A Shadow's Bliss (18 page)

Jennifer stared at her, wide-eyed.

Jonathan went to soothe the still-nervous horses. It was happening again. As it had in St. Just and Zenor, and, worst of all, in Garrison Pen, where they'd almost managed to put a period to him. Yet it was that merciless beating which had brought him here, to find the lady he worshipped. He frowned, and led the horses into another patch of shade. The lady he had no right to worship. Yet in the schoolroom on that most wondrous of rainy afternoons, he had almost dared to kiss her. And today, because he no longer wore ragged garments, he had started to feel fully alive and able to hold his head up again. What utter folly! As though clothes could change what he was; or anything in the entire world have the power to wipe the slate clean and allow him to dream—

“Why do you look so grim, Johnny? Are you wishing you had let the team run away with me?”

His unruly heart gave a leap and began to pound erratically. He jerked his head up. Jennifer stood watching him, her face shaded by a dainty parasol. He said, “No. Of course not. But—but I had no thought to have thrown your maid down so roughly.”

“Is that why you were looking so miserable?”

His eyes fell away. “She was very shaken, ma'am.”

“Yes, but she is resting now, and will be much better for a short nap.”

He looked past her. Tilly lay on a blanket spread under the trees. “You will wish to rest also, Miss Jennifer.”

“Thank you, but there is not the need. If I am tired, 'tis from sitting in the coach. I shall walk for a little while.”

The offer she anticipated was not forthcoming. Jonathan became deeply engrossed in loosening harness straps, and then took up a handful of grass and concentrated on a rather restricted rubbing down of the animals, not once glancing at her.

She watched him speculatively, and pointed out, “You have already tended the off-leader. Are you going to water them?”

“When they've cooled down, ma'am.”

“They'll be cool in this shade. Give me your escort, if you please.”

If he pleased! But he loved her too much, and to be alone with her was such a bittersweet temptation. Avoiding her candid gaze, he muttered, “If I leave them, they'll graze, and I don't want them eating while they're still warm.”

“Exactly right. So we will all walk, and your horses can cool down while you keep them from devouring the scenery.”

Perforce, he took the reins, and man, team, and coach, followed Jennifer obediently.

“I suppose,” she murmured, at the head of this small procession, “being from London, you find our superstitions so much nonsense?”

“I'm not sure I am from London, ma'am.”

“Oh, a pretty evasion! And how may I talk when you are lagging back there? Am I to be burdened with a stiff neck in addition to my—other injuries?”

He all but sprang to her side, and said anxiously, “I'd not known you were hurt. Can I help?”

Her eyes danced. “Now that would really drive Tilly into the boughs! I fear I have bruised my— Er, I have sustained a bruise.”

The dimple that must assuredly be the most kissable such article in the history of mankind was quivering beside her lips. He had to choke back a teasing response. She was lonely, poor darling girl, and she had begun, perhaps unconsciously, to reach out to him, to speak to him as an equal. But how appalled she would be to realize that such a one as he presumed to love her … And so it was that he did not return her smile, but said gravely, “Indeed? I am very sorry, ma'am.”

To Jennifer, it was as if her rather naughty remark had been too vulgar to be acknowledged. How dare he be so aloof! How dare he presume to give her a set-down? Angry and mortified, she thought, ‘You invited it, Jennifer Britewell! A fine pass have you come to, that you must play the coquette with a common groom!' It was a sobering admission. She said with rare hauteur, “And I owe you another vote of thanks. Had the team succeeded in bolting I would have had more than a bruise to complain of, but I suppose I dare not try to reward you.”

Just to be near her was the greatest reward she could offer him. But it was clear that his reserve had annoyed her. He must not spoil that dismal success. He said woodenly, “You are in my care, ma'am. 'Tis the duty of all your servants to—”

“Oh, hush!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot at him with pretty ferocity. “Do not throw your humble servitude in my face!”

He blinked at this rather muddled admonition. “But—I
am
in your father's service, and—”

“And had you not been, you would have let me be carried to my death, I collect!”

