“It seems as though there will be three couples to find their way back to Willowbrook,” Jemima added, settling back in her seat.
“Three?” Hugo’s brows rose in question, before it suddenly dawned on him that he would be paired up with Harriett Ponsonby. “Great,” he muttered ruefully. Edward and Peter get the beautifully spirited sisters and I get the eccentric old witch.
CHAPTER SIX
Two days later, Jemima found herself seated on an old cart, barrelling down the rear driveway of Havistock Hall. A small, tattered bag holding a few of their personal belongings and a couple of changes of clothing was securely tied to the back.
Although the cart had been thoroughly checked and made safe, the hard wooden bench had little padding against the deep ruts in the service road that ran from the back of the house to the rear of the village.
Jemima glanced across at Peter, who held the reins in a casual grip. He looked so unlike the Peter she knew and loved, she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as she studied him.
His dark brown hair had been streaked with boot polish, making it completely black. Although there was little they could do about his broad shoulders and height, his elegant, and very expensive, clothing had been cast aside and replaced with well worn but serviceable servants’ clothing.
They had agreed that they would remain in disguise and would keep off the main roads as much as possible. Dressed as they were, anyone they passed would be less likely to remember them. They were simply a working couple, travelling in an old, worn-out cart.
Jemima was wearing one of the maids’ oldest and most worn dresses, which was too short in the sleeves and tattered around the edges. Her dark blonde hair was drawn back from her face, giving her an almost severe look. Her hair had also been liberally streaked with boot polish. They almost looked like brother and sister – almost.
Even the horse had been dressed for the occasion. Dominic had chosen one of his best horses, which had excellent breeding but clearly wasn’t a thoroughbred. Until this morning, Maverick had been happily munching grass in a field, not having seen a brush or a comb for several long weeks. His mane was tangled and his coat caked with mud. He looked like any other hard-working servant’s horse as he plodded along, effortlessly pulling the cart.
For the first time in a long while, Jemima was able to sit back and enjoy being out in the sunshine and fresh air, and she listened to the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves with a sigh of contentment.
“All right?” Peter murmured, having heard her sigh.
Jemima looked at him with a smile. “You know, I rather think I am,” she replied thoughtfully, wondering if it was the carriage ride she was enjoying or knowing that she was going to spend the next few days alone with Peter.
Havistock Hall was a wonderful house, if large. Yet it amazed her that, despite its size, there was very little opportunity to be alone.
“I wonder if Eliza and Edward are speaking yet,” Peter mused, throwing her a smile.
Jemima chuckled, remembering the fierce looks that had passed between the couple earlier that morning.
Eliza had opted to travel in the most inopportune manner, making it nearly impossible for Edward to spend any time alone with her without causing censure among the people they were likely to meet.
Although they had also decided to travel in disguise, rather than travelling as servants, they had opted to travel as a middle class couple.
Albeit, upon Eliza’s insistence, as brother and sister.
Despite Edward’s objections, Eliza had chosen an outfit suitable for a middle-aged spinster who was rather po-faced and stern. The neckline of her dress was so high that it nearly touched her chin and was of a dark, nondescript colour that was anything but flattering. Her shoes were block-type shoes with a solitary buckle on each. Her hair had been darkened using a cocoa powder mix that had turned her hair a murky, muddy brown colour. Unfortunately, it had also given it a slightly sweet, chocolatey scent that reminded Jemima of their old aunt Agatha: old and fusty, and somewhat cloying.
Jemima began to chuckle at the memory of Edward’s curses when he had first clapped eyes on the woman he was going to marry.
He had stared at her for several moments, before slowly walking aro
und her, eyeing her from head to foot as though she were a horse. His brows had gone up, then down, then up again as he tried to decide if he was prepared to accept her new appearance. Then he had sniffed, before moving closer and sniffing again. After several moments of quiet contemplation he moved to stand before her and took a deep breath. He then looked at her in horror.
“Good God, woman, they will think I like necrophilia!” His outburst had caused everyone to burst into fits of laughter that Edward had found far from funny.
Eliza had merely lifted her chin, glanced at him from the top of his head to the tips of his boots, and told him that was excellent news, as it was just the look she was aiming for.
Edward had been left to wear Manver’s old suit and tie. With his hair neatly combed and lightly greased, he looked like a middle-aged doctor.
The atmosphere in the house while they had been packing and making last-minute preparations had been frosty, mainly because Edward was angry at Eliza, not only for insisting she was going with them, but for making it nearly impossible for him to protect her in the way he wanted to. Jemima wondered if his annoyance was mostly because it would be impossible for them to share a room together.
Their carriage was more lavishly furnished than Jemima and Peter’s, but was still aged, and would do little to protect them should it start to rain, as it was starting to now.
Jemima tipped her head back, enjoying the soft tickle of raindrops on her face. It wasn’t heavy rain, more of a fine mist, and the moist coolness on her face felt wonderful.
Her eyes abruptly popped open and she stared at Peter’s hair in horror. “Oh no,” she gasped, eyeing the rainclouds in trepidation.