken by surprise."

  He nodded, but with a sceptical look.

  The castle knoll was steep and she accepted his assistance to climb the zigzag path to the summit. Champion raced up and disappeared. Arriving breathless at the top, Penny gazed south-west across mile after mile of rolling green hills, descending into the valley. On the far side of the River Eden, rising slopes, marked with darker green patches of woodland, merged in the grey distance with the great humped ridges of the ancient mountains of the Lake District. Above, pink wisps of cloud floated, serene in the deep blue of an endless expanse of sky.

  Slowly Penny turned. To the north, close at hand, scattered stones and a single wall were all that remained of the castle. To the east rose the nearby fells with their rocky outcrops and swathes of purple heather. At their sheltering foot the house looked cosy and welcoming, lights showing now in several windows. And to complete the domestic scene, a gaggle of white geese honked and splashed in the little stream at the base of the knoll.

  Sighing, Penny glanced at Jason to find him watching her. “It's beautiful. How could anyone want to live in London? I'm so sorry Henrietta doesn't care for your home."

  "My father was of the same opinion.” The bitterness in his voice made her shiver. “Are you cold? Come over by the wall, out of the breeze."

  She sat on a stone, still warm from the sun, and leaned back against the solid bulk of the thick wall. For a moment he stood looking down at her, then he dropped to the grass to sprawl propped on one elbow. Plucking a daisy, he ruthlessly denuded it of pink-tipped petals. Honey came to lay her head on his crossed ankles. Penny remembered her first sight of him in daylight, elegant, sardonic, every inch the dashing beau.

  "Your father?” she asked tentatively.

  "My father hated and despised Newkirk.” Another daisy was despoiled. “He was a younger son, who never expected to inherit. The amusements of London were all he cared for. At most he showed his face here once a year, and those few days he spent railing against the isolation, the bleakness, the deficiencies of house and household."

  "Your mother lived with him in Town?"

  "Not after I was born. He had no interest in any of us, until I left school. Then he did his best to make me into a copy of himself. He taught me to scorn my home, but though I faithfully aped him, I never quite forgot my childhood, those happy school holidays with my mother and my sisters. When he died, I discovered that he had wrung every farthing from the estate, let it go to rack and ruin and sold off every inch of unentailed land."

  "Your mama and sisters were scrimping and saving and you never wondered how your fashionable life in London was paid for?” She couldn't keep a certain scorn from her voice.

  He sat up and clasped his hands around his knees, disturbing Honey, who looked at him in reproach and wandered over to slump against Penny's legs. She stroked the old dog's head, her gaze on Jason's rueful face.

  "I've never pretended to be a saint, Penny. I hardly ever saw them. I enjoyed the life of gaiety and dissipation and never questioned it. Even when he died, and I found myself with pockets to let, my only thought was to hide my straits and find a rich wife who would let me go on as before."

  "And your family?"

  "Give me credit, at least, for intending to pull them out of the slough as well as myself. I want to introduce Thea and Meg to Society, to find them respectable husbands, and to make my mother comfortable."

  "So you found Henrietta."

  "She is my last chance.” Jason ran his fingers through his dark hair, already ruffled by the evening breeze. “I don't know why I'm telling you this,” he went on wryly. “It is scarce calculated to raise me in your estimation. At first I looked for a bride no further than the ranks of the Ton. To marry a Cit was beneath my dignity."

  "I can understand that, though you cannot expect me to condone it!” Penny was glad to win a smile from him, however mocking. “Many of my schoolfellows were blue-blooded, and even at their friendliest there was always a distance. What made you change your mind? You couldn't find an eligible heiress?"

  "You know, I daresay, that the Polite World is a hotbed of gossip. It was impossible to keep my situation secret. I joined the ranks of the fortune-hunters against whom careful mamas warn their daughters, though I was still acceptable to Society in every other respect. I was ready to despair until I met Alison."

  She fought to keep the jealousy from her voice. “Alison?” Honey licked her hand.

  "An enchanting girl, brought up by her eccentric and lamentably bourgeois aunts. She inherited a fortune and had her Season, and I tried to abduct her."

  "Jason!"

  "I warned you that I'm no saint.” His tone was harsh. It was growing too dark to make out his expression.

  "The abduction didn't succeed,” she ventured.

  Unexpectedly he laughed, his teeth white in the twilight. “No, it turned into a circus. When I kidnapped her she had her dog, with her, a huge Newfoundland. The beast took exception to me, and though I might have disabled it without great difficulty, I discovered that I was not so much a villain as I had supposed. I let her go."

  "You loved her?"

  "Loved? No. I was fond of her and I would have done my best to be a good husband to her. She was a bewitching chit, and kind-hearted beyond belief. When she left, she gave me all the money she had in her pocket—eighteen pence—lest I should be in difficulties."

  "A shilling and two threepenny bits,” said Penny blankly.

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  "I thought it was a dream.” Hot all over with embarrassment, she was glad of the dusk to hide her scarlet cheeks.

