Jack on the Box (3 page)

Jack felt all the justness of her remark as he recalled the lady’s attractive appearance. It had been a long time, he reflected, since he had been in the company of a lady. But he did not reveal his feelings to the irate passenger. He merely bowed to the surprised woman with an exaggerated flourish.

“There, now, madam, you’ve discovered my reason for not asking
you
to sit on the box beside me,” he said.

The other passengers greeted this sally with hoots of laughter, and the red-faced woman turned an even deeper shade of red. But she was far from displeased to receive a compliment from such a handsome, well-spoken young man. She waved Jack away with a muffled, “Go on with you now!” and remarks to her fellow passengers about his sauciness to a woman of her years.

Jack remounted the box and glanced at his companion. He could tell by her heightened colour that she had heard his exchange with the woman and was trying to appear as if she had not. But Davies blew impatiently on his horn, so with no more than a respectful tip of his hat to the lady beside him, Jack took up the reins and started off once again.

From time to time, he stole a look at his companion’s profile. She was so small that her feet did not reach the footboard, and she was obliged to hold on tightly with both hands as Jack drove the coach rapidly around corners to make up for the time he had lost. Soon they were out in the country and traveling at a more even pace where the road was straighter, and she could relax her hold.

“I hope you will not have any reason to regret taking me up,” she ventured after a while. “I only need to go as far as Hockley Heath, so you may let me down there. Shall I give you the fifteen shillings now?”

Jack laughed. “You might offer them to the young gentleman for giving up his seat to you,” he said, jerking his head towards the rear of the coach. “But I think he is even better pleased to be riding illegally in the back than he was in front. And I make it a practice not to charge ladies who ride upon my box.”

He could feel her start at his answer. But he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, and his serious tone must have reassured her, for she thanked him with polite composure.

They rode for a while in silence. Jack was conscious of her skirt brushing against his leg, though she was seated as far from him as the seat would allow. He found himself wishing that she would speak to him again. He was curious, too, about why she needed to travel so urgently, but his sense of discretion would not allow him to question her, even if she knew him as Mr. Jack Henley. His current occupation was an even greater barrier to such a liberty.

Presently, he risked another glance in her direction. She was smiling in quiet contentment as she gazed about the countryside, seemingly free of that earlier anxiety. Whatever had caused her to flee in haste appeared to have been dismissed from her mind.

The breeze, which was made by the speed of the coach, played with the curls that peeked from beneath her bonnet. Her eyes were alight with enjoyment, and her small feet swung with each bounce of the coach to tap against the wooden foreboot beneath the box. Jack was happy to see that his initial assessment of her character had been correct. She was indeed a good-natured lady with a lively disposition. The glow of enthusiasm in her cheeks inspired him with a rare sense of pleasure. Her carefree air awoke a strange elation in him.

She must have sensed his eyes upon her, for she suddenly directed him a question.

“What is this kind of coach called?” she asked. “Is it the Highflyer?”

“No, that’s a name for one of the stagecoaches,” he said, with a mixture of amusement and authority. “This is a patent coach, with a telegraph spring.”

“It feels like a telegraph, it moves so quickly,” she said. “With my feet dangling in the air and the smooth bounce it gives, I feel as if I’m flying. Your coach is very well sprung,” she concluded approvingly. “I shall have to tell my grandfather.”

Jack smothered a laugh. He knew she had intended the remark as a generous compliment. “Thank you, miss,” he said gravely. “Is your grandfather a coaching gentleman?”

“Not any more,” she said, with a hint of sadness. “But there was a time when he was quite good with the ribbons. He once raced from Maidenhead to Ascot in thirty-five minutes,” she added proudly.

“That’s an excellent time,” Jack declared, in his enthusiasm forgetting to restrain his conversation. “I doubt I could do it faster myself.”

“Oh, grandpapa had quite a reputation. He was an active member of the Benson Driving Club until quite recently. He used to take me up beside him on the box when I was only a baby, though my mother tried to prevent him.”

