Madhouse Bride 12

 

Chapter 12

 

The weather was grey, like the landscape, but Julian smiled at Anne.

“Well, you know what they say; no sun, no warmth, no colour, November. But we have colour and warmth in our love and our travelling companions. Your face makes the sun shine for me.”

“It’s probably Spanish coin, but I shan’t disparage it to cheer up the proceedings,” said Anne. “You are a stalwart protector, a home to run to. You may have a smile like an angel, but in weather like this, you are what I need; a comforting fire and slippers with London crumpets dripping in butter, and hot chocolate.”

“Now, that’s true love,” said Julian, dropping a chaste kiss on her lips. “Dripping with butter? Excellent. We shall have crumpets as soon as we get home, Mrs. Watkins makes crumpets to die for, and the butter sinks into all the little holes and makes an unholy mess when you bite into them.”

“The best kind of crumpets,” said Anne, happily. “Papa was always deeply suspicious of crumpets; he was too French to enjoy them properly, but Mama and I ate them for nursery tea.”

“And did you lick your fingers?” asked Julian.

“That’s the only way to eat crumpets,” said Anne.

They shared a conspiratorial smirk.

And then, they were on the road, ignoring the buffets of the wind to the side of the coaches, the steady teams capable of holding their line. Jem and Julian both jumped down for the ascent of Alconbury hill, going to the heads of the horses to encourage them. “Joseph, do you need Meggie and me to get out?” called Anne.

“No, milady, the team care nothing for two slips o’ girls like you,” said Joseph. “I’ll be glad o’ your weight when the wind hits at the top.”

The wind did hit hard at the top, and the coaches tried to fishtail.

“Joseph, I’m going to use the emergency brake as well as the fitted one as we go down,” said Julian, not bothering to even consider stopping at the busy ‘Wheatsheaf’ inn at the summit. “We’re veering left, rather than have a ferry crossing later.”

Jem, seeing what his master did, also got out the emergency brake, a spade-shaped implement to slow the rear wheel.  The journey down the hill was accomplished without incident, peeling off to the west onto the Great North Road.

“Next stop, barring accidents, Grantham,” said Julian.

“Five-and-forty miles,” said Joseph. “It’s a hem long way.”

“Joey went on with the nags to Stilton, and the money to hire more.  With the change of horses, we’ll do it if the weather doesn’t worsen.”

“Ar, well, now you’ve put the mockers on it, milord,” said Joseph, reproachfully.

 

 

oOoOo

 

In Baldock, Denver and Wilcox fell out of their less comfortable beds in a much less sunny mood, and resumed the high perch phaeton where the buffeting wind felt uncomfortably dangerous.

“We ain’t going to catch them,” said Wilcox.

“We have to catch them,” said Denver, in desperation. “I need the wench’s money to pay off the mortgage.” He fought the reins as the light, sporting carriage was blown sideways in a sudden gust. “Devil take this wind!” he growled.

 

oOoOo

 

 

Squally showers made the journey unpleasant, but they were fortunately not of long duration or too heavy. Julian called a halt.

“We’ll take turns being inside the rear coach to warm up,” he said. “One coachman on the box at a time. And it’s Joseph’s turn inside.”

He and Jem drove on for the next hour, then changed places; and the horses plodded on without enthusiasm. Julian made the stops at inns, so everyone might have a hot cup of tea or coffee, and the horses have a rub down and a rest, with some bran mash. By this method they came to Stilton at midday, where Joey was to change the horses for the original teams.

“All my own nags now,” said Julian. “We can probably afford to slow a bit after Stamford, and not need you to keep going on, Joey, lad. No man could have done a better job than you have.”

As it happened, the weather improved after a light luncheon, which did not include the famous cheese. Joseph and Robbie drove, so that Meggie could spend some time with Jem, and Anne could be private with Julian.

“It’s a lot hillier now,” remarked Anne.

“Yes, and we shall skirt the Pennines,” said Julian. “We are making smalltalk.”

