The Reluctant Earl (11 page)

Simon frowned and Claire stared in surprise.  The passenger grinned and, after a moment, she smiled back and said, “I hope so too.”

Simon took her arm as they went into the inn, which looked like every other inn they had seen on their journey.  There was a bar and kitchen to the right of the door, and a table where the landlord stood greeting the new customers as they entered.  Simon stopped at the table and asked for a room for himself and his sister.

The landlord, a tall skinny man with a long hooked nose and scraggly hair, looked them over with a sapient eye.  Ignoring Simon’s comment about his ‘sister,’ he asked, “Headed for Gretna Green, are you?”

Simon’s mouth set, then he sighed and gave up.  “Yes, we wish to go to Gretna Green.  But we’ve just spent forty hours on the mail coach and we need to rest first.  Do you have a room available?”

“That we do,” the landlord assured him.  “How were you planning to get to Gretna tomorrow?  It’s a good sixteen miles from Carlisle.”

“I’m planning to hire a horse and carriage,” Simon replied.

The landlord said, “There are always drivers with gigs here at the inn on the look out for young folk wanting to go to Gretna.  I can have a driver here early tomorrow morning if you want.”

Simon felt a wave of relief wash over him.  One problem solved.  “Thank you,” he said.

The landlord said curiously, “So why’re a pair of nobs like you running away from your families?”

Simon exchanged a quick look with Claire, then said easily, “Oh, we’re just like all the other couples who come here.  We wish to be married.”

The landlord shook his head.  “Happen I’ll see at least one of your fathers by late tomorrow.  Howling with rage he’ll be, if what I’ve seen in the past is anything to go by.”

Simon thought unhappily of Liam’s anger and disappointment.  Then Claire took his hand as she said defiantly, “’What God has joined together let no man put asunder.’  That’s what the bible says.  And the law says it too.  Our fathers can rage all they want, but they can’t undo a legal marriage.”

“Oh, the marriages Mr. Elliot performs at Gretna are legal enough.”  The landlord looked Claire up and down.  “You’d best consummate the marriage quickly, though, otherwise it can be annulled.”

Infuriated by that look, Simon said in a voice as cold as arctic ice, “About that room?”

The landlord took a step backwards and when he spoke again his voice was respectful, “If you will come with me, I’ll get you the key.  And I’ll relieve you of some of your money as well.”

By the time Simon opened the door to their room, the two of them were staggering with exhaustion.  He dropped the cases and turned to Claire, who had started to undo her dress.  “I am going to crawl into that bed and sleep,” she announced.

He was so exhausted he scarcely noticed her dishabille.  He glanced around the room and said,  “I’ll take the chair.”

She flashed him a look.  “Don’t be an idiot.  Sleep in the bed with me.  We’re neither of us in a condition to do anything else tonight.”

Simon gave her a crooked smile and admitted, “I could sleep standing up like a horse, but that bed does look good.”

Claire stepped out of her dress and draped it over the plain wood chair standing against the wall.  Clad in just her petticoat, she climbed into bed and pulled up the blanket.  “Good night,” she said to Simon, and closed her eyes.  She was asleep before he crawled in beside her.

#   #   #

Claire was the first to awaken.  They had left the window open and the sun was beaming a ray of light directly onto Simon’s sleeping face.  She looked at him and felt her heart turn over.  Pale silver stubble showed on his cheeks, and his hair was ruffled and hanging over his forehead.  A dusting of silvery hair covered his bare chest.  He was so tired that even the sun on his face hadn’t awakened him. 

Claire slid carefully out of bed and looked at the dress she had draped over the chair last night.  She had worn that dress for almost two solid days and it looked it.  She took a fresh sprig muslin frock from her case and carelessly stuffed the old one in.  By the time she turned around to face the bed, Simon was awake and blinking in the sunlight.

“What time is it?”  He rubbed his head, further mussing his hair.  Claire hoped that, if they had a daughter, she would have Simon’s hair.

“I think about seven,” she said.

He yawned hugely.  “I’ll dress and we can get some breakfast.”

Poor Simon.  Suddenly Claire felt very motherly.  “Did you get any sleep at all on that trip?”

“A little,” he said.

Claire didn’t believe him. 

His blue eyes gazed seriously into her brown ones.  “Claire, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my entire life.”

She gave him a tender smile.  “Get dressed, and we’ll go downstairs for breakfast.”

#   #   #

They were stuffing themselves with eggs and sausage when a sturdy-looking young man with sandy hair and freckles approached.  “I be Joe Mason and I heard you’re lookin’ to get to Gretna Green.”

Simon put down his fork.  “That’s right. Can you take us?”

“Yep.  That’s why I’m here.  My uncle marries people in Gretna.  Do you be wantin’ his services?”

“Yes,” Simon said.  “We want to be married as quickly as possible.”

“Well, my uncle can do the job for you.”

Claire continued to eat while Simon and Joe discussed money.  Joe left to get his chaise and horses, and Claire said to Simon, “Why did you ask him to wait and return us here?  I thought there were rooms in Gretna Green.”

He was a little embarrassed as he answered, “I’ve been thinking … I don’t want to spend my wedding night with you in a bed where who knows how many other people have spent theirs.  I’d rather stay here at the inn.  It’s more … respectable.”

“Oh,” she said, deeply touched by his sentiment.

He sighed.  “Wouldn’t it be perfect if we could take a wedding trip?  We could drive all around Scotland, just the two of us.”

“It would cost too much money,” Claire said regretfully. “And my parents would be too worried.”

“True.”  He gave her a rueful look and admitted, “I’ve already spent almost half the allowance money Uncle Richard gave me.”

Claire reached her hand across the table and he took it into his and held it tightly.  She said fiercely, “Let’s concentrate on getting married.  Once we do that, we’ll be bound together by a tie no one can break.  Ever.”

He raised her hand to his lips, opened it, kissed her palm and folded her fingers over the kiss.  He said very softly, “