Hearing this, Jack reckoned that her childhood experiences would explain her present sense of ease on the jolting box. He found it easy to picture her as a little girl holding on tightly and laughing with delight.

“Any gentleman would be proud to have you sitting beside him,” he said, without thinking, “with your pretty curls and your smile.”

The young lady eyed him in sudden dismay, and Jack’s heart sank as he realized the mistake he had made. She turned away, but not before he saw the nervous reproach in her eyes. He felt his face colour in vexation as he, too, returned his gaze to the road.

He cursed himself silently. How could he have been so stupid! The remark itself had not been so offensive. It was certainly no more—probably less—flirtatious than anything he might have said to a lady friend in London in similar circumstances. But this lady clearly thought she had been insulted by a servant of the Birmingham mail! And why shouldn’t she, he reflected, for who else should be driving this coach?

He clenched his jaw and unconsciously tightened his grip upon the reins. For the first time these three months, Jack realized that his father had indeed imposed a punishment when he had sent him to work for the mail. His mind wandered, as he pondered whether he ought to apologize to the young lady or just allow the matter to drop. He considered explaining his own circumstances to her by way of explanation for his forwardness, but it suddenly occurred to him that she might very well not believe him. He tightened his hands even more on the reins.

Jack was so preoccupied by his embarrassment that he did not notice when the horses began to object to his unaccustomed treatment. They tossed their heads, trying to loosen the hold upon them. Alarmed by his tension, they began to pick up their pace.

Suddenly, one of the leaders tripped, pulling sharply upon the left rein, which must have been worn in one spot, for it broke in two with a snap. Instantly, the unguided and frightened horse began to run and the carriage was propelled with a powerful jerk. The other leader became alarmed. Bound to the frightened horse by its coupling reins, it attempted to follow, but it was held in check by the pressure of Jack’s hold on the reins.

The unbalanced situation caused the coach to sway back and forth as the loose lead horse kept trying to kick his traces. Jack pulled on the reins that were still intact, fighting to regain control of the terrified animals. But his companion, with no foothold to support her, was tossed dangerously to left and right. Suddenly, her grip broke and she was thrown abruptly against Jack’s side.

He quickly dropped the reins from one hand and caught her about the waist before she could be flung from the box, but with his arm about her he could not manage to regain his grip. The reins for the right pair of horses flapped beyond his reach. There was nothing he could do but pull with his left hand with all his might as the horses careened wildly down the road. The brake stood at his side, but without a free hand Jack was helpless to avail himself of it. The muscles in his left arm strained against the weight of the horses. He called to them to “Whoa!” while the passengers’ screams filled his ears.

Finally, just as he was certain that he could not hold on much longer, the horses tired and began to slow. He called to them reassuringly and his soothing tone began to take effect. Even though the coach still swayed with the uneven slowing of the loose horse versus the others, he eventually managed to bring it to a halt near a grove of oaks.

Slowly releasing his bruised and bleeding fingers from the leather straps, he sighed and, closing his eyes, leaned against the hard rail of the seat. It was only then that he became aware that he was still grasping his tiny passenger firmly by the waist. He had been holding her so tightly, and she was so small, that she was practically sitting on his lap. She nearly sat astride his right leg, her feet dangling about his ankles, until abruptly, as if just now aware her awkward position, she pushed at his arm and struggled to resume her place.

Giving her a hand to help her back onto her seat, Jack tried to swallow his chagrin. A different, more disturbing emotion made his heart beat strangely when she turned embarrassed eyes on him in a fleeting glance.

“I hope you weren’t injured in any way, miss,” Jack said humbly, his voice husky with fatigue. He meant to avert his gaze to spare her further disquiet, but for some inexplicable reason found it impossible to take his eyes off her. The young lady, however, had recovered more quickly than he, for even though her discomfiture was still perceptible, she managed to incline her head in a queenly, condescending manner.

“Thank you. I was not. But I commend you,” she added, turning briskly away to resume a stiff posture, “for your rapid handling of the situation.”

