Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols
Emma left the cosiness of the warm room and the company of a gentleman she found strangely beguiling and made her way out to the coach, now with a different team of horses. Followed by Rose, she took her place and was taken aback when Lord Malvers’s servant climbed in and sat opposite her. Lord Malvers joined them and they were away again.
‘You have no objection to my travelling inside with you?’ he asked.
‘My lord, you must think me very particular and singularly lacking in conduct to object to anyone who has paid for his seat.’ She gave a little laugh and added, ‘Twice over.’
‘Then I shall take it you are content with my company.’ He smiled to put her at her ease, but she was wary of him, he could see it in her eyes, such big, expressive eyes. He turned to her companion. ‘What about you, Miss…I am sorry, you have the advantage of me.’
‘Turner,’ she said.
‘Well, Miss Turner, do you think you can suffer me to share your carriage?’
‘My carriage! Goodness, sir, what would I be doin’ with a carriage?’
‘Quite right. Prodigious expensive things they are to keep.’
‘Is that why you travel by public coach, my lord?’ Emma asked him, knowing he was throwing darts at her by teasing Rose. It behoved her to come to the maid’s rescue.
‘You think it miserly of me?’
‘I would never accuse you of miserliness, my lord. I was simply curious.’
‘Again?’
‘Touché.’ She laughed. ‘You do not have to answer me.’
‘No, but there is not much else to do is there? The countryside is too wet and bedraggled to be worth our attention, so we must fall back on conversation. Unless, of course, you prefer silence.’
‘No, my lord. By all means let us converse.’
‘Then I will tell you I did not bother to keep a carriage and horses in town and as my journey was urgent I had no time to go home for it.’
‘Home being in Norfolk?’
‘Yes. Buregreen. It is on the borders of Norfolk and Suffolk, quite near the sea. There are three farms, mainly arable, but with a fair acreage of grazing. Before the war they were productive, but last year the harvest was not good owing to bad weather and this year the climate has been the worst anyone can remember. I doubt there will be a yield at all.’
‘And yet you left it to go to London? Are you not happy at home, my lord?’
‘It is the place I most wish to be, but my mother, bless her dear heart, thought I should find me a wife.’
‘You are not married, then?’
‘No, Miss Draper, I am not. I never had the time or inclination for it.’ It was spoken so emphatically she wondered why he was so adamant.
‘And the London Season bores you.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You said so yourself, earlier today. Not to your taste, you said. Do you think you will find a bride in the Lakes?’
‘A mermaid, you mean, half-fish, half-woman.’
It was a moment before his meaning registered and then she laughed. ‘Do you always tease, my lord?’
‘Only if I think it will make you smile. It is better than being sombre, don’t you think? Life is too short to take seriously.’
‘We cannot always be laughing. There are times…’ She stopped, afraid to go on. He was looking at her with his head on one side, his blue eyes watching her, waiting for her to give herself away. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.
‘Yes,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Times of war, times of bereavement and loss, times when the situation of the poor breaks one’s heart and one is left fuming at the callousness of a society that lets them suffer. It is thinking of such things that demand solemnity.’
‘You evidently think very strongly on that subject.’
‘Yes. Don’t you? Or perhaps you have never had to think about it.’
He was fishing, she decided. ‘Of course I think about it and I wish I could help them, but it is not in my power.’
‘No, you are only Miss Fanny Draper, isn’t that what you told me?’
‘Yes, because that is my name.’
‘My dear girl, I am not disputing it.’ He waited for her reaction, an angry accusation of impertinence, not only for the way he had addressed her, but for doubting her honesty. For a fleeting second he saw it in her eyes and then it was gone.
She wanted to riposte, but decided against it; any show of hauteur might make him suspicious of the truth. It would be better to remain silent. The coach rattled on through a countryside uniformly wet and uninviting. The trees dripped, the roads were covered in mud, the potholes filled with water. There was nothing worth looking at. The inside of the coach was gloomy and she could not see her fellow travellers clearly. She had had hardly any sleep the night before and the swaying of the vehicle was soporific, making her eyes droop. She allowed herself to doze.
She awoke with a start when they stopped to change the horses again. It was like that all the way to Northampton; wake, nod, sleep, but at least they had left London and her stepfather far behind them. She wondered what Lord Malvers would think of her if he knew the truth. He might be disgusted. On the other hand, he might treat her flight as a missish prank and be ready to turn her in. He might also think that, just because she was travelling incognito on a public coach without an escort, he could take liberties. Not that he had tried; so far he had behaved impeccably, but they had a long way to go and anything could happen. Could she keep up this masquerade right to the end? She had to, so much depended on it.
They arrived at Northampton at six o’clock, an hour and a half behind schedule. Alex opened the door and jumped down, turning to help Emma, who was endeavouring to retie the ribbons of her bonnet. ‘There might be time for something to eat and drink, before we go on,’ he said. ‘Though we must make haste. I’m told we are only to be allowed a quarter of an hour.’
They had barely seen to their comfort and ordered tea and bread and butter, the only thing available in the limited time, when they were recalled to their seats. Alex, who had given in to her insistence that she pay for it, wrapped the uneaten food in a napkin and followed them out to the coach. As soon as they were on the way again, he produced the package and offered it to the girls.
‘How clever of you to think of that,’ Emma said, helping herself to a slice of bread and butter. ‘I never would.’
‘I learned in the army never to abandon food,’ he said, glad that her wariness of him had dissipated a little. ‘We never knew when our next meal would be. We often had to eat on the march.’
‘Surely, as an officer, you were not required to march? Were you not mounted?’
‘Some of the time, but I liked to march alongside my men. How could I ask them to walk until they were ready to drop if I did not do the same?’
‘I am sure they appreciated that.’
‘So they did, miss.’ This was said by his servant. ‘If the Major could keep going, so could we.’
‘It must be exciting, going to war,’ Emma said.
‘Exciting,’ Alex mused. ‘I suppose it was sometimes. Sometimes it was terrifying and often just plain boring.’
‘Boring?’
‘Between battles, when we were waiting for something to happen or when we were on a long march from one encounter with the enemy to the next.’
‘What did you do then?’