“No—of course not. I only meant—”

“To act the part of a servant. And I am obliged to tell you that 'tis a role you play very poorly!”

He tensed, then, still striving, admitted, “I expect I do. It is—a big step up from being a penniless wanderer, ma'am.”

She uttered a small snort of impatience. “Very well, since servants must obey their mistr—”—she corrected hurriedly—“their employers, answer my question. I asked your opinion of our superstitions.”

She looked so adorably conscious of that near slip of the tongue. He kept his countenance somehow, and replied, “Cornwall does seem rather rife with it, Miss Jennifer. I cannot but—er, pity the poor hares.”

She stopped walking and with an instant change of mood put a hand on his arm. “Johnny, you must
never
say such a thing to others! Not to another soul! Promise me.”

Her eyes were full of anxiety that was, he knew, for his sake. Deeply moved, he could not refrain from smiling as he answered, “I promise. But I cannot think you share the belief that hares contain the spirits of the dead, or can change their form.”

She walked on again. “I am Cornish born and bred. In some ways this lovely county is far more steeped in ancient beliefs and fables than is any other part of England. The legend of my own house is part of our history.” She glanced at his intent face. “Do you know why the castle is named Triad?”

“I fancy it goes back to Arthurian legend. The triangle: Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot. But was there not another such triangle? King—Marcus, I believe, who sent Tristan to fetch his bride, the Princess Iseult?”

She turned her head and looked at him steadily. “Your memory is not always elusive, is it, Johnny?”

He bit his lip. “Then you will be wishing to turn back? As Tilly asked.”

“I make my own decisions. Even if I am as silly and superstitious as you think.”

“I could not ever believe you to be silly!”

“Only superstitious.”

He said nothing. Jennifer hummed as she walked, twirling her parasol, and gazing out across the sparkling ocean as though Jonathan had ceased to exist. And perfectly aware that from time to time he stole a glance at her.

Yet when she looked his way it was to find that he had fallen behind and was following her at a respectful distance. “I did not require that you walk behind me again,” she said, waiting for him to draw level.

“No, ma'am. But I fear that—you find me irksome.”

“If I do, 'tis because you draw the curtains over your thoughts. I wish you will not.”

“What did you wish … to know, ma'am?”

“Oh, so many things. But for the moment, what you are thinking will do.”

He thought grimly, ‘Oh, no it won't!' and lied, “I was thinking what a pity it will be for you to miss the party. You have so looked forward to it.”

“I have. But—how did you know that?”

“Because you were so radiant this morning. I mean no offence, Miss Jennifer, but you seldom set out covers for guests. And your friend seemed not to stay for very long.”

“If you mean Hibbard Green,” she said, frowning, “he is no friend of mine!”

He could have kissed her for that denial. “I meant the lady who was here last week. I chanced to see her out walking.”

Puzzled, Jennifer said, “I entertained no visitors last week. Unless, perhaps…” She thought of Howland and wondered if he had been dallying with some new light of love. “Perhaps, the lady was a friend of my brother.”

That was logical enough, but still— She was looking at him curiously, and he said, “I did not mean to—to pry, ma'am. I'm only glad to know that she came to no harm.”

“Harm?” Stiffening, she asked, “Why should you suppose that a friend of my brother would be harmed in my father's house?”

“No—she would not, of course! Only, it seemed rather—er, unwise. To walk on the moor, I mean. I tried to warn her about being up there alone at night, but—”

Jennifer halted and stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about? If the lady was on the moor at night, I am very sure my brother escorted her.”

“So I would have thought, but she was quite alone, and—”

“A
lady?
Alone at night? On the moor? If ever I heard of such a thing! Where was this, pray?”

“Near the old mine. Perhaps she was acquainted with one of the men up there.”

“What men? There is no work going forward at the mine yet.”

“I know. But there are men there. Many rough fellows. I saw them.”

