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The smile he gave her was warm and welcoming, as if to make up for her husband’s shyness. Or perhaps it was that the man was unable to crane his head upwards? He had spent the entire ceremony looking into his lap, as if the blanket there held great fascination.
At the wedding breakfast, her husband ate nothing. He sipped tea when it arrived, spilling most of it down his chin. Nobody made note of this, wilfully looking the other way.
After the modest breakfast, they departed for the Baron’s estate in his landau. Mama and Jane’s maid Abigail would follow in a carriage behind.
A pair of magnificent chestnut horses whickered and pawed the ground, ready to take them home.
The footman and the driver worked each side of the landau to secure the roof into place to keep the rain at bay. Then the footman bodily lifted the Baron into his seat and made him comfortable, before extending a hand to assist Jane into her seat. The driver stepped up into his position on the box and they were off to her new life.
How strange that the footman remained inside the carriage, rather than riding behind in his designated position?
As if reading her thoughts, the footman said, “I daresay, Ma’am, this is unusual. However, the Baron is prone to napping at inopportune moments, and if he slipped whilst the carriage was in motion, we would have great difficulty in his safe removal.”
“How thoughtful,” Jane managed.
The Baron made a muffled noise of “Notdeadyet!” but did not lift his head.
The carriage rocked and swayed towards the Baron’s estate. It would take hours, and Jane quickly became irritated with the extended silence.
“My Lord,” she said, attempting to strike up a conversation with her husband. “It was a lovely service, was it not?”
“Muh?” He muttered, still not lifting his head.
Jane raised her voice, “A lovely service.”
It elicited a mumbled “Hmm, ‘pose so.”
The footman spoke up, “He tires easily, My Lady, he may need some sleep.”
Jane could see why the footman had such a position. He was tall and apparently strong, judging by the way he’d carried his master into the carriage. He was handsome, as would be expected of a footman, but he also showed great gentleness in caring for the Baron, something which made him even more attractive in Jane’s eyes.
In a few moments, the footman had wrapped the Baron with more blankets and laid him further onto the squabs so that he could sleep more comfortably. It meant that the footman had no space of his own to sit, so he moved himself into the space beside Jane.
Their thighs touched as the carriage bumped, sending a jolt of something Jane did not recognise through her.
The footman immediately apologised.
“I do beg your pardon.”
Jane used the motion of the next series of bumps to press herself closer to the window. The carriage tilted and she found herself thrown against him.
“Goodness,” she cried, “I am dreadfully sorry.”
“My fault, My Lady,” he said, “I have not had time to replace all of the handles. If you should like to change positions, there is a handle here you may cling to.”
A lovely sentiment, but there was no chance of them exchanging seats as the carriage rocked and rolled like this.
“I will be fine,” she said.
The Baron began snoring voluminously, then suddenly stopped.
“Is he?”
Jane feared that the Baron had stopped breathing all together.
A noisy inhale had him breathing again, and Jane’s tension ebbed.
“Goodness, I thought for a moment there that he may have breathed his last.”
