“I never insult you, Alano,” Douglas said amiably, familiar with this long-standing verbal game. “I only tell the truth.”
“Before you leave, you’d better tell me what else I need to do,” Alano said, sighing loud enough that Douglas could hear.
This time, Douglas didn’t bother to hide his smile.
A week later, Sarah understood why Douglas required the time before they left for Scotland.
She’d expected that they would be driven to King’s Cross Station. She’d not expected that the carriage would travel some distance beyond the station to the very end of the train.
They left the carriage, and walked to the siding. Douglas pointed the way to a railcar, nearly as long as the other passenger cars, built of wood, and painted a deep blue. No words or identification marred the outside, marking it immediately as privately owned.
“I dislike traveling with eighteen other people,” Douglas said.
“Is this yours?” she asked, utterly surprised.
“Shall we say it’s ours? I haven’t time to furnish it the way I wish, but Alano assures me that it’s as fine as I could obtain, given the time.”
She turned and stared at him.
“You’ve purchased a railcar,” she said.
He smiled and held out his arm. “Shall we go see what it looks like? I’ve not had time to inspect it myself.”
Windows lined the car on both sides, each window adorned with a shirred-ivory curtain, now closed to provide privacy. Mahogany cabinets lined the back of the car, several faced with glass and revealing a selection of books in one, and a decanter and glasses in another. A small square table sat in front of the windows on one side of the car, flanked by four straight-back chairs upholstered in the same blue shade as the outside of the car.
At the front of the car was a large sofa, facing two overstuffed chairs, this fabric a softer blue. The cabinets at this end of the car allowed for a door in the middle, the half window in it covered by the same ivory curtain fabric.
Both she and Florie were agog, especially when they discovered the small stove in one cabinet. Douglas, however, seemed to take the luxury in stride.
“We can only take the train to Perth,” he said. “From there we’ll have to take a carriage.”
“Have you purchased a carriage as well?” she asked.
“We’ll simply take the one that brought us to London, and have it lashed to a flatcar. Tim will accompany us,” he said, naming their coachman and Florie’s husband. He turned to her now. “If you’d like to be with him, Florie, I’ve arranged for first-class tickets for both of you.”
Florie glanced from Douglas to Sarah, trying to restrain some of her enthusiasm and failing miserably.
“Go on,” Sarah said. “We shall see each other in Scotland.”
“I’ll just put the hamper away first,” Florie said.
Cook had prepared a hamper for that day, packing it with two salted hams, three jars of potted pork, at least a dozen jars of pickled vegetables, dried apricots, peaches, and quinces, along with a selection of breads.
“How long will it take to reach Perth?” she said, once Florie had left the car.
“Fifteen hours,” he said. “Unless we spend the night at a siding.” He moved to open one of the cabinets. He was exploring, just as she and Florie had done.
“That fast?” she asked, dropping onto the surprisingly comfortable sofa.
She shook her head, unable to comprehend the extravagance. Granted, Chavensworth was a beautiful home but it didn’t belong to her, and everything within it—portable and sellable—had been stripped from it by her father. She had no ready funds, exchanging the income Chavensworth produced for necessities such as food and other commodities that the estate could not provide.
Turning to Douglas, she watched him. He was smiling, obviously delighted by his exploration.
“Did you do this for me?” she asked.
He turned to study her, his gaze intent. “Engines are extraordinarily loud,” he said. “In addition, I dislike plumes of steam and smoke.”
She’d dreaded her first time on a train, but this was almost magical. Had the circumstances been any different, she would have been as thoroughly delighted as Douglas appeared to be.
