Chapter 12

T ravel across the country in a coach was uncomfortable under the best of circumstances. But more than six days of continuous travel was going to test the mettle of all four of them, James was certain. Were he back in England, he would have spent a great deal of the journey on horseback, free of the confinement of the coach. A saddle might not be the most comfortable, but it was more comfortable than wooden benches—even these that had been furnished with padded upholstery.

He would also not have felt obliged to ride facing backward for those six days. But poor, nervous Mary, who had spent her time on a yacht being ill from the motion of the ship and had endured in silence the coach ride from Calais to Paris, needed to be in a seat in which she could face forward. Not only was it the gentlemanly thing to do, but it was the safest option as well. James wasn’t of a mind to have to stop the coach frequently were Mary to cast up her accounts while enclosed in tight quarters.

So, he sat facing Anna, while Sparks sat facing Mary, and he watched Paris vanish from sight, unable to see what towns or inns they were approaching. It was frustrating at best. He also watched coaches and the occasional travelers on horseback pass them and disappear in the dust. It wasn’t much to break up the tedium, but it was something, he supposed.

Additionally, conversation between two members of the upper class and two of the working class, especially after already having traveled by coach from Calais to Paris in each other’s company, was stilted—at least on the initial leg of their travel south thus far.

James was of the opinion that no one was looking forward to spending at least a week traveling to the southernmost part of France despite their willingness to do so, which might also explain the lack of conversation. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. They’d been on the road for only two hours on their first day, heading south from Paris—and the journey had already become tedious.

He subtly studied Anna’s face as she gazed at the countryside through the window next to her. She was a study of contrasts: the stark black of her traveling dress and bonnet, the blonde sheen of her hair, and the brilliant blue of her eyes. Her beautiful face was drawn into a frown, however, and he wondered what she might be thinking.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said softly, but not so softly that he couldn’t be heard over the rumbling of the wheels of the coach.

She turned her face to look at him and attempted to smile. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said.

“I think you can do better than that,” James replied, hoping he sounded reassuring.

Sparks and Mary both turned their attention toward her.

Anna sighed deeply. “Very well,” she said. “What if—” She stopped speaking abruptly.

“What if what?” James asked. “What if we arrive and learn Avery has returned to England? What if no one has any information to provide? What if we arrive and we learn the worst—”

“Stop,” Anna said, holding up her hand. “Don’t speak those last words aloud. I couldn’t bear it.”

“But it is a truth that may have to be faced,” James said.

Anna acknowledged his words but with the barest of nods. She turned to stare out the window again.

“What if your vile cousin has already ensconced himself in your family estate, your brother has died, and you are homeless?” James asked.

“I say, sir, that’s cruel!” Sparks exclaimed, as Mary’s hands flew to her mouth, which, James noted, they did frequently. Anna continued to look out the window.

“Truth can ofttimes be cruel,” James said softly. He knew his words were blunt, but they needed saying. While travel into Paris had felt relatively safe, they were now to travel through areas of France dealing with the aftermath of war. He wouldn’t tell her this, but he’d tucked his revolvers and ammunition into his bag before leaving Paris, in case they were needed. He prayed they wouldn’t be. James had discovered that he would go to the ends of the earth for her. But based on her gloomy countenance, he would rather ask the difficult questions again than continue onward if she were having any doubts.

Before he could say anything further, however, the coach rolled into the courtyard of the inn that was their first change of horses.

Once they’d come to a halt, the footman opened the door, and James stepped out and offered Anna his hand so she could descend from the carriage. Sparks glared at him the entire time, and then followed behind and assisted Mary from the coach.

“I would still like a truthful answer from you,” James said to Anna after Sparks and Mary had walked a few paces away from them.

“I realize that,” Anna said. “And you deserve as truthful an answer as I can give.”

“Perhaps we may speak privately,” he suggested. “I will see if Monsieur le Touffe is amenable to the idea of waiting an extra half an hour or so to give us the time we need.”

“Yes,” was all she said.

It would have to be enough for now, he thought as he offered her his arm and she slipped her hand inside his elbow.

After only having been in the coach for an hour, Anna had begun to realize once again just what endurance everyone would need, and her guilt mounted with each mile. They had all agreed to continue on, but at what sacrifice?

And yet, how could she give up on finding Avery?

James took her hand in his and tucked it securely into the crook of his elbow. She wondered if he could feel it tremble.

“Come, let us stroll a bit and see if we may find a quiet spot to converse more privately,” James said.

She nodded her consent.

They walked toward a side of the inn where they discovered a well-tended garden full of a variety of blooming shrubs and flowers along with some vegetable plants.

“Ah, this is nice,” James said. “Much like the little garden we found in Paris.” He looked at her for her approval, which she gave once again with a nod of her head. She knew a difficult conversation was yet to come, and she was trying to prepare herself for it.