“Yes, but smalltalk is a way to get to know each other, too,” said Anne. “I already know that you will want a couple of sons, to make sure of the succession, so I do not need to ask if you want children.”

“Rather ask if I feel ready for fatherhood, which I confess, I am not sure about,” said Julian. “A child is a big responsibility.”

“But if you recognise that, I should think that you are ready to live up to it,” said Anne. “What was the best of things you remember about your father?”

“He gave me time, even though he was busy,” said Julian, instantly.  “He did not want Mama and me following the drum, but when he was at home, he spent time with me as well as with Mama. And he wrote to me in separate letters.”

“And you still miss him,” said Anne, seeing dampness in Julian’s eyes.

“I do,” said Julian. “I suppose I try to fool myself that he’s just on campaign and will be back. But he won’t.  I was lucky that he was around most of the time until the peace of Amiens, when I was twelve; but he transferred to a more active unit, as he felt it was his duty.”

“I am glad he stayed with you a lot,” said Anne.  “You’ve never felt the call to the military?”

“No, and father didn’t want me to do so,” said Julian. “His father had more or less expected it of him; Papa was the second son, and Lucius the third. Julius, after whom I am named, died unexpectedly of pleurisy, contracted after chasing poachers in the woods, and being shot in the chest.  Papa promptly moved into the militia to marry and raise a family as duty to the family, but he had come to love the army.”

“Poachers, or Lucius?” asked Anne, cynically.

Julian looked startled.

“You know, I wouldn’t put it past Lucius, not expecting my father to put family above my duty to the army,” said Julian.  “After all, there was a good chance he would die abroad somewhere.  And Mama was never very strong; she could not have any more babies. I suspect Lucius hoped I would continue to be as sickly as I was when I was small.”

“I am glad you defeated him. I want to make sure he has no hopes of succeeding to the viscounty; every son you have pushes him further away, and makes sure that killing you becomes more futile.”

“That’s a good point,” agreed Julian. “How are you holding up?”

“Well enough. Even your excellent springs become a little wearisome after a while though.”

“Come and sit on my lap, then, and let me absorb some of the bumps.”

“I think I will like that, for a while,” said Anne. “A change of position; though I suspect your very muscular legs will feel hard after a while, and moreover, it will be uncomfortable for you.”

“In more ways than one, and it is not just my legs that will be hard, my love, but it is at least a distraction.”

Anne flushed.

“I have some idea what you mean, though my knowledge is hazy,” she said.

“Oh, we can work out the practicalities of it when we are wed,” said Julian. “But little Julian has no idea of decorum and will try to say ‘hello’ to you.”

“Oh!” said Anne, not sure what else to say.

 

Meggie was also attempting the expedient of sitting on Jem’s lap, but she had a somewhat better idea of how things worked, and exactly how to wriggle.

“You want to watch it, my girl, or it’ll drop off in disappointment,” said Jem.

 

 

The lovers separated again at the Haycock in Wansford, to give Robbie and Joseph a rest, though the weather was finer.

“I believe I shall come and sit up beside you for a while, Julian,” said Anne. “I am very stuffy, and I should like some air.”

“And will you sit with me, Meggie?” asked Jem.

Meggie sniffed.

“I might as well,” she said. “For an hour or so.”

“I was not considering riding outside for any longer, myself,” said Anne.

They crossed the narrow stone bridge out of Wansford.

“It used to have thirteen arches, but ice damage in the seventeen-nineties meant they knocked a few arches together to make it ten,” said Julian. “It’s very old; sixteenth century, I believe. Not a good place to have an accident, but more likely coming back the other way, as there’s a steep hill and rather unexpected curve. Fortunately, the turnpike slows most traffic. But please concentrate on getting out the money for the toll at the other side of the bridge; sometimes there are some distressing instances of crashes.”

“Thank you for warning me, Julian,” said Anne. She concentrated on mustering the three shillings to cover the toll for both coaches, at fourpence-ha’penny per horse. Then they were on the long, slow incline to Stamford, past the long brick wall around the property of the Lords of Burleigh, the earldom still in the hands of the Cecil family.  