She was frightened suddenly. In his livery he looked every inch the aristocrat.
Could
he be playing a part, after all? Had she been a silly, trusting fool? Everyone knew that Excise officers were sly and devious. He very obviously had been prowling about the Blue Rose after dark. Her suspicions rushed back tenfold. She said in a breathless accusation, “You are trying to trap me with all this talk of a lady, and of men working at the mine!”

“Trap you?” Taken aback, he said, “How could you be trapped? I went to the mine because—”

Admired for her ability to meet emergencies with calmness and common sense, Jennifer was far from being calm now. Her common sense told her she had been stupid, and the thought that this man had cleverly deceived her awoke a hurt and a rage such as she'd never before experienced. She was thrown into a panic by the depth of her distress, and she interrupted wildly, “Because you
are
a Riding Officer! You
have
been searching for free-traders, just as I thought! It was all carefully planned to insinuate yourself among us, and—”

“Are you at that again?” Anger overwhelmed him. He seized her arm as she drew away from him. “You know how ill I was when Mrs. Newlyn found me. Do you really think I would go to such lengths only to hoodwink—”

“Yes! I do! If truth was told, you were—were likely beaten by free-traders and decided to turn it to—to good account!”

“If ever I heard such silly twaddle!”

“Oh! How dare you!”

But in his desperate need to convince her, he would have dared anything, and said fiercely, “I gave you my oath! Have you forgot?”

“You told me you were under a vow, and that because of it you had to stay here. I was so stupid as to think—you were so cunning as to
make
me think you had taken a
holy
vow because of some—some terrible crime! The truth is that your oath was to the King!” Once more she tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. She half-sobbed, “Let me go!”

“Not until you listen! I am
not
—”

“I won't listen! I don't believe a word you say! You have lied since first you came! Deceiving us all with your loathe-some play-acting! I knew you were no—no tramp, but I thought perhaps—”

He dropped the reins and took her by the shoulders. “If you will just—”

On a note of hysteria she cried, “Do not
dare
put your filthy hands on me! Open the door at once, and drive me back!”

His filthy hands … Shocked back to sanity, he released her abruptly, and stood very still, as white as she now was flushed. Then he turned to swing the carriage door open.

Disdaining the hand he offered, Jennifer stumbled past. Blinded with tears, confused and frightened by conflicting emotions, she tripped on the step. Jonathan leapt to steady her, but in her overwrought state she thought she was being attacked, and with a choked cry whirled and struck out frenziedly. Her flying fist caught him in the eye, and he reeled back, still holding the door. The coach rocked. From the box came a scrambling sound, followed by a strange, high-pitched gobbling. It was not a birdsong the horses knew and they were still nervous. They sidled and stamped about, causing the coach to rock violently. Caught off balance, Jennifer staggered and uttered a faint cry. Jonathan grabbed her outflung arm, jerked her to him, and sprang clear as the team lunged against the traces.

It was the last straw. Jennifer burst into tears.

“Oh, God!” groaned Jonathan. “Do not! Oh—pray, ma'am, do not!”

“I … cannot … help it,” she wailed.

Frantic, he set her down, and began to dab at her wet cheeks with his handkerchief, finding it necessary to keep one arm about her, pleading with her not to cry, while she clung to his cravat and sobbed ever more unrestrainedly.

“Jennifer, please stop! My beautiful … dearest girl … I cannot bear to see you cry.”

At this, her eyes opened very wide. She pulled back, peering up into his anguished face with tears gemming her lashes. “You—you're weeping, too…” she gulped.

“I know,” he said. And lost to everything but her grief, added with a tender smile, “You hit me in the eye.”

“Oh.” One hand lifted to caress his cheek. “My … poor dear…”

He could no more have stopped from turning his head than have stopped the sun in its journey; no more have refrained from kissing that soft white hand, than have ceased to love her.

Gazing into his eyes, reading the adoration there, Jennifer was as enchanted as he. She lifted her face.

The village idiot bowed his head and kissed the lady of Castle Triad, and, for a heavenly stolen moment, the world and its problems ceased to be.