They were to pick the Reverend up from the vicarage en route, and as Jennifer climbed into the carriage, she made sure to be facing the front. Despite the clement weather, she was furnished with a hot brick in case her feet became chilled, and a blanket should she decide to take a nap. As the carriage door was shut, she cast a last look at her mother’s anxious face and leaned out of the open window. ‘I will only be away for a month, Mama,’ shelaughed. ‘You need not look as though you’re never going to see me again.’
‘Please do not tempt fate,’ Grace countered, gripping her daughter’s hand.
‘Truly, we are well protected,’ Jennifer protested, leaning out to give her mother one last kiss.
In fact, the main reason they were travelling without servants was the Duke’s conclusion that the provision of sufficient protection was more important than someone adept in the use of curling irons. Especially since there would be a full complement at Caerlaverock.
In addition to the four coach drivers, there were sixfootmen. In reality, the men were all retired sailors whom the Duke had personally trained to provide added protection for his family. On arrival at Caerlaverock, they would be accommodated in the nearby village of Banalan under the watchful eye of Chapman, their leader.
As well as the bogus footmen, both Malcolm and Peter were more than proficient swordsmen and marksmen and Jennifer herself was sufficiently skilled to hit a moving target. The drivers had been instructed to keep to the busy main roads and under no circumstances to travel outside of daylight hours.
In all honesty, as Peter muttered to Malcolm, the biggest danger to their health was sharing a carriage with the Reverend for five hundred miles…
‘Give Nicholas a hug from me when he gets back from Eton,’ Jennifer called out as the carriage pulled away. She watched in the small rear window as her parents grew ever smaller until the carriage turned a bend, and they were finally out of sight. Swivelling forward, Jennifer unexpectedly found herself blinking back tears. And they hadn’t even left Blackmore land yet.
Taking a kerchief from her reticule, she firmly dried her eyes, determined not to behave like a foolish little girl. In a few minutes, her grandfather would be joining her in the carriage, and she was entirely certain he’d waste no time before swiftly coaxing her out of her blue devils.
∞∞∞
Sitting on his trunk, watching the Blackmore carriages coming down the lane, the Reverend had the uncomfortable feeling that his life was about to change forever. Despite his bluff manner, Augustus Shackleford was no fool. He was well aware that the Duke of Blackmore would be watching Percy carefully during his absence.
He knew also that the time was fast approaching when he’d have to hang up his cassock for good. He didn’t know which was worse – the thought of spending all day every day with only Agnes for company or being consigned to the family pew for every service with no opportunity for a quick nap halfway through the sermon.
He could hear the faint sound of chanting coming from the church. They were halfway through the week of Whitsuntide and one or two of the faithful would be in the church every day. It meant that Percy wasn’t able to see him off. In some ways, the Reverend was relieved. He was only going away for a month after all, and the curate had already promised faithfully to keep him informed via a weekly letter.
Agnes of course had not yet risen from her bed, which just left Flossy.
He looked down at the little dog who wagged her tail encouragingly, reminding him that it wouldn’tjustbe him and Agnes... As the carriages approached, he bent down to pick herup, shrugging off his mawkish reverie. All was well. He’d already had a quick word with the Almighty and despite his feelings of disquiet, the Reverend was confident he was taking the right path.
Leaving his trunk to two of the burly footmen, he climbed through the open door of the second carriage, seating himself opposite the only other occupant.
‘Good morning, Grandfather,’ Jennifer murmured, with a small polite bend of her head.
As the carriage moved off, the Reverend regarded her with a pained sigh. ‘Tare an’ hounds, lass, it’s going to be a deuced long journey as it is without you sitting the whole way with a poker up your arse.’ And with that, he relinquished a wriggling Flossy who promptly threw herself ecstatically into his granddaughter’s arms.
With Flossy clambering all over her, Jennifer abandoned her attempts at graciousness and after finally managing to settle the little dog on her lap, gave a wicked grin. ‘Can you remember when you let slip about old Queen Charlotte’s mishap with the duck pond at Aunt Hope’s wedding?’ she recalled. ‘You said you’d tell me the truth of what happened when I became old enough.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, dearest Grandpapa, I think that time has finally come. However, feel free to take your time, after all, we have five hundred miles together. I can wait...’
Chapter Four
By the time the two carriages finally reached the shores of Loch Lomond over a sennight later, tempers were most definitely beginning to fray. The journey had been largely uneventful though slow as they’d sacrificed speed to retain the same horses throughout the journey. Jennifer had had no idea how difficult it was to simply pin one’s hair up. Truly she was beginning to resemble the scarecrow in Mrs. Higgins’s raspberry patch. And all her cajoling and pleading with her grandfather concerning Queen Charlotte’s mishap with the duck pond had been for nought. She could never have imagined the Reverend actually had it in him to be so closemouthed.
More worrying, however, was the fact that throughout the journey, he’d seemed determined to lecture her on various passages of the bible - mainly on the wages of debauchery, avarice, wrath and … what was the other one? Oh, sloth, that was it.
In truth, debauchery was a subject that had never really come up in their previous dealings. Jennifer thought for a second and came to the conclusion that neither had avarice, wrath or sloth. True, her grandfather most definitely enjoyed the finer things in life, had always relished a good sparring match and she could certainly vouch for the fact that he’d never had a particular problem with inactivity, aside from the times he was in a meddling mood.
But such was his zeal at the beginning of the journey, she couldn’t help wondering if he was becoming a little dicked in the nob. Fortunately, the further north they got, the more his enthusiasm for pointing her towards the light appeared to wane. Indeed, Jennifer noticed he seemed to be having an internal battle in particular with wrath - severely testing even Felicity’s legendary aplomb when he crossly declared the matron to be notoriously picksome and stomped off to get himself a third tankard of ale.
Of course, his action could also have been an indication he was losing his internal battle with debauchery…
After that, conversation between the five of them had gradually dwindled to monosyllables.
As Loch Lomond came into sight, Jennifer felt she’d never been so glad to see a body of water in her life. Excitedly she peered through the window trying to get a glimpse of Caerlaverock. She was sharing the carriage with Felicity as the matron had suggested they might wish to assist one another in repairing their toilette, declaring it would not do for them to arrive at their destination looking like tag-rag and bobtail.
Consequently, Jennifer’s hair was now adequately coiffured, and her dress still damp from the cloth Felicity used to remove the dust. As they turned a bend, the young woman gave a squeal and turned to her companion. ‘Is that Caerlaverock?’ she breathed, pointing to a large house standing on a craggy outcrop overlooking the loch.
Felicity leaned forward and gave a relieved nod. While she’d only visited Caerlaverock on one previous occasion, the memory of her visit had stayed with her ever since. It was seeing Malcolm’s sheer joy at being back in the home of his birth that had reaffirmed her feelings for the Scot.
