“It’s a most vulgar garment,n’est-ce pas?But warm.” Then, less confident than she pretended, she set out to meet her fate, cat basket in one hand, canvas bag in the other, and ostrich feathers trailing behind.
* * *
Reluctantly Nicole left the warmth of the Saracen’s Head Inn for the damp, bitter chill of the stable yard, where the curricle waited with a fresh pair of horses. As he held the door for her, Philip said, “It’s getting colder. Do you think you’ll be all right? I know this is not the season for a long trip in an open carriage, but this is the last stage. Towcester is less than fifteen miles from Winstead.”
Nicole ached with weariness. Philip must be at least as tired, for it took strength, skill, and continuous concentration to drive safely over the winter-rutted roads. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “You have made the trip such a comfortable one. Fresh hot bricks every time the horses are changed.Quelleluxury! And this is the third time we’ve stopped to eat.”
“You need fattening up.” Philip gave Nicole a teasing smile as he helped her into the curricle, then tucked a heavy blanket across her and the cat basket she carried on her lap.
As he climbed into his own seat, Nicole reflected that when he decided to marry, the girl he chose would be very fortunate, for his consideration made one feel cherished. She slanted a glance out of the corner of her eye. He was also kind, amusing, intelligent, good-natured, and handsome. Yes, when he was ready to marry, his chosen bride would be a very lucky woman.
A mile beyond Towcester, Philip swung the carriage from the main road onto a narrower track that led east. “This is a shortcut to Winstead. We should be home just before dark.”
Nicole hoped he was right. Already it was mid-afternoon and the lowering clouds threatened to drop something unpleasant on the hapless travelers.Eh bien.There was no point in worrying about it, she decided philosophically as the curricle lurched into an unusually large rut.
She wrapped her right arm around the cat basket and gripped the carriage rail with her left hand. “Will there be hot mulled wine when we reach Winstead?”
“If not that, something equally warming.” The road was getting progressively rougher so Philip slowed the team’s pace. “How did you come to England, or is that something you would rather not discuss?”
“It’s not a dramatic tale. We had been in Paris and were returning to Brittany. A few miles from home, one of my father’s peasants, who had been watching for our return, stopped our carriage to warn us that Guards were waiting at the manor to arrest the whole family. We abandoned the carriage, and the peasant drove us to the coast in his cart. A fisherman took us across the Channel to England with no more than the luggage we had brought from Paris.
“I was only six, and everything happened so quickly that I didn’t understand that I would never again see my playmates on the estate, or the nurse who raised me, or my pony. But we were fortunate—we had our lives. Others were not so lucky.”
“Did you come to London?”
“My mother had a cousin in Bristol, so we went there. We had hardly any money, so my father found work driving a coach between Bristol and Birmingham. That paid enough to keep us in modest comfort for the next few years.” Her voice wavered. “Then Papa’s back was broken in a coach accident, and he never walked again. Since he could not work, my mother took in sewing. I was almost eleven then, so I helped her.”
Philip hauled back on the reins to let a small group of homeward-bound cows amble across the road. “What a pity. It almost seems like your family was cursed.”
“It sounds dreadful, and in many ways it was,” Nicole said slowly. “Yet the next five years were the happiest of my life. The three of us were very close. Papa became my teacher, for he said that an informed mind was the true mark of gentility. A gentleman who lived nearby let us borrow any book in his library, so I learned Latin and some Greek, read the classics, debated the ideas of the great philosophers. Then Papa died of lung fever, and my mother’s heart died with him.”
Nicole used the icy rain as an excuse to brush at her eyes, which were disgracefully moist. “Maman survived another three years, mostly from a sense of duty to me, I think. Then when I was eighteen and she knew I was capable of taking care of myself, she just. . . faded away.”
“And ever since, you’ve faced the world alone.”
“It hasn’t been so bad. I have friends in Bristol, and I had a good position there. But I was ambitious and wanted to work in London and someday have a shop of my own. That is how I came to Lady Guthrie’s household.” She made a face. “Going to work for her was the worst mistake of my life, but it seemed like a good opportunity at the time.”
He gave her a quick, warm smile. “You are a remarkable young lady, Mademoiselle Chambord.”
She laughed. “There is nothing remarkable about making the best of one’s lot, Sir Philip. Not when one considers the alternative.”
After that conversation flagged, for the weather was steadily worsening. The mizzling rain froze wherever it touched, and the muddy ruts began to solidify to iron-hard ridges that rattled the curricle and its occupants to the bone. Earlier there had been a steady trickle of traffic in both directions, but now they were alone on the road.
The Northamptonshire terrain consisted of wide rolling hills that took a long time to climb. It was at the top of one such ridge that the curricle’s wheels got trapped in a deep, icy set of ruts that ran at a tangent to the main direction of the road. Caught between the pull of the horses and the ruts, the curricle pitched heavily, almost spilling both passengers out.
“Damnation!” Using all of the strength of his powerful arms, Sir Philip managed to bring the carriage to a safe halt. “I’m sorry, Nicole. In a heavier carriage we could manage, but the curricle is just too light for these conditions. We’ve scarcely eight miles to go, and I’d hoped to make it home, but it’s dangerous to continue. There’s a small inn about a mile ahead. We can stop there for the night.”
Struggling to keep her teeth from chattering, Nicole nodded with relief. “Whatever you think best, monsieur.”
He urged the nervous horses forward again. “What a polite answer when you would probably rather curse me for risking your neck.”
“I’m in no position to complain. Two days ago I was this cold, but then I had no prospect of finding a warm fire at the end of the day.”
The road down the hill was steep and dangerous, so icy the horses sometimes slipped. The light was failing and visibility was only a few yards, but with Philip’s firm hands on the reins, they made it almost to the bottom without incident.
They reached a bare spot where the wind had turned a wide puddle into a treacherous glaze of ice. As soon as the curricle’s wheels struck the slick surface, the vehicle slewed wildly across the road.
The horses screamed and one reared in its harness. Philip fought for control as Nicole clung to the railing and her cat basket for dear life.