  "That night at Ferrybridge? No dream.” Now his voice was full of laughter. He stretched out one hand towards her. “To remind me of the absurdity of Life I wear them on a chain ... under my shirt."

  To her relief, Champion gambolled up to them. By the time Jason finished tussling with him, she had regained her composure.

  He leaned back against the wall. “Since I'd borrowed a carriage to take Alison to Gretna, I drove on when she departed. I came here. It was then I realized how much Newkirk means to me, that I want to make my home here. I want to buy back the farms my father sold, bring in new breeding stock, even reopen the mines. There's silver in the hills, and iron and other metals. Alison had dispelled my objections to a parvenu bride, and so I found Henrietta. Mr. White is prepared to invest in both the sheep farming and the mining. Newkirk will thrive once more.''

  Penny winced at the reminder that tomorrow they would both be wed. “If only Henrietta appreciated Newkirk. I have never seen a place I liked better. I wish I didn't have to leave in the morning."

  "Must you go, Penny? Stay a little longer."

  CHAPTER EIGH
TEEN

  "I am not safe until I'm married.” Penny shuddered as the desperation she had held at bay attacked with renewed vigour.

  Champion laid his head in her lap. With a shaking hand, Penny fondled his ears. Jason reached up and took her other hand between his, calming and warming her.

  "Tell me about your uncle."

  "He's my mother's brother. My mother died when I was born and I hardly ever saw Uncle Vaughn. Papa didn't like him. He said he was a huckster who would never get rich because he was too apt to lose his temper and frighten people off."

  "Yet your father left you in his charge.” He sounded angry.

  "No! Papa would never have done that. The friend he named as my guardian died in the same accident as Papa, two years ago, and Uncle Vaughn was my only living relative. He and my aunt moved into the house before the funeral."

  "When you were too shattered to resist. My poor girl!"

  His sympathetic understanding steadied her. “He had dismissed half the servants before I realized what was going on, and hired his own in their place. My aunt had no maid so I shared Nancy, my abigail, with her. When Nancy found herself spending more and more time nursing her she complained that she had no time to look after me. My uncle dismissed her for impertinence."

  "Because she was attached to you."

  "She was my nurse before I went to school. I wrote her an excellent reference but I never heard what became of her. Uncle Vaughn claimed it was his duty to read all my letters before he gave them to me. And he considered it my duty to nurse my aunt, since she doesn't like strangers. I tried to hire a nurse, and a new abigail, but he found one pretext or another to reject every applicant. That was when I knew it was useless to try to stand against him."

  Reliving the terror of that realization, she started shaking again. In the dark Jason moved to share her stone seat and put his arm comfortingly about her shoulders. Distraught as she was, his closeness made her pulse flutter. She tried to wish he were her brother.

  "Your uncle won't let you marry Angus?” he asked gently.

  "Oh, he doesn't know about Angus. I scarcely know Angus myself.” She felt rather than heard his sudden intake of breath. “He is my aunt's doctor and he always seemed kind, dedicated to relieving suffering. I had no one else to turn to when Uncle Vaughn said I must marry Bartholomew."

  He expelled his pent breath in a long, silent sigh. “I see. I wondered where Cousin Bartholomew came into the story."

  "He's not really my cousin, he's my aunt's nephew, but he's completely under my uncle's thumb. If I were Bartholomew's wife, Uncle Vaughn would control my fortune."

  "So that's it! I'm surprised that he has waited so long, then. A year of mourning, perhaps, for the sake of observing the proprieties, though he doesn't sound the sort to care about such things, but..."

  "It's because of my father's will. Papa didn't want me to marry young. You see, my mother was only seventeen when she married, and then she died in childbirth. I think Papa felt he had robbed her. In any case, he wanted me to wait until I'm better able to choose, and so he arranged that if I wed before my twenty-first birthday, my husband will never have more than the income from my inheritance. My trustees—his law firm—will continue to control the capital. That's not good enough for Uncle Vaughn."

  "I begin to heartily dislike your uncle Vaughn."

  "Not as much as I do. He kept me from meeting anyone, first because of mourning, then using my aunt's illness as an excuse for not entertaining. But I shall be twenty-one next Wednesday. If I am still unwed then, and he catches me, I'll be tied to Bartholomew before you can snap your fingers."

  "Now I understand your haste. But he'll not find it so easy to—"

  "He has shown me the special license, and introduced me to his tame clergyman. Jason, he frightens me. Angus and I must leave at dawn tomorrow."

  In her urgency, she jumped to her feet, drawing yaps of protest from the dogs. Jason stood up, too. After a moment of heavy silence he said, “We ought to go in.” He took her arm and by starlight they made their way to the steep path.

  Champion pushed past her. She stumbled. Jason caught her in his strong arms, as he had—was it four days ago? It seemed like weeks. He pulled her against his chest and she felt the rapid beating of his heart. For a minute they stood stock still.

  "I have to marry her, you see that, don't you?” His voice was rough with some emotion she couldn't decipher. “Even though her father's coming ... We've been three nights on the road ... She trusted herself to me ... God knows I'm no saint, Penny, but I can't cry off now."

