Barlow squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, Mr. Carver. We all are. Our story brought us here today, but now it propels us toward the next chapter in the tale, the next thread in the tapestry.”
The soldier nodded. “And where is that?”
“Hesket and Penrith, it seems,” said Adam. “We must follow the Roman Road to long-hallowed grounds of ancient giants, whatever that means.”
Relieved that Barlow’s explanation had apparently mollified the guards, Jane inhaled deeply to breathe a sigh. It brought the sickly scent of sea salt, road dust, and small swine. She wrinkled her nose.
“I agree, Mr. Ashford. However, if I do not first bathe, I shall become the subject of a much less flattering story.”
Chapter Twelve
Adam was waiting patiently with Mr. Barlow at the stable adjacent the inn when Jane and Hester arrived. He immediately scratched his chin in befuddlement. Although he felt refreshed after washing up, the grime of the journey still lay heavily upon him. Jane, on the other hand, seemed as fresh as morning milk. How had she managed such a feat in so little time? To worsen matters, her smile disarmed him, preventing any line of questioning on the mystery. Instead, it was she who offered first greetings.
“Mr. Ashford. Mr. Barlow. For what reason did you ask us to meet you here?”
Adam motioned to Barlow. “Our erstwhile traveling companion wishes to purchase a horse.”
The women regarded Barlow with creased brows. Jane cocked her head. “One horse?”
“Yes,” Barlow replied.
Hester’s face drew blank. “Foryouto ride?”
The emphasis on the wordyoucarried with it the weight of her disappointment in him. He must have realized her assumption, for his eyes flew wide. “Why, no, Mrs. Byrd! Why would you hold such a low opinion of me?”
She frowned as if reprimanding a child. “Oh, I don’t know. Your purchased berth on theWayfarer, perhaps?”
His cheeks flushed and he dipped his head. “I deserve your critique, then. I beg your forgiveness for my insensitive decision earlier. If I had known you better, I might have behaved more appropriately.”
Sympathy for the man nudged Adam to intervene on his behalf. “I explained to Mr. Barlow that dragging our baggage twenty miles to Penrith would slow our progress so significantly as to risk failure. I further explained that renting a horse would be prudent but would drain much of my remaining funds. Suddenly, Mr. Barlow took an interest in a particular stallion, claiming that he had been in the market for a horse. Before I could blink, he bought the silly animal. And before I could protest, he offered said animal to haul our baggage for the duration of the journey. I insisted on paying him for the horse’s services, but he will accept only one shilling per day.”
Hester’s eyes brightened. “Why, Mr. Barlow. It seems we owe you our thanks.”
He lifted his chin. “As Mr. Ashford said, I was simply in the market for a horse and saw no reason to forego income from the purchase.”
Jane laughed. “If you say so, sir. Such behavior is very unbecoming of a solicitor, though. Your kind gesture may put at risk your heartless reputation.”
“I never claimed to be heartless, but merely relentlessly motivated. Why people confuse the two is beyond me.”
Jane cut her eyes to Adam and grinned wryly. “Good point. It seems that relentless motivation may be misconstrued for a great many poor behaviors.”
Adam grunted. “If only we could put aside expecting the worst of others, then perhaps they might surprise us.”
“Yes. If only.”
…
Adam dragged the stubborn chestnut horse behind him, understanding now why the stable master had accepted such a low price from Mr. Barlow. As Adam trailed the others, the animal repeatedly nipped at his hat and coat from behind. Meanwhile, his traveling companions appeared oblivious to his trials and travails, instead focusing on the road ahead. While they watched the road, however, Adam had eyes only for Jane. She engaged in lively conversation with her aunt and Barlow, commenting on the clean brisk air, the beauty of the countryside, and the pure nature of the River Petteril that the road followed. She did not seem the monster he had constructed in his head over the years. In fact, she even appeared different than she had aboard ship. Had she changed? Or had he? Lost in his ruminations, he did not sense the horse’s latest attack until it snatched his tricorne hat.
“Blasted beast!” He forcefully retrieved his hat from grinning teeth. The horse neighed with satisfaction. When he turned again toward the road, Jane’s presence brought him up short. She smiled broadly.
“Having trouble with the horse, Mr. Ashford?”
He shook his head. “I fear it is not so much a horse as perhaps a minion of the devil.”
“Really? A minion of the devil?” She reached to caress the horse’s nose, but it nipped at her outstretched fingers. She snatched them back and seemed to count them to make sure the animal had not taken any. Her brow drew down as she glared at the animal. “Beelzebub, it is, then. I cannot think of a more fitting name.”
Adam smiled. “Beelzebub. Prince of demons. Perfect. At least we are not required to ride him. Otherwise, he might carry us straight through the gates of Hell.”
