Page 5 of The Colonel's Ungovernable Governess
She was considering returning to her father’s estate. Jocelyn had most assuredly not anticipated how difficult it would be for a woman in England to travel alone. Only one innkeeper finally agreed to permit her to share a small mattress in the kitchen before the fire with the girl who washed dishes and assisted his wife with the cooking. Though Jocelyn had funds to pay for a proper room, the man claimed it too dangerous for a young woman to stay alone, for men who had imbibed deeply in their cups might take on the idea of invading her quarters.
She understood the man’s reasoning, but she desperately required a full night’s sleep. Now, she studied the finger post and debated upon which road to take. She had been informed by a friendly farmer and his wife, if Jocelyn chose to continue north and west, she would encounter several cities which had sprouted up due to manufacturing, which might provide her employment, but there were also long stretches of moors and hilly sections growing into mountains, which could be dangerous for someone who did not know the area.
“I wish I knew something of England’s shires. I believe I have successfully avoided the roads to London and my mother, but I seem to keep crisscrossing Herts and Essex, but where next?” She felt herself sway in the saddle and her vision blur. She knew she had not drunk enough water, but using the woods for her facilities had not been part of her plan nor had she considered not being able to find shelter. She had slept in wet clothing for two of the last three nights, and Jocelyn did not know whether her unclear thinking was a result of exhaustion or an unexpected illness.
Off in the distance she heard a carriage and horses, and she forced herself to concentrate on the sound and the need to maneuver her horse to the road jutting off to the right so those inside the coach would not view her. She wished no more attention than necessary. Covering her head with her cloak, she backed her mare deeper into the brush. She held her breath and waited for the coach to pass, but she had not counted on her horse also feeling spooked by yet another encounter. The mare bolted forward, and Jocelyn’s had been thrown first backwards and then in the direction of the horse’s head. She was tossed about as the horse attempted to find its footing, with her finally sliding from the horse’s back. She dangled, half upside down along the mare’s side for a few perilous seconds before the cloak she wore tore, and she slammed hard against the embedded stones of the road. Her chin struck a brick, snapping her mouth shut and sending her into a mirror of blackness before her eyes closed as her body settled on the road’s slick surface.
* * *
“Miss? Miss?” someone was saying as a cool cloth wiped her cheeks. Jocelyn wished the person would wipe her lips, for a few drops of water would be refreshing. “Miss! Miss! Open your eyes.”
Though Jocelyn would enjoy going to sleep, her breeding demanded that she should respond. Therefore, she opened her eyes to find the worried expression on the countenance of a youngish woman, who could be related to her, for they shared the same shaped face and a similar color of hair.
“I caught the horse, Mrs. Darcy,” a man said from somewhere off to the left, but Jocelyn did not dare to look to the sound. She was having enough trouble keeping the woman’s features in focus. “The mare has a cut on her leg, which I have wrapped, but it should be tended to properly when we reach Mr. Bingley’s estate.”
“Thank you, Mr. Farrin. I am exceedingly glad my husband could spare you for this journey. I always feel safer when you are in the box.” Without Jocelyn’s permission, the woman ordered, “Mr. Jasper, could you lift the lady into my coach.”
“I will assist Jasper, ma’am,” the man called “Farrin” said. “Permit me to tie the horse to the back of the young master’s carriage.”
Jocelyn thought to protest, but she was too weak and too exhausted to give voice to the men’s gallantry. They jostled her about to lift her from the ground, but soon they cradled her between them, and she released a sigh of contentment for the gift to the warmth of their bodies.
“Careful,” the woman instructed as “Mr. Jasper” took Jocelyn’s weight, while “Mr. Farrin” crawled into the coach to accept her person. On his knees, “Mr. Farrin” lifted her high enough so she might lie upon the padded bench seat. Despite her best efforts to speak her gratitude, a heavy sigh was all she could manage. Over the last few days, she had thought never again to know such luxury.
The coach shifted when Mr. Farrin dismounted, but immediately shifted a second time, but not so dramatically, when the woman from the road joined Jocelyn inside. A light scent of lavender filled the small compartment. Jocelyn was attempting to recall the woman’s name when another female voice said, “Pardon, Mrs. Darcy, but Master Bennet wishes his mother. His gums are bothering him something terrible. I used a drop of the cognac to numb the pain, but he is still fussy.”
“Do you have the coral ring, Hannah?” the lady asked.
“It is still in the other carriage, ma’am.”
“Give me the child and fetch the ring.”
The coach shifted again, but Jocelyn did not open her eyes to view the goings on. As long as the woman thought her injured, the lady would permit Jocelyn to rest on the bench. She could hear the woman say, “So these teeth are hurting, are they, my child? No more tears. Your mother has just what you require, love.”
“Here is the ring, Mrs. Darcy,” the other woman said.
A bit more shifting of the carriage occurred, yet, Jocelyn did not move.
“How much longer, Mr. Farrin?” the one known as “Mrs. Darcy” asked.
“A little less than an hour, ma’am.”
“Good. Our guest will require someone to tend to her, and young Mr. Darcy requires a proper nap, though I imagine between the cognac on his gums and my holding him tightly, he shall be sound asleep in moments.”
“I am confident Mrs. Bingley will wish to hold her nephew when we reach Logan Hall.”
“Is such correct, my boy?” the lady asked in teasing tones.
Without further conversation, the carriage door was closed and locked. Seconds later, the driver and footman climbed back onto the box, and the gentle rocking of the coach, as well as the beautiful lullaby the woman sang to her child lured both the boy and Jocelyn to sleep.
Chapter Three
Edward had drunk too much last evening. He had called at Darcy House, and he and Darcy had played chess and, later, sat before the fire and spoke of family. “I suppose I always knew the title would eventually fall to me, but I cannot say I am fond of this situation. Having a wife and children about with the snap of one’s fingers is almost too much to consider.”
“Even when Lindale claims his last breath, Lady Lindale is still the children’s mother,” Darcy argued. “It would not be necessary for you to consider them your ‘stepchildren,’ you know.”
“Such does not mean Lady Elaine will not be entitled to some sort of settlement and her care would now fall to the Matlock earldom, not the Babcock one. She lost her widow’s rights to the Babcock earldom with her marriage to Lindale. The Babcock men of business and the brother, Philip Jennings, agreed to a monetary payment in lieu of her dowager claim to interest in the estate. I am convinced Lady Lindale will mean to take up residence in the Matlock dower house, even though my mother still lives. I have not read the agreement between Lady Lindale and my father, but I mean to do so when I return to Derbyshire. I know she was eager to claim another man’s protection, and Lindale required the illusion of normalcy.”
“And you think you will be expected to assume the care of the children, even though their mother lives?” Darcy asked.
