Jamie gulped. Smithers was getting carried away. ‘I be thirteen,’ she croaked. ‘Gardener I be, sir.’
His lordship laughed, but not unkindly. ‘I could have guessed that from the state of your hands, Jamie, though not perhaps from your fine clothes. Are you a good gardener?’
Jamie nodded vigorously.
‘He has a wonderful way with growing things, to be sure,’ added Smithers, ‘though he’s not been a gardener, in the ordinary way.’
Lord Hardinge raised an eyebrow.
‘What I mean,’ continued Smithers hastily, improvising around the truth, ‘is that Jamie wasn’t exactly employed at Calderwood, just allowed to stay there. Charitable of her ladyship, really, to give him bed and board. The gardening was his attempt to pay his way. He’s not much good at household duties, I’m afraid.’
Jamie kept her head down, trying to hide her face from his lordship’s penetrating gaze. She knew she was blushing. That did not seem appropriate for a thirteen-year-old boy, even a backward one.
‘So, you have found him a proper situation as a gardener’s boy, have you, Smithers? That sounds hopeful.’
Jamie groaned inwardly. Smithers was beginning to struggle in the complications of her own story. If she claimed there was a position for Jamie, his lordship would probably enquire as to the employer’s name, and then what could Smithers say? Jamie held her breath.
‘No, not precisely, my lord.’ Smithers started to move towards the far end of the room. ‘Sit down there, Jamie,’ she called back. ‘Would you mind, my lord?’ she continued in a low voice. ‘I don’t like to discuss this in front of Jamie.’
Jamie swallowed a gasp. She wanted to stop them, but she could not step out of the part she was playing. No backward boy would understand what was being discussed, far less insist on being part of it. She must just put her trust in Annie Smithers. At least it would give her time to school her features into blankness— and a chance to strain her ears to hear what was being said.
‘I thank you kindly for your interest in my brother, my lord. In fact, there is no definite situation for him yet, but I am most hopeful. One of the Bath agencies believes he can be placed. There are many openings for bootboys and the like.’
‘But you said he has no bent for indoor work,’ he returned sharply.
Jamie saw that Smithers was flushing, caught by the twists of her own tale. ‘Not real indoor work, like a page boy,’ the abigail said hurriedly, ‘but even he can black boots.’
His lordship smiled coldly. ‘You would not say that to my valet, Smithers,’ he said caustically. ‘However, we are wandering from the point. Now, the stage is due in about ten minutes. Do you take your seat on it, and I will take the boy on the box of my carriage. You may find him at the coach office when you reach Bath.’
Smithers’ reply came out in a rush. ‘How very kind you are, my lord. But, no, I’m afraid I cannot accept your offer. Jamie’s never been on his own, you see, especially in a big city. I couldn’t think of letting him travel all that way by himself or having him wait at the coach station for such a long time on his own.’ She lowered her voice a little. ‘People sometimes take advantage, make fun of him. They can be very cruel.’
Fixing the abigail with a hard glare, his lordship pronounced on her fate. ‘Your sisterly concern does you credit, Smithers. Very well. Since you will not leave him to me, you had better come along as well. Get the lad to load your bags into my carriage. I am leaving immediately. I hope you do not object to travelling forward?’ He walked out with an indifferent nod, not waiting for her reply.
Smithers hurried back to Jamie. ‘Did you hear what we said?’ At Jamie’s rapid nod, the abigail continued, ‘Remember you must act the part of a boy, Miss Jamie. You’re to travel on the box with the coachman, which means you won’t have his lordship’s eye on you. He’s altogether too sharp, that one, for my liking.’
‘For goodness’ sake,’ hissed Jamie, ‘you must stop saying “Miss Jamie”! Remember, I am “Jamie” and you are “Annie”. What if he heard you?’
‘Yes, yes, very well,’ agreed Smithers, shooing her to the door. ‘Now, go and load the luggage. Quickly. You don’t want to draw his lordship’s attention to you by being tardy.’
Jamie grabbed her pack and the abigail’s bulky travelling bags and hurried out to the carriage, trying not to think about the risks of what was happening. Keep out of his way, she told herself sternly, and act simple.
But her eyes were still drawn to him, like a moth to flame. Lord Hardinge was standing by the steps, giving crisp instructions to his coachman. The grooms were stationed by the horses, ready to whip the cloths off their backs as soon as he gave the word. He exuded authority. And he was watching her!
‘Jamie!’ he called sharply as he mounted into the carriage. ‘Tell that sister of yours to get a move on. Quickly now!’
Jamie nodded obediently and trotted off into the taproom where Smithers was waiting, looking rather more composed than before. ‘Come on, Annie! He’s becoming impatient! Now, do be careful what you say to him. Don’t spin any more stories, please. I shan’t be able to keep up with them.’
‘Yes, you will. Just stick to your character—backward, without many words. If you don’t know what to say, say nothing. And look simple.’ She turned to go.
‘Annie.’ The abigail turned back. ‘Thank you, dear Annie. Some day—’
‘Oh, stuff! Now, let’s be going. He’ll expect you to help me into the carriage.’
Up on the box beside the old coachman, Jamie was soon inwardly rejoicing at her escape. In just a few hours, they would reach Bath, and then she would be free. Her heart was singing. But no amount of joy could prevent her from gradually freezing. Edmund’s clothes were not thick enough for winter wear and his cloak, though long, was thin, affording little protection against the bitingly sharp wind. Jamie glanced enviously at the thick greatcoat, mufflers and gloves of the coachman. Her own hands were becoming blue with cold and so numb she could barely feel them. She was sure there was a drip on the end of her nose. With grim determination, she ignored it and concentrated on mastering the chattering of her teeth. She refused to give up now. Only a few hours more…
Once Smithers was settled, Richard studiously ignored her. He relaxed in the corner of his opulent carriage, a fur rug over his knees, and closed his eyes to indicate that he did not propose to converse during the journey. He waited until the abigail fell asleep, lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the carriage. As her breathing slowed, he opened his eyes once more. And he fixed his gaze on her, thoughtfully examining every aspect of her person.
He had been surprised to find that he felt sorry for a simple lad, in spite of his suspicions of the sister’s lame explanations. The boy had looked so uncomfortable in his fine clothes, obviously charity cast-offs from someone in the Calderwood family. And he would be vulnerable without his sister, if he were indeed taking a situation on his own. Richard sighed. His conscience would not allow him to draw back, when a simpleton needed his help. Besides, there might be profit in this encounter. Smithers knew more about the Calderwood household than any agent he had yet been able to employ.
Richard had noted the attempt at masculine panache as the boy slung his sister’s bags into the carriage. But it was not so much the awkwardness of Jamie’s movements which had attracted his attention, as the size of the abigail’s baggage. Strange, if she were indeed travelling to Bath for a few days only. If she were leaving for good, on the other hand…
He smiled to himself. Things were beginning to work out rather better than he had hoped, and might yet be turned even more to his advantage. He would consider further during the journey. There was no rush, now that he had the woman under his eye.
At length, the carriage turned into a posting inn for