Jack expressed his thanks and leaned back against the seat again, allowing himself one brief moment of peace before descending to deal with his duties. His left arm ached terribly, and he sighed as he contemplated the hours of repair that were surely before him. It would be a severe penance, surely, for the few seconds’ pleasure of holding his companion about the waist. The passengers on the roof were moaning and a few of the women inside were weeping. He could not ignore them any longer. Slowly and painfully, he descended from the box.

Davies and the young scholar, who had miraculously managed to hold on during the careening of the coach, had already jumped down and were doing their best to calm the ladies. Jack gave them both a grateful look before he went to secure the horses. He already knew what the problem was, and saw nothing for it but to lead the horses into the next village and wait for new harness to be made. The passengers, he knew, would not be happy to have to wait, and it was possible that word of his carelessness might get back to the proprietors. In that case, his pay would be severely docked. The threat of transportation rose frighteningly in his mind.

The horses were surprisingly calm after their rash performance. Jack knew that they were merely exhausted, too much so to fly off the handle again.  He secured both leaders to a tree and returned to face the passengers. It would be up to Davies to ride one of the leaders to the next stop to advance the mail. The rest of the horses would have to be walked to cool them off,

Although Davies’s calmness had done much to restore the goodwill of those inside the coach, when Jack stepped up he was greeted by a chorus of complaints.

“I knew no good would come of letting that girl up on the box!” asserted the red-faced woman amidst cries of agreement.

Acutely aware that his inattention had been for that very reason, Jack was hard-pressed to answer her courteously, but he spoke with admirable restraint. “You are mistaken, madam. A rein on one of the leaders simply broke. I cannot imagine how a passenger on the box could be considered responsible for that. It is one of those things that happens from time to time. I am sorry the horses bolted and caused you all such a fright, but I assure you the matter will be corrected as soon as possible.”

His politeness had its usual effect, for even though a murmur greeted his words, it was largely in approval of the justness of his remarks. Taking this as a sign that he might now get on with the unpleasant task of walking the horses to the next village, Jack went back to unharness them.

Davies climbed back up on his seat to unlock the box that held the mail. But, as Jack approached the front of the coach with the intention of offering to help his mysterious passenger down, she hailed him.

“Pardon me,” she said eagerly, and without a trace of her earlier embarrassment, “but I think I might be of assistance.”

Jack smiled openly at the notion that such a slight girl could help him with his wearisome task. He offered his hand to help her alight. “Could you, miss?” he indulgently asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m almost certain,” she said, and began to fumble in her reticule.

 Jack watched her with undisguised delight, thinking it was almost worth having the accident to see what she would produce. In a moment, she had pulled a strange object from her bag and was holding it up triumphantly for his inspection.

“There! You see?”

Jack reached out and took the object from her. It was a contraption of sorts, made of a short strap of leather with a buckle on each end. As he examined it, Jack began to feel that perhaps it could be of use to him. He looked up at his passenger, his curiosity fully aroused.

“What is it, if you please? How does it work?”

The lady took back the contraption and walked over to the horses, with Jack half a step behind.

“I will show you,” she said. “You see, you must simply cut a hole in each end of the broken strap and then thread each of them through a buckle—like this.” She showed him how the two ends fit into the buckles, and Jack could see that the contraption would indeed provide a temporary solution to his problem.

“I don’t suppose you should go very far without having the harness repaired,” she concluded, “for it wasn’t meant to do more than help one on to the next stop. But it ought to hold as far as that.”

“That far and then some,” Jack agreed. “What a clever device! How did you come by it?”

“My grandfather made it,” she said proudly “He copied it from a friend’s invention. And he has always insisted that I carry it with me whenever I travel.”

“It’s a stroke of genius!” Jack declared. “I will set to work on those holes right away.” He handed the device back to her, and, taking his knife, began to cut small holes through the broken pieces of harness. The young lady stood waiting patiently, and even seemed pleased to be assisting in such a task.