Having breasted the rise of the hill, it was downhill into Stamford, on a broad road, dominated by the tower of a church, between gracious modern buildings, and under the sign of the George Inn, which straddled the road so nobody might miss it.

“They say Charles the First stayed here, as well as ‘Butcher’ Cumberland,” said Julian, cheerfully as he turned in to the inn yard.  “Only a couple of hours from Grantham, now, my lady, but I thought you might like to make yourself comfortable and sit inside with Meggie to drink tea while we pamper the horses a little.”

“That would be very nice,” said Anne. “So long as I do not have to consort with either King Charles nor the Duke of Cumberland. Both being long dead. I think it would be impolite of them to turn up.”

“I think we can safely assume that both are consigned to the afterlife; though whether they went up, or down, I should not like to guess,” said Julian.

Anne sniggered.

“Oh, down, for both of them,” she said, cheerfully.

Anne felt better for the change of position and a breath of fresh air, and so did Meggie; and it may be said that they made a bed of quilts on the floor of the coach to share each other’s body heat and that of a hot brick procured at the George, and slept the whole way into Grantham.

 

 

oOoOo

 

The phaeton in which Denver and Wilcox were travelling was a fast vehicle, and light enough to make the horses pull readily, when not spooked by gusts of wind rocking the vehicle, and the two men made good time.  It was perhaps unfortunate for them that they tried to breast the height of Alconbury Hill at the end of the day, when the horses were tired, after being pushed some five-and-thirty miles. Denver knew enough to rest his horses, but without the forethought to provide them with warm bran mash with salt and honey, and with an inferior team, the horses were flagging, and refused the hill point blank.  The pursuers had no choice but to turn, and descend into Huntingdon for the night.

“The government ought not to allow hills like that,” said Denver, irritably.  “A good bit of powder would surely bring it down.  Like all those mountains, it’s damned untidy.”

“I’m not sure there’s enough gunpowder in the realm,” said Wilcox.

“Well, they could get navvies to flatten things out,” said Denver. “I wonder how far they got.”

“We must be gaining on them with such a good sporting vehicle,” said Wilcox. “Depend upon it, we shall catch them tomorrow.”

He did not believe for one moment that it would be that simple, but he had to keep Denver sweet.

Wilcox loathed horses and did not know how to drive; which, as a nominal gentleman, Denver had learned in his youth. And it was fortunate that they had not taken a team of Julian’s horses, since Denver had about as much chance of controlling a high-bred team of sweet goers as he had of being elected Pope.

Wilcox, however, had the forethought to ask about the young couple.

“Oh, are you trying to catch up with Ravenscar and Lady Ravenscar?” asked the groom he asked. “I couldn’t help recognising his phaeton.  If there’s a problem, for a consideration, I’d take a horse and ride through the night to try to catch them.”

“Oh, no need for that,” said Wilcox.  “Just carrying some things his lordship forgot. Are they much ahead of us?”

“Only a day or so,” said the talkative groom. “They were hoping to make Grantham, no, sir, please don’t impoverish yourself as you plainly can’t afford more of a vail.”

He turned down the groat which Wilcox offered, disgusted at such stinginess.  Indeed, the two men did not seem to fit in with Ravenscar’s other servants, and the horses were not even a hired team.

The perspicacious groom took it upon himself to send the stable lad to ride through the night with the news that two men whom he did not feel were gentlemen, nor yet by way of being his lordship’s servants, were in pursuit, and with Ravenscar’s own phaeton, and catch his lordship before he left. The boy, who was his son, was likely to receive generous largesse from his lordship, and would doubtless share it with his father.

 

“They said ‘her ladyship,’” said Wilcox. “If they are already married, this is for nothing.”

“They haven’t had time to set up the banns, nor even to have residency for an ordinary licence, and I doubt Ravenscar would get a special licence,” said Denver. “Anyway, why else would they be heading north but to go to Gretna?  It has to be a subterfuge to stop people looking at Anne askance.”

Wilcox acknowledged the likely truth in that.

They arranged to be woken early, to get on the road as soon as possible.