Velvet might find many things to disagree with when dealing with Alex Gordon, but his care of their horses was not going to be one of them. She had been raised to have a great respect for horses by her parents who, once they had been removed from their seafaring activities by Elizabeth Tudor when they were forced to makeQueen’s Malverntheir home, had raised horses during most of the years of her youth.
Travel, even in this enlightened day and age, was not easy. Velvet was rather surprised that Alex would undertake such a long journey with two women along without an armed escort. The farther you journeyed from London, the less safe the roads became. Two men, two women, four horses. It seemed dangerous, even foolish. The horses would be their most precious possession. No, Velvet wasn’t going to argue with him this time. Besides, the slower they went, the faster Robin could catch up with them.
Velvet settled herself in her saddle and concentrated on learning the whims and ways of her new mare. She quickly found that Sable was beautifully trained, needing only the lightest touch of the rein to bring her to obedience. “What a lovely little creature Sable is,” she exclaimed. “Her manners are perfect. Who trained her?”
“I did,” Alex replied. “She’s very spirited, but then I’ve always had a way with skittish females, I’m told.” He grinned rather impudently at her.
Velvet tossed her head. “We’ll see, my lord, how good you really are,” was her sharp retort.
They rode the twenty miles between London and St. Albans, stopping after sunset at the Queen’s Head Inn. St. Albans was a lovely town on a hill overlooking the Ver River. Although there had originally been a Roman settlement on the site, the present town had grown up around the great abbey that had been built by Offa, king of Mercia, after the departure of the Romans. He had used the stones from the Roman town to raise up the religious house, and then he had named it after Britain’s first Christian martyr.
Velvet, however, was in no mood to remember her history. It had been a long time since she had ridden for such a long distance, and she found her legs, and other more delicate parts of her anatomy, quite sore. There were only two things that she wanted: a bath and a soft bed. They were fortunate in that the inn, although a popular one, was not crowded. They were able to obtain two rooms and a private parlor in which to take their meals. While Dugald saw to the horses, Pansy saw that her mistress had a good hot bath. She then wrapped Velvet in the silk nightshift she had packed and tucked her into bed.
“Tell his lordship that I shall not be joining him for supper, Pansy. I shall take a bit of capon and some wine right here.”
Pansy curtsied, then informed the earl that her mistress was extremely fatigued from their ride and would be dining in her bed.
Alex smiled to himself. Obviously being a Maid of Honor, and one of the darlings of Elizabeth’s court, did not prepare a lass for a long ride. She’d be well used to it, he thought, by the time they reachedDun Broc.
The following day dawned wet and dreary, but despite the weather they reached Northampton by nightfall. The rain continued for two more days during which time they passed through Leicester and Derby. The fourth day of their journey dawned bright and sunny, and they rode farther that day than they had in the previous two.
That evening at Sheffield’s Rose and Crown inn Alex told Velvet that this ancient English town, famous for its cutlery, had been the place where Mary, Queen of Scots had been imprisoned for fourteen years. Looking up at Sheffield Castle as they rode away from the town the following morning, Velvet shivered, thinking of that wretched queen.
It was five and a half days since they had left London. They were nearly two hundred miles from the city and Velvet was growing increasingly nervous with each mile that passed.Where was Robin?Then she soothed herself with logic. Traveling at top speeds, it would take at least two days for the footman to reachLynmouth.It would take two days for Robin to return to London, and two to three days more for him to catch up with them. However, each mile they traveled was another mile for him, too. It would be a losing battle unless she could get Alex to stop somewhere along their route, thus giving her brother time to reach them.
They arrived at York and put up at the Bishop’s Mitre Inn. It was a luxurious place overlooking the junction of the Ouse and the Foss rivers just outside the walls of the medieval part of the town. Velvet, who had taken her supper in bed since they had begun their journey, this night made the effort to dine with Lord Gordon.
“I am embarrassed to come before you dressed in my riding clothes, but I suspect I am a great deal more respectable than if I wore my only other garment, my nightshift.” She smiled wryly at him.
“You are growing used to our pace now?” he questioned her. “Aye, my lord. My poor bottom is well used to my saddle by now.”
He chuckled at her small attempt at humor. Perhaps she was becoming more tractable although she had hardly spoken to him at all during their journey.
“It would be nice to have a day out of the saddle, however,” she continued. “Might we stay in York a short while? I am told the cathedral is magnificent, with more stained glass than any other church in all of England.”
“We have several more days ahead of us, Velvet, before we even reach Scotland. I have told you that winter comes early in the Highlands.”
She sighed deeply. “Would just one day matter?”
He thought a moment. One day could matter very much, and yet she looked so disappointed. He wanted to please her. He wanted them to have that same relaxed and pleasant relationship they had once had. Perhaps humoring her would help. “Very well,” he said, “but just one day.”
Early the following morning, Pansy was up and out to an open-air market where she managed to purchase secondhand a respectable dark green velvet skirt that her mistress could wear and that would cover Velvet’s riding boots as she walked about York. It was a plain garment but her mistress certainly could not wear her riding skirt in town.
After a breakfast of steaming oat porridge that had been served with heavy cream and honey, a hot cottage loaf that was offered with a crock of sweet butter, peach jam, or cheese, brown ale for Alex, and watered wine for Velvet, they left the inn to visit the cathedral. Despite her anger at being dragged from London, and her fear of marriage to this strong, fierce man, Velvet was as excited as any sightseer. Educated in the history of her country, she knew that next to Canterbury, York Minster, originally called St. Peter’s, was the most famous cathedral in all of England. It was built between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, but its soaring towers only dated from the previous century. It was one of the loveliest examples of Gothic architecture in all of Christendom.
Velvet, who, unlike most of York’s pilgrims who came simply to pray to the saints, had a rare appreciation of beauty in art, found the north transept of the cathedral with its magnificent stained-glass windows beautiful beyond all. She was in transports over the wood vaulting in the nave of the cathedral and simply fell in love with the exquisite Lady Chapel. Alex, who had seen York Minster before, now saw it through her eyes with a new enthusiasm, and was enchanted at this different aspect he had found in this child bride of his.
Leaving the cathedral, they walked through the old part of the city with its narrow and winding medieval streets. This ancient part of York was surrounded by the original wall of the city with its four gates. It was a lovely, cool autumn day, and Alex found that he was glad he had stopped their journey in midflight. Velvet was more relaxed and chatty than he had seen her in weeks. Rather than return to the inn at midday, they bought sausage, bread, and cider from street vendors and sat by the banks of the river. Each carefully avoided the subject of their marriage: Alex, not wanting to fight with Velvet again, and Velvet, not wanting to spoil the day lest he insist they go on their way once more. Every hour they remained in York was an hour closer to her rescue by her brother. Surely Robin would come tomorrow or the next day.
Velvet’s heart sank when Alex announced that they would retire early that night because he wished to ride out before sunrise.
“We can’t make up for this lost day, but we’ll be a bit farther on than if we started later,” he said.
“How far will we ride tomorrow, my lord?” she asked him, afraid of the answer.
“I should like to make Hexham. If we do, then we shall be able to cross the border into Scotland the day after tomorrow.”
Alone with Pansy, Velvet fretted, “Where is Robin? It is a week since we left London. He should be here now!”