  "I know.” She broke away from him. “I know. Why do you think I've been trying to make you see her good points?"

  He laughed with genuine amusement. “It's ludicrous, isn't it? I should be on my knees thanking the Lord for my good fortune."

  How could he laugh? She wanted to weep, for him and for herself. She turned and hurried down the hill.

  She had just reached the bottom when a black figure appeared out of the darkness.

  "Penelope? Where the de'il hae ye been this lang while?"

  "One of the dogs knocked against me and I stumbled."

  It was true, but she felt guilty for misleading Angus, guiltier when he replied. “Are you hurt, my dear? Take my arm."

  She clung to him as they walked together to the house, Jason striding in silence on her other side, a good yard between them. Followed by the dogs, they went to the drawing-room, whither the other ladies had long since repaired. Champion frisked up to Thea and Honey slumped at Lady Kilmore's feet. Henrietta jumped up, her face stormy.

  "Jason, you let the dogs in without even knowing whether Lily is here."

  "Is she?” He raised quizzical eyebrows.

  "She might have been. And you have been gone this age."

  Penny tried to soothe the irate girl. “The castle ruins are very interesting, and the view magnificent. Lord Kilmore will show you tomorrow."

  "I do not wish to see. You know I do not care for castles, or for moors."

  Lady Kilmore exchanged a glance with Thea. They each took a dog by the collar and with apologetic murmurs moved towards the door.

  "Meg!” commanded her mother.

  Reluctantly Megan followed, pausing just inside the door to look at Penny with a question in her eyes. Penny shook her head; she had no intention of abandoning Jason to Henrietta's fury. Thea reached for Meg's arm and tugged her out of the room. Angus stayed, looking uncomfortable. Jason strolled to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle, his face noncommittal.

  "In fact,” said Henrietta ominously, “I hate castles and moors."

  "Everything will look better in the morning,” Penny assured her.

  "No, it will not. This house is paltry, and everything in it is about to fall to pieces.” She turned to Jason. “And your sisters are dowdy and they do not like me."

  Penny expected Jason to flare up in defence of his family, but though his eyes narrowed he didn't speak, so she said, “I'm sure Thea and Megan never said that they dislike you, Henrietta."

  "No, but you call them by their Christian names and they always call me Miss White, and they did look at me so when I told them I do not care for reading. And they never go to parties and there are no shops for miles and miles and miles and then they are the shabbiest in the world. I will not live here! Jason, I will not marry you.

  With his sardonic smile he looked down at her angry face and said, “That is your choice, my dear."

  Feeling limp, Penny dropped onto a sofa.

  "Look ye here noo, ma laird,” Angus expostulated, “ye canna cry off after journeying sae far wi’ the lassie, and wi'out a proper chaperon."

  "Jason didn't cry off,” Penny corrected him. “Henrietta did.” She couldn't understand why Jason was not fighting to retrieve his bride.

  "It is a woman's privilege to change her mind,” said Jason, sounding bored.

  "She doesna ken the consequences."

  "Henrietta,” Penny said, leaning fo
rward, “do you realize that if you return to London unwed you will be disgraced, your reputation in shreds?"

  "I do not care. I will not marry him!"

  "Penelope, we canna gang tae Gretna the morn's morning. ‘Tis impossible tae leave the lass alone in an unfriendly hoose."

  "It's not unfriendly, Angus. Lady Kilmore would never treat Henrietta coldly only because she's not going to be one of the family after all. We must be married tomorrow."

  "You can proceed on your way with a clear conscience, Knox,” Jason said mockingly. “Henrietta's father will join us here shortly."

  "Papa?” Henrietta's mouth fell agape. “But how ... But why...?"

  Her mingled incredulity and outrage made Penny laugh, somewhat hysterically. Henrietta glowered at her.

  "Ye are unkind, Penelope.” Angus was stiff with reproach. “'Tis nae the moment for levity."

  "It's not going to work,” Penny blurted out. “I can't marry you, Angus. We'll never understand each other and I'll only make you miserable. It's impossible—but what am I to do?” In a rush of despair she bent her head, her hands pressed to her cheeks.

  "Marry me,” said Jason in an unnatural voice. He cleared his throat as the others all stared at him. Then he stepped forward and knelt on one knee before Penny. “Do me the honour of becoming my wife."

  Her heart racing, Penny sought for words. Her mind was blank.

  Jason took a ring from his inside coat pocket and looked at it. His lips quirked. “No, this won't do. It will not fit, and besides, Mr. White paid for it. Here, Henrietta, give it back to your father."

  Henrietta shrieked and ran from the room.

  "I maun hope ye willna regret this day, Penelope,” said Angus heavily. “I didna think, when I—"

  "Dr. Knox?” Meg interrupted him, peeking into the room, her eyes bright with curiosity. “If you are not otherwise engaged, Mama wishes to ask your advice about an old woman she forgot to mention earlier."

  Penny felt the weight of Angus's gaze. It was quite impossible to raise her head to look at him. He sighed.

  "I shall be happy to advise her ladyship, Miss Megan.” He departed with a brisk, businesslike tread.