A Penniless Prospect. Joanna Maitland

cloak billowed.

      ‘Now we must wait.’

      Dawn came slowly, a half-hearted winter light.

      Still they waited.

      After what seemed a very long time, the sound of hooves was heard in the nearby lane. Jamie crept forward to crouch behind the hedge. Yes, it was the Calderwood gig, driven by the old groom, with Smithers sitting very upright in her place, staring straight in front of her.

      Jamie returned to her mare. ‘Now, the only risk is that old Timothy will decide to stop to wet his whistle at the inn instead of going straight back to Calderwood, as he ought.’ She continued to wait, listening intently. Some fifteen minutes later, she was rewarded by the sound of the returning gig. If Timothy had slaked his thirst, he had not stayed long to do it. Jamie watched with satisfaction as the gig passed out of sight.

      ‘And now it really is goodbye, Cara,’ whispered Jamie, releasing the mare, removing the rope halter and throwing it into the hole which she then filled in with her bare hands, allowing the dirt to get under her fingernails and into her skin.

      She turned to stroke the mare once more. ‘Go home, Cara. Back to your warm stable.’ Then she picked up her bundle and made her way down to the lane. Behind her, the horse pulled idly at a few tufts of thin grass. There was almost nothing to eat at this time of year. Soon she would be hungry enough to find her way back to Calderwood.

      Jamie did not look back. Adopting the easy stride of a boy, she walked on to the village, whistling.

      At the inn, all was bustle. No one took any notice of a slightly grubby boy, anxiously looking around as if in search of something. Jamie ventured into the inn, keeping her hat pulled low over her face. In the taproom, she found Smithers alone, seated primly on a bench by the wall. Jamie sat down beside her.

      ‘What, may I ask, do you want, young man?’ asked Smithers crisply, though her voice was not hostile.

      ‘I need your help, Smithers,’ pleaded Jamie softly, looking up at her. ‘Please don’t give me away.’

      ‘Good God! Miss Jessamyne! What on earth are you about?’ Luckily, Smithers did not have a carrying voice.

      ‘Please, Smithers! Help me! I need to escape. I cannot marry that terrible man. All I need is a few weeks. Then I shall be safe.’

      ‘What do you mean about “a few weeks”, miss?’ the abigail asked, in a low voice.

      ‘Don’t call me that. Someone will hear. Just call me “Jamie”.’ Jamie searched the maid’s face for a sign that she might relent, but there was none. Jamie swallowed hard. ‘In a few weeks, I shall be twenty-one. Then, no one can force me into marriage with him. All I have to do is stay in hiding until I come of age. Please help me, Smithers!’

      Jamie felt the woman’s slow scrutiny. Surely the proposed bridegroom made even Smithers’ flesh creep?

      The abigail lifted one of Jamie’s grubby hands and brushed it across Jamie’s cheek so that it left a dirty streak. ‘You’d better start calling me “Annie”, don’t you think?’ she smiled.

      ‘Oh, bless you!’ cried Jamie, hugging the older woman impetuously.

      ‘Hey! That’s enough of that,’ cried Smithers, pushing her away. ‘I haven’t said I’ll help you yet.’ She paused. ‘It will depend on precisely what you want from me. Well?’

      Jamie launched into her prepared speech. ‘You said you were going to Bath on the stage…er…Annie. I only want you to help me to get a seat too. I have the money to pay, don’t worry. And, once we reach Bath, I can look after myself.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yes. I plan to… But perhaps it would be better for both of us if I kept my plans to myself. Then, if anyone should ask, you can truthfully say you don’t know, can’t you?’ She beamed innocently at the abigail. ‘It sounds pretty rum to me, I must say. And, if I help you to get on the stage, I will be involved, whatever you choose to do about telling me your plans. How am I to explain that away?’

      ‘No one will be looking for a boy, Annie, I promise you. These clothes belong to Edmund. He won’t be back from Harrow for weeks and weeks, so nobody will notice they are missing. And all the clothes in my pack are my own, so when they discover I am gone, they will be searching for a girl.’

      ‘Hmph. And what if they discover that the lady’s maid from Calderwood Hall was suddenly to be found in the company of a young lad?’

      ‘They won’t. I don’t want us to be together. I just want you to tell me how I go about obtaining a seat on the Bath stage. Then I’ll do it myself.’

      Annie Smithers seemed to be wavering. ‘It won’t do, Miss Jamie, I’m afraid. A young lad travelling by himself and buying his own seat at the last minute would be bound to attract attention. They’d wonder if you were running away from school.’ Jamie’s suddenly despondent expression must have shocked her. ‘Don’t take on so, miss. Look, I can help a little. I’ll go and see if I can buy an extra seat on the stage for you. Give me the money. Right. Now, you stay here. I don’t want them to know it’s for you.’ Pocketing Jamie’s coins, Smithers left the taproom.

      In five minutes, she was back. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Jamie. It can’t be done. Mine was the last place on the stage. There’s no way he’ll take you, I’m afraid.’

      Jamie sat down heavily on the wooden bench. She had tried to plan for every eventuality, but she had not foreseen this. She dared not hang around the inn waiting for the next stage in hopes of getting a seat. Too many people from Calderwood and the nearby villages used the Boar’s Head. She would very likely be recognised by someone.

      Jamie groaned in anguish, clenching her fists. Then she slumped dejectedly against the wall. It had all been for nothing.

      A cool voice from the doorway interrupted them. ‘Why, it’s Smithers, is it not? And in some difficulty, if I am not mistaken. How tiresome!’

      Chapter Five

      At the sound of that deep authoritative voice, Jamie felt a shudder run through her body. She knew exactly who had uttered those deceptively simple words. But, now that she was finally to meet the man whose image had been haunting her, she did not dare to turn round to look at him. What if he saw through her disguise? What if…? She shrank further into her boy’s clothes, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Why did his arrival affect her so? He could not recognise her, for he had never set eyes on her, but somehow there was something incredibly threatening about his very presence. She sat staring at the floor, her hands clasped tightly together, as if in supplication.

      Smithers, by contrast, was facing up to this unexpected arrival who seemed to find their presence so tiresome. She dropped a quick curtsy and then, without any kind of warning, cuffed Jamie lightly round the ear. ‘Stand up at once, Jamie, and make your bow to Lord Hardinge.’

      Jamie rapidly obeyed, trying her best to bow as Edmund did and to conceal her dismay as she did so. What on earth was Smithers going to say? And do?

      ‘I beg your pardon for my brother’s want of manners, my lord,’ continued Smithers quickly. ‘He’s worried, you see, because there’s no room for him on the stage. They must have made a mistake up at the Hall and booked only one seat instead of two.’ She shrugged. ‘We’ll just have to wait, I suppose.’

      Lord Hardinge looked inquiringly at the abigail. ‘A sudden departure, I collect?’

      Smithers swallowed. ‘Urgent family business, my lord. I have to get Jamie to Bath quickly. He’s been… er…with me more or less since Mother died, you see, and now there’s a chance of a situation for him in Bath. But I need to be sure he’s settled. I promised my mother I would.’

      ‘Ah yes, very laudable, Smithers, very.’ He looked hard at Jamie. ‘And how old are you, my lad?’

      Jamie found she