Page 15 of The MacGregor's Lady
“If only you weren’t so stubborn, Hannah. My brother tries merely to see to your welfare.”
“If it snows enough, we’ll be stranded at some inn. That would serve nicely, because I brought some of Lord Balfour’s books along. He has the nicest selection of novels.”
“Novels, bah. If only you were more given to the pursuits of a normal girl, Hannah. You’d be content to do embroidery and read improving pamphlets.”
Hannah let that pass, for she’d never been exactly sure how much of the Widmore debacle Aunt understood. They didn’t discuss it, and Aunt Enid brought it up only when she was running perilously low on sermon topics or wandering mentally after a surfeit of some tonic or nostrum.
“If the trains aren’t running, do you suppose his lordship will force us to travel in this wretched weather?” Enid asked.
Now that was a first, for Aunt to criticize anything remotely British, and they hadn’t even boarded their southbound train.
“I suspect, one way or another, we’ll start our journey as long as we have light,” Hannah said. In truth, the traveling coach was a great, lumbering conveyance, but it was well sprung and cozy enough. They’d brought hot bricks for the floor and hot water bottles for the ladies’ muffs, and because they would stop to change horses every twelve to fifteen miles, the interior would stay fairly comfortable.
If stuffy.
“Dear, can you reach my traveling bag?”
“You just had a dose of your tincture, Aunt, right before we left the house.”
“But I have the most awful head, Hannah. If only you understood such pain, not that I’d wish it on my worst enemy.”
“You need to be using less, Aunt, not more. How will you keep up with the social calendar I’m expected to maintain if you’re sleeping off your headache remedies until midday every day?”
“Hannah, one does sleep until midday when the Season is at its height. One dances until dawn, then sleeps until noon, and barely has time for a few morning calls before going out again in the evening. It’s marvelous!”
As if Hannah would be dancing.
Black-gloved knuckles rapped on the window beside Hannah’s face. She swung the glass down, a lovely blast of chilly air hitting her.
“We’ll be going overland for the first part of the journey,” his lordship informed her. He was mounted on a black horse that looked big enough to pull a plow, the beast’s trot churning snow up with every step. Despite the cold, the earl didn’t wear a hat. He had a woolen scarf about his neck, the pattern a bright red and dark green plaid with a thin white strip mixed in.
Beside Hannah, Enid squeaked, “But that’s—we cannot—my lord, you must understand that is not to be borne.”
“There’s a breakdown on the tracks south of the city. We’ll pick up the train in Bairk,” the earl said. “And we’ll have to move smartly if we’re to make that distance by nightfall.” He sent Hannah a look, one that warned her delays would not be tolerated and complaints were futile.
“But an entire day in this stuffy old—”
Hannah closed the window before Enid could finish her first volley of protest.
“I did not see a town named Bairk on the map,” Hannah said. “Perhaps it isn’t so very far.”
“Ber-wick, you foolish girl. Berwick-on-Tweed. It’s nearly sixty miles!” From Enid’s tone, this might as well have been halfway to the North Pole.
“If we change teams regularly, and the roads are well traveled, we could easily be there by nightfall, as the earl suggested.” Provided Hannah did not first do away with her aunt and force the coach to stop so she might dispose of the remains.
They had changed teams twice when the great, lumbering coach went swaying off to the side of the road. Something snapped loudly underneath, and the conveyance swung wildly, bumping along the snowy ground for a good twenty yards before coming to a canted halt.
“Oh, my! My goodness! Dearest, my remedies, please. The headache and the nerve tonic both.”
“Ladies!” The earl’s voice cut through Aunt’s ranting. “Is everyone of a piece in there?”
His voice came from above, from the road, and Hannah felt an undignified spike of relief to know he was about and uninjured.
“We’re fine,” she said, unlatching the window and lowering it. “A little tossed about, but well enough. What happened?”
“Snapped a wheel,” he said. “Probably hit a rock hidden by the snow, and it will take some work to repair it. You’re likely as warm as you can be in there, so sit tight until we get the team unhitched.”
Except unhitching the team took a good deal of time and cursing and rocking the vehicle about. The wheelers grew frantic when the leaders were walked off and the weight of the coach had to be balanced by only two horses. Hannah could hear Balfour’s voice as he crooned to the horses, a soothing patter that belied the rising wind and dropping temperatures.
