“Tea?” Aunt Dottie said in a voice of loathing. “Cake?I am talking life or death and you offer me tea and cake?”
Just then they heard the sound of a carriage pulling up outside. “Is that for me?” Aunt Dottie pushed past Burton and wrenched open the front door. “Yes, yes, it is. A lovely shiny yellow bounder. Now give me my baggage, Burton, or I’ll go without it.”
The butler said in a low voice to George, “You can’t let the old lady travel all the way to Bath on her own, Lady George. Not in a hired carriage.”
“Who are you calling an old lady?” Aunt Dottie demanded. She jumped and made a grab for the bandbox, pulled it from his despairing grasp and hurried down the steps, calling to the postboy to help her.
“Lady George, you have to stop her.”
“How? I can’t very well wrestle her to the ground or lock her up,” George said. “She’s determined to leave at once and—oh, lord! Wait, Aunt Dottie,” she called out. “I’ll come with you. Give me two minutes.” To Burton she said, “Send a footman to hold that postilion. The state she’s in, I don’t trust her not to leave without me.”
Burton made a strangled sound of protest, but he snapped his fingers and sent a footman running. “You can’t mean it, Lady George. Go all the way to Bath without any preparation?”
She turned a hunted look on him. “There’s no other choice. Cal isn’t here, and I don’t want to distress Emm—she’s still recovering from the baby—so what else is there to do? As you said, Aunt Dottie can’t go all that way on her own, and even if we sent a maid or footman with her, can you see her listening to a servant in this state? Now quickly, give me a pencil and paper—I’ll leave a note for Cal and you can explain it in more detail.”
Burton handed her some notepaper and a pencil. “But you don’t have any luggage, m’lady.”
George scrawled a hurried explanation. “I don’t care about luggage. Send some after me if you want, or I’ll buy or borrow something. I don’t know what’s got her so distressed, so I have no idea how long I’ll be away.” She thrust the note at him. “Give that to my uncle when he gets in and tell him what’s happened.”
Finn, with a dog’s instinct for any change in routine, trotted up behind her, pressed against her legs and gave her a meaningful, where-are-we-going look. She glanced at the post chaise. It was too small to fit two people and a large, hairy dog.
She clipped his lead on, scratched him affectionately behind the ears. Murmuring apologies to Finn, she handedthe lead to Burton. “Don’t let him follow the coach—because he will if you give him the slightest opportunity.”
Burton snapped his fingers to summon a footman and passed him the lead. “Give the animal a meaty bone and lock him in the garden. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Dragging against his lead, Finn was led reluctantly away as if to his execution.
George felt ridiculously sad to be leaving her dog behind. They’d never been separated before. “You will take good care of him while I’m away, won’t you, Burton?”
“Of course, m’lady. Now, do you have any money? I doubt Lady Dorothea has even thought of it.”
“No. Oh, curses! What will I do without—”
“Here.” Burton unlocked a drawer and pulled out a small wad of banknotes. “That should cover you both until you get to Bath.”
“Burton, you’re a treasure. I could kiss you!” She grabbed the notes and, wishing she was still in her riding breeches which had sensible things like pockets, stuffed the notes into her bodice, grabbed Aunt Dottie’s portmanteau, ran to the post chaise and climbed in.
“Nowmove, postboy,” Aunt Dottie shouted. “Spring ’em!”
George sat back, waiting in silence while the postilion skillfully steered them through the ever-shifting tangle of London traffic. Aunt Dottie was clearly too anxious for conversation. She sat, leaning forward on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed against the glass window that stretched across the front of the carriage. “Faster, faster, faster!” she urged the postboy. Not that he could hear her from his position on the back of the left-side horse, thank goodness.
It might have been better to hire four horses, instead of two, but Aunt Dottie was in no state to think of that, and clearly the young footman didn’t know to order four. Good. George had never had to hire a post chaise before—never even traveled in one—but she’d heard they were expensive, and four horses and two postilions would be even more expensive. She pulled out the money Burton had given her,and surreptitiously counted it before tucking it back inside her bodice. She’d come away without even a reticule.
Finally the city fell behind them. They’d passed through Kensington, the traffic had lessened, the road was smooth and well-made and the carriage bowled along at a smart clip. They couldn’t keep that up for long, George knew, but it served to relax Aunt Dottie somewhat. She sat back against the leather squabs and heaved a sigh.
George took the old lady’s hand. “Now, Aunt Dottie, tell me, what’s all this about?”
Aunt Dottie gave her a puzzled look. “Didn’t I tell you, dear? Logan is dreadfully ill.”
“Logan? Your butler?” All this, because her butler was sick?
“My Logan, yes. Cook wrote to say he was ill, running a terrible fever. They’d had the doctor to him, but she thought it best if I come.” Her mouth wobbled. Her eyes filled. “You know why people want you to come when someone is terribly ill, don’t you? Because they think... because they expect...” She burst into tears.
George put her arms around the old lady and let her sob into her shoulder. Her mind was whirling. She knew Logan had worked for Aunt Dottie for years, but this was an overreaction, surely.
And then she thought, what if it were Martha who was ill, possibly dying, maybe even already dead. Martha, who had been like a mother to her. Would not George race to be at her bedside?
She rubbed Aunt Dottie’s back in a slow, soothing rhythm and, once the sobs had quietened, Aunt Dottie curled into the corner of the seat and closed her eyes. Poor thing, she must be exhausted by all the worry and the emotional storm. George pulled a rug out from a compartment and tucked it around the old lady, and soon she was asleep.
The journey stretched before her. Wishing she’d brought a book, George put her feet up against the front of the carriage and watched the countryside slip by. Aunt Dottie slept on. It was only when they stopped to change horses that shewoke, and urged that they get moving again with all speed. Once they were back on the road, she dozed off again.