“The questions I asked you in the coach were blunt and cruel, yet I cannot regret asking them; you must face the truth of the situation,” he said in a kind tone.

“I know,” she murmured. “I have asked myself those same questions many times, lest you think me some sort of idealistic fool.”

He patted her hand with his free hand and then let it rest upon hers. “I don’t think that. I understand the love and devotion you have for your family. And I have promised I shall go with you wherever it takes us.”

Anna stared at her hand under his and then at his handsome face. “Oh, James,” she said. “You have already done more to help me find my brother than I could have ever hoped.”

“I have four brothers,” James said. “That may seem like more than enough, and indeed, at times while we were growing up, it was, but I cannot imagine the pain I would feel were I to lose any one of them. I have a youngest brother who is of a rebellious nature, and his actions already make him feel as if he is lost to us. To actually lose a brother to death, as you have, and then suffer the additional burden of not knowing the whereabouts of your only remaining brother, I cannot imagine.”

Anna remained silent and pondered his words. They were the most personal he’d ever shared with her—and were highly insightful.

“And your sisters?” she asked at length.

“Three, and I would do anything in my power to protect them too. Hence, the reason I remained in London and Osbourne continued on to Paris without me. I had to be there for my sister, you see, when she married the Duke of Aylesham.”

“I gathered the situation was unusual,” Anna said.

“Highly suspect, you mean,” James said. “But I am not so afraid of this particular duke that I cannot settle a score should he treat my sister poorly. I am assured that he will not.”

“That is good, I suppose,” Anna replied.

“Yes,” James said. “For I would not have any lady mistreated or left feeling abandoned.” He locked eyes with her.

Her pulse sped at the intensity of his look. She swallowed. “And that, I suppose, is the reason you have chosen to assist me.”

“It is one of the reasons,” he replied.

His answer was cryptic, but she wasn’t inclined to ask for further explanation at the moment out of fear of what he might say.

“I was presumptuous to refer to you simply as Anna,” he said, “and yet I cannot regret it either. I was rather pleased when you began calling me James.”

She said nothing, could say nothing in reply.

“I hope you will continue to call me James and that I am afforded permission to refer to you as Anna,” he murmured.

“I think that after all we’ve been through together, we have gone beyond the formalities of titles and surnames,” she said a little too breathlessly.

“Thank you. Anna.” He said her Christian name deliberately, as though testing it upon his tongue this time.

“James,” she said, “I must continue to search for Avery. I cannot stop.”

“I understand,” he replied. “And so, we shall continue. Now, I think we must join the others before they begin to search for us ,” he said softly.

“Yes, James,” she replied.

He smiled, looking pleased, and then raised her gloved hand to his lips and pressed a long kiss on it that nearly made Anna swoon.

“Oh, but I wish to remain in this garden with you,” he whispered, his lips barely removed from her hand.

She could only nod, so overcome she felt.

They turned to stroll back.

It was just as well, for they had barely arrived back at the front of the inn when Sparks and Mary came out the door.

“There ye are!” Mary called to them. “We have refreshments inside for ye but wondered where ye got off to.”

“Le Touffe is still inside takin’ his refreshment, so ye have time,” Sparks added, but Anna thought he looked at her and James a bit suspiciously. “I invited Mary to go on a short walk so we can stretch our legs before le Touffe is ready to shoo us back into the coach.”

“There is a nice garden down the side of the inn, just there—” Anna bit off the rest of her statement.

Sparks looked at James with a raised eyebrow, which told Anna she had probably said too much.

“As Lady Anna says, it’s a nice garden. Flowers. Quite peaceful,” James added with a smile.

“It sounds lovely!” Mary gushed.

“Then, we must go an’ see,” Sparks said to her.

As they headed off in the direction from which James and Anna had just come, Sparks gave the two of them another suspicious look right before they disappeared around the corner of the building.

“Let’s go find those refreshments Mary said were waiting for us,” James said.

As they walked through the entrance of the inn, she noticed Monsieur le Touffe at the bar, dipping a pastry into a cup of tea, and then a serving girl approached them and said something in French, to which James responded. The girl nodded and then gestured for them to follow her to a table, where there was a hot pot of tea and a large plate of pastries filled with ham or cheese or both and some filled with fruit.

Anna did her best to eat, despite the flurry of butterflies in her stomach from James’s words—and his unexpected kiss.

Soon enough, they were back in the coach and on their way to Orleans, their final destination for this first day of travel. James noticed that for the first few miles after their interlude in the inn’s garden, Anna seemed determined to gaze out the window at the countryside.

Eventually, Sparks began softly humming, and the sound seemed to soothe the general mood within the coach; indeed, James felt himself relax.

Sparks had an excellent voice, and his humming gradually turned to singing, albeit quietly. James listened, grateful that Sparks’s singing was sparing them from conversation for a while, and he even recognized some of the melodies as hymns from his youth. And Mary, timid Mary, listened to each hymn and then harmonized with Sparks, which was delightful to hear.

