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‘Things I want.’ It was a miracle that she had not blurted out, you, he had made her jump so.
‘Oh, shopping.’ Theo pushed back his plate. ‘We’ll stop in Arnay le Duc first thing, then push on to Mâcon for the night. Then it’s a relatively easy drive down to Lyon and after that Grenoble, the last stop before Maubourg.’ She nodded, reassured that she had three days to decide what to do, and how to do it. ‘You know what you want, then? Are you going to put it on the list?’
‘No. I’ll remember without any trouble.’ She looked up and smiled but Theo was already on his feet, ringing for the waiter.
Arnay behind them, their valises reassuringly full of essentials, Theo sent the horses down the long road to Mâcon at a steady pace while Elinor packed things away and tried to snatch sketches from the bouncing seat.
After lunch she climbed back up on the box again, ignoring the effect of wind and dust on her complexion and the hardness of the seat under her. ‘Why only a pair? Must we be careful with money?’
‘No. I thought we would be expected to take four, and in any case there is no great hurry. I could buy another pair, I suppose, and make up a team.’ He flicked the whip down to discourage a small pack of village dogs that had come tumbling and barking out o
f a farm gate. ‘I might do that after Lyon, the hills will be steeper.’
‘Is it difficult driving a pair?’ He was still only using one hand for the reins, his whip hand only coming across when he needed to loop a rein to take a corner. She frowned at his fingers, trying to work out what went where.
‘More difficult than a single horse, as you’d expect. Why? Do you want to drive?’ He turned his head to grin at her. ‘It will make your shoulders stiff.’
‘I’ll try for a bit. They seem steady enough.’
‘All right.’ He moved over to the right. ‘Come into the middle as much as possible—now open your hands.’
It took five minutes of fumbling, and considerable confusion for the pair, before she was settled sitting snug against Theo, the length of his hip and thigh pressed against hers, his left arm round the back of her, resting on the rail. ‘I’ll keep the whip and help you with the reins when we come to a bend.’
Somehow, as they bowled along, the Burgundian countryside unfolding green and gold on either side, the rows of vines stretching like the marks of a giant comb up every south-facing slope, his arm came up and round her shoulders and his right hand came over and guided hers more and more until they were driving together. There was no need to talk, no need to do anything but feel the companionship and the shared pleasure in what they were doing.
It was like that first walk along the river bank. Theo would nudge her and she would look round to see a vivid patch of flowers in front of a cottage, or children playing tag in and out of the puddles around a public wash house. She would murmur and he would look up as a buzzard swept overhead, mewing, or a white horse in a field galloped down to whinny at their pair as they passed.
‘There’s Mâcon ahead.’ Theo took the reins back. ‘I don’t remember a day when I’ve spent more time doing virtually nothing and yet enjoyed myself so much.’
‘No.’ Moving back to her side of the box and smoothing down her skirts before they reached the streets, Elinor nodded in perfect comprehension. ‘It was like a day from childhood, taking sights and experiences as they came with no worries, nothing to do but be.’
Beside her Theo chuckled. ‘I like that: Nothing to do but be. You are taking years off me, Nell. Hold tight, here we are.’
As he swung the team through the gates of the inn, Elinor watched his face: focused, intent, strong. No, they might have taken a day out of childhood, but this was not a boy. This was a man.
Chapter Eighteen
Macon, and a night spent chastely in their own beds lay behind them, Lyon was just ahead in the late afternoon sunlight. Theo had kept the reins the whole way, saying he wanted to get to Lyon before evening and Elinor had secretly welcomed the chance to recover from yesterday’s stiff shoulders and aching back.
She stretched as they climbed down into the courtyard of the Phaison Blanc. Theo was negotiating with the landlord for rooms and ordering hot water immediately. ‘Come along, upstairs for a quick wash, then we are going out.’ He was up to something, she could tell. Some excitement was bubbling underneath. Willing to indulge him, Elinor hurried to do as he asked, reappearing in the courtyard to find him hat in hand, hair ruthlessly combed.
‘Where are we going?’ Without thinking she tucked her hand under his elbow and allowed herself to be guided along the crowded footway.
‘We will be in a Grand Ducal court soon.’
‘Yes, I know.’ That was not news.
‘I intend we look the part.’ Theo stopped in front of a discreet green-painted shop window displaying a length of figured silk, a pair of kid gloves and a fan. ‘In we go.’
Ten minutes later Elinor found herself abandoned to the mercies of a team of interested semptresses under the direction of their employer, who had received detailed orders from Theo. Bewildered, Elinor saw large amounts of money change hands while she struggled to keep up with the rapid-fire exchange of French.
‘Theo—what on earth—?’ She managed before he was out of the door.
‘I’ll be back, just going to find a tailor.’ Then she was staring at a closed door and hands were tugging her gently towards screens at the back of the shop.
‘Madame, s’il-vous plaît.’ Abandoned, and not at all sure she knew her way back, Elinor surrendered to having her outer clothes stripped off, to the accompaniment of much interested comment on her divided skirt, and being comprehensively measured, prodded and subjected to length after length of fabric being held up to her face.
It was like being gently assaulted by a flock of small, but very determined, birds. Just why measuring her for one gown, which she supposed was Theo’s intention, should take so much fuss, she had no idea, but she was tired and her French vocabulary failed her.
