Of course, when he’d made the decision to ride, he had been thinking of how it would be had he been traveling on his own, not with this menagerie of eccentrics.
How many times had they ground to a halt at Juliet’s insistence to regard some interesting view? Her, hanging out the window and scribbling down various odes to farmhouses and cows. Beatrice, scolding him when he mentioned they’d better proceed on.
A poetess required inspiration, he was told. He’d held his tongue, though he would have really liked to point out that an ode to a wondrous orb circle that was not tragically purple could hardly be considered inspired.
Every time they stopped to change horses it could not be done speedily. No, of course not, because Cordelia would suggest tea, and then Rosalind would comment that if they would have tea they might as well have a plate of ham and rolls.
And then, Viola had somehow turned herself into the slowest eater in England. Matthew would stare at her to hint that she ought to speed up. She would stare back as she chewed one tiny bite at a time. How could one slice of ham take so long?
At any given posthouse, Beatrice was not interested in food, but only on the impression she might be making. She wished the door to their private dining room left open and placed herself in view of the doorway so she might be admired by passing gentlemen. This, of course, was only done so she might act shocked and demand the door be closed when shewasadmired.
How many times was a poor servant told, “Do leave the door open, we require air,” only to be told minutes later, “Do shut that door, if you please. I despise impertinent gentlemen who peer in at me!”
And what did the earl think of all these ridiculous maneuvers? Did he go mad with frustration? Did he stamp his foot in a temper?
No, somehow he did not. He seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
Blessedly, The Lamb, with its comforting sturdy stone walls and clay roof tiles, came into view. Day one of this three-day adventure was finally stumbling to a close.
Or maybe he was being too optimistic in imagining they would actually arrive in London in a matter of three days. If this day was anything to go by, they might be traveling for the rest of their lives.
If Dante still lived, Matthew would fire off a letter to him noting that he forgot to mention thetenthcircle of hell—the road from Taunton to London.
*
Beatrice looked roundthe tidy room in The Lamb that she would share with Rosalind and Viola. Three narrow beds lined up in a row, a dresser for their things, and a view of a charming garden.
On one side of the room, there was a connecting door to the room housing her aunt, Cordelia, and Juliet. On the other, a door led to the bedchamber housing their maids. It could not be more perfect.
The entire day had been perfect. What fun they’d had! They had stopped several times along the way to admire a particularly charming vista. Juliet had even been so inspired that she’d written three more odes.
The changing of horses had been no less engaging, as there were all sorts of people coming and going. All sorts of people Beatrice had never seen before, and who had not seenherbefore either.
It was very interesting to note what effect she might have on a gentleman stranger.
“Just think, Bea,” Viola said, as Lynette fussed with Beatrice’s hair, “your true love is out there somewhere. Now that we have left our own neighborhood, he might be anywhere at all. He might be walking into this very inn at this very moment, neither of you having any idea that you are about to be struck at the sight of one another.”
“I know it,” Beatrice said. “I kept my eyes open all day long in case he were to appear. A number of gentlemen in the posthouses tried to catch my eye, but I was not struck by any of them.”
“Oh, do wait to be struck until we get to Town, Bea,” Rosalind said. “I shouldn’t like you to engage yourself before you’ve even been to a ball.”
“That is true, of course,” Beatrice said.
Before she could devise a practical way of meeting her true love and getting engaged while in Hindon, but still going on to London and balls, her aunt came through the connecting door, followed by Juliet and Cordelia.
“I am just finishing, Miss Mayton,” Lynette said, adding a final pin to Beatrice’s hair.
“Then we are ready to descend for dinner,” Miss Mayton said.
“I do hope it is not ham,” Cordelia said. “I have been eating ham all day long.”
“I ate mine very slowly,” Viola said, “to see if I could drive Van Doren mad.”
“Goodness,that’swhat you were doing,” Miss Mayton said. “You should have said, my dear. I would have joined you in it.”
“Let’s all eat ham very slowly all day tomorrow and see what happens,” Juliet said.
With that genial plan agreed on, the sisters made their way downstairs.