After a while, the music Sparks chose changed from hymns to folk songs.

James glanced at Anna. She appeared to be enjoying the singing, just as he was, for her countenance seemed lighter, and she was smiling.

“My love is like a red red rose, / That’s newly sprung in June, / O my Love’s like the melodie / That’s sweetly play’d in tune,” Sparks sang with Mary.

James suddenly thought it striking that neither he nor Anna had joined in the singing. Why was that? Blast, it was time for that to change! As Sparks and Mary began the second verse of this particular folk song, James decided to join them. “As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,” he sang, adding his voice to theirs, “So deep in love am I, / And I will love thee still, my dear, / Till a’ the seas gang dry.”

When he got to the end of the verse, he realized that Sparks and Mary had ceased singing and were staring at him. He didn’t much care. Singing had felt blasted good!

But the look on Anna’s face captured him: her brilliant eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, as if in surprise—and yet also not in surprise. That didn’t make sense, but that was the only way James could think to describe it. He realized the words he had just sung were words declaring an undying love, and he had been looking directly at Anna.

And then Sparks and Mary faded entirely from his view, and he could see only Anna. His Anna. Softly, by himself, he sang the couplet from the final verse, which they had not yet sung: “And I will come again, my Love, / Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.”

He stopped singing and simply gazed at her.

Silence.

He smiled at her and nodded his head—only once—at her. It was merely a song, and he hoped the words wouldn’t frighten her away. But he realized the words he’d sung were essentially true; he would do whatever he could to win her favor ... and her love. Even tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and her delicious lips turned up in the most beautiful smile. He could live happily in that gaze of hers, he was sure.

The coach began to slow, which broke the spell under which James had fallen. He quickly glanced out the window and saw that they had arrived at the inn where their last change of horses would occur before reaching Orleans.

The coach eventually ground to a halt, and le Touffe opened the door and assisted Anna and Mary from the coach. James followed, with Sparks behind him, and le Touffe shut the door after them.

James quickened his pace in order to be with Anna, but when he reached her side, he could see that she was speaking in a low voice to Mary.

“Mary and I need to refresh ourselves once we’re inside the inn,” Anna said softly to him when she noticed his presence next to her.

“I shall order refreshment for you both, then, if that pleases you,” James replied.

“Thank you, James,” Anna said. She glanced at Mary, who nodded slightly. “Thank you for both of us.” And then they hurried into the inn.

“Well, Sparks, my man, it appears we have been temporarily abandoned by our fair companions,” James said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I suspect they will join us sooner rather than later. In the meantime, let’s be about our own needs and arrange some refreshment.”

“Right about that, Mr. Jennings,” Sparks said. “I’m thinking some sandwiches an’ tea an’ ale will put everyone to rights.”

“You’re on to something there, Sparks,” James replied. “I believe we English males have had our fill of dainty pastries and are in need of heartier sustenance.”

The inn was surprisingly busy, but within a short amount of time, James was at a table with Sparks along with a nice platter of rolls, cheeses, and cured meats. “Tuck in, sir,” Sparks said. “I doubt the ladies will mind if we start without ’em, don’t ye? Especially when who knows how long they’ll be? Ladies be a mighty mystery to me, but these two are nice ’uns, at least.”

“Indeed. By the way, well done with the singing, Sparks. You’ve a fine voice,” James said before taking a sip of ale from the mug a serving girl placed in front of him.

“It’s not a solo voice I have, sir,” Sparks said. “But I thank ye all the same. Ye know I sing in the church choir. Mary is in the choir too.”

“Mary is a nice ’un, as you say,” James said.

Sparks turned solemn for a moment. “I had me heart broke a while back. I vowed never again. Was betrothed to be married, we was, but she wouldn’t stick by me when Lady Clifton died and poor Lord Westbury were so badly injured. On death’s door, he was.” He nodded to himself. “‘Never again,’ I tells meself. ‘Sparks,’ I says, ‘if a woman can’t stick by ye through the hard times, she ain’t the right woman for ye.’” Then his face lit up. “But then, lately, I says to meself, ‘Not all women is the same, and maybe I’ll think of taking a wife sometime.’ But now is not the time, I reckon, what with being in France and all.”

“Wise man,” James said, reflecting on his own recent thoughts on the matter. He raised his mug. “In the meantime, here’s to the two nice ’uns.”

Sparks grinned and raised his own mug. “I ’spect ye’ve yer eye on our Lady Anna, if I’m not mistaken.”

James leaned forward. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sparks. You are not mistaken. But as a gentleman, I will use restraint and refrain for any untoward advances, for her sake and reputation.” Especially after what had happened in Paris. He sipped his ale and then began to assemble a sandwich from the fare in front of him, as did Sparks. It might actually kill him to keep his distance from Anna. But needs must.

The “two nice ’uns” arrived shortly thereafter, and they all ate in mutual silence.