Page 9 of Rogue of the Greenwood
Mr. Gisborn had not brought along the usual four-seater Locksley landau with the familiar driver in green livery. No, Mr. Gisborn and Mr. Reeve had arrived to collect the ladies in something new—twothingsnew. They each drove a shining new curricle with dashing matched teams! Quite proud of them, too, they seemed.
Meg had oooed and aaahed over them and Marianne pretended to appreciate their sleek craftsmanship and the fine horseflesh, but in fact all she could concentrate on was the fact that she would be riding alone with Mr. Gisborn. Instead of a pleasant drive with both couples chatting peaceably in one carriage, Marianne would be subjected to an afternoon occupying Mr. Gisborn all on her own.
This could only mean one thing: he would haveample opportunity for proposing. And she would be expected to give him an answer! Oh, but she was not at all ready for that.
She dawdled as long as she could, going back into the house for her gloves, then changing her bonnet, then claiming she needed to collect her quiver and bow in case they thought to do some archery along the way. The others were quite frustrated with her, but she did not give up. She posted her letter as slowly as was humanly possible, and even invented the need to visit a shop for a packet of pins, but finally she could not avoid the inevitable.
Their errands in Nottingham were done and the gentlemen drove them out of the safety of the bustling town and out into the quiet—and lonely—countryside. With the sun in the sky and no one but grazing sheep to overhear their conversation, Marianne nattered on about the weather, about a recent book she had read, about anything she could think of. After a while, she was running out of benign prattle and worried that at any moment Mr. Gisborn might shift to more personal topics.
They rode in the open air, the fine leather hood of the curricle folded down on such a nice day as this. Marianne kept peering over it, watching Mr. Reeve’s carriage as it lagged farther and farther behind them. Occasionally she called out to Meg, acting as if they were indeed a party of four rather than two separate couples. Mr. Reeve responded by slowing his horses even more, allowing quite a gap to build between them. Not what Marianne had wanted, though Meg didn’t seem to mind.
The road was nearly empty today; they had passed but one coach on their way. As it rumbled along, backtoward the town, Marianne realized they were getting farther and farther away from a secure situation. With Mr. Reeve lagging behind and Mr. Gisborn so very closeby, Marianne’s nerves began to worry.
Ah, but then she had an idea; the perfect way to avoid a proposal! She knew exactly how to distract Mr. Gisborn and to keep the two carriages together. She would make a proposal of her own!
“Oh, with both of you driving such fine carriages, I know what we should do,” she cried suddenly. “Let’s have a race!”
Mr. Gisborn was immediately intrigued. “A race?”
“Of course! Your curricle is so fine, and your horses quite fresh, why not put them to the test? See, the road here is wide and there’s no one else to obscure the way. A race would be just the thing!”
He couldn’t deny his obvious interest in her suggestion and quickly slowed his horse to allow Mr. Reeve to catch them up. The other gentleman was as ready for a go as Mr. Gisborn. They discussed the possible course and agreed the race would go all the way through the forest to Greenwood Manor, which had been their ultimate destination, where they would have a picnic. Marianne was quite pleased with herself for her clever plan. For now, at least, she would not have to answer any life-altering questions.
The men guided their teams into position. Meg’s wide eyes showed nervousness and seemed quite unsure of this notion. Marianne felt a moment of regret; she had forgotten that Meg was far less adventurous than she was. Perhaps it had been unfair to suggest a race.
It was too late for regret, however. Mr. Gisborn gave Mr. Reeve the rights to call “go!” and the burlysheriff did so in a booming voice. The horses flinched, then leaped into action. Both curricles lurched forward in a rattling cloud of dust.
Ah, but Marianne did love a good race! She leaned forward, watching Mr. Gisborn’s hands on the reins and noting that he was, indeed, a passable driver. She would have perhaps given the horses a bit more encouragement, but Papa had always told her she was too reckless. It had not stopped him from allowing her to drive his carriage upon occasion, though. How she missed her father and freedom that being his daughter had often allowed her.
They clattered along and Marianne grinned as the wind whipped at her bonnet and bits of dirt flung up onto her skirts. Her heart pounded with the thrill of speed and she watched hedges whiz by. Mr. Gisborn’s carriage sped forward, passing Mr. Reeve and barreling down the slight grade of a hill.
At the bottom of the hill the road broke into a fork. One fork went off to follow the banks of the River Trent. The other fork veered away into the trees, trailing into the forest until it quickly disappeared. The carriage barely altered its hurried pace as Mr. Gisborn selected that fork, angling away from the river and racing into the shadowy embrace of Sherwood.
Mr. Reeve’s carriage, she noted, was not going nearly as fast as theirs. Nor did he follow them into the trees. Instead, his carriage veered the other direction, taking the fork that would lead along the river.
Almost instantly Marianne felt the first pangs of worry. Perhaps this race had not been such a brilliant idea, after all! Instead of removing Mr. Gisborn’swindow of opportunity, she had helped to fling it open wide.
She made an involuntary gasp as she realized her own folly. Mr. Gisborn took this as a sign that she needed his comfort. He quickly slowed his horses and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her far too close to his side.
“Have I frightened you, my dear?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she replied quickly even as alarms rang loudly inside her head. “I was just wondering why we have gone this way and Mr. Reeve has gone the other. How can it be a race if we are on different courses?”
He leaned toward her with a darkly mischievous grin. “That would depend on the goal of the race, my dear.”
She pulled nervously away, glancing over her shoulder and hoping to see Meg—or anyone—coming along the road behind them. She did not. No living creatures besides the birds in the trees and an occasional squirrel rustling in the leaves. The curricle rolled to a stop.
Oh, but she was painfully alone with the man now and he had a certain look about him. A look that made her feel a bit like a silly moth who had fluttered too close to the spider’s web and been caught in it.
He was going to propose! She could just feel it, could practically hear him utter the words. Worse, she could practically hear her response. She was expected to sayyes.
Well, she was not caught yet. She would not have to give answer if he never had the chance to ask the question! She simply needed to be resourceful…
“I say, what is that over there?” she askedsuddenly, pointing off into the forest.
“What? Where?” he questioned, obediently looking in the direction she indicated.
“Well, it’s a… er, I believe it’s a bird. Yes, I saw a bird.”
