minutes later.
“ It ’ s all right. I ’ ll get used to it. It ’ s only ... you none of you understand: you talk as if it was all some kind of game. Not real; not real people, fighting, dying, drowning ...” her voice rose dangerously and she steadied it with an effort. “ I hope you never learn. ”
“ I hope we never need to. ” His dry tone reminded her of how much he disliked any display of emotion. “ But the question now is, are you quite worn out? Should we rest here for a day? ”
Every bone in her body ached to say yes, but how could she? “ Of course not. I know how you must long to be at home. ”
“ I shall be glad to get there certainly. ” Once again his tone made her regret her proffered sympathy. “ That ’ s fine then. I ’ ll go right out and order us an extra exclusive for tomorrow. ”
“ Extra exclusive? ” Here was a phrase she had never heard before.
“ A coach to ourselves. It ’ s the quickest way of finishing the journey. ”
“ By ourselves? ” She regretted it instantly.
“ Why not? You ’ re not in England now, Mrs. Croston. I remember how absurd I found it to see how your young women are hedged about with restrictions—as if they had no sense. We have more confidence in our girls here, I ’ m glad to say. But of course if you don ’ t like the idea— ”
What a genius he had for getting her, quite accidentally, on the raw. Did he really think she might be scared to travel alone with him, when he noticed her merely as a necessary piece, of extra baggage! She could not help an angry little laugh. “ Nonsense, Mr. Penrose. I feel as safe with you as I would with my grandfather. But Mrs. Penrose— ” She was remembering Janet Mason.
“ Arabella? She ’ ll think nothing of it. Why should she? ” Why indeed? Why should not Jonathan Penrose, of Penrose, bring home the new nursemaid?
But he had moved toward the porch door. “ That ’ s settled then. I ’ ll order the coach now and we ’ ll start first thing in the morning. ”
“ How much longer now? ” Suddenly she wished this journey would go on forever.
“ Only two days, I hope. But we ’ ve no posting system here, as you have in England, so we ’ ll have to spare the horses. ”
“ Of course. ” If not the passengers, she thought with a little spurt of anger.
The extra exclusive coach turned out to be merely a rather battered specimen of the usual boat-shaped type, with a surly driver who amazed Kate by asking no questions. But he kn ew his business, and took them up the winding, precipitous road over the Green Mountains without mishap. It was, to begin with, a silent enough drive. Pride ’ s Hotel, though more luxurious than the little inns where they had stayed before, had also been a great deal noisier. All night, it seemed to Kate, bells had been ringing, parties coming and going, horses whinnying and harness jingling in the yard below her bedroom window. This on top of the cumulative fatigue of the journey left her, this morning, almost beyond speech, her eyelids graveled with sleep, the mere action of sitting upright on the hard seat a conscious effort.
Jonathan, too, seemed preoccupied, brooding, no doubt, about the two days that must still separate him from Arabella. Or was he feeling the awkwardness of this enforced t e te a tete? She certainly did. She was not going to forget again that she was in his service, not even a governess, but the lowest kind of nursemaid, and dependent on him for everything. And, worst of all, she had thrust herself upon him. Suppose Arabella or, worse still, little Sarah should take a dislike to her? Suppose, as Jonathan himself had suggested, she found she simply could not manage Sarah. What then? She had spoken boldly enough, back at York, of having money of her own, but the bills she had seen him paying along the way had taught her how little it was. Was he, perhaps, as he sat beside her, silent and withdrawn, wondering whether he had wasted his
Learning to Kill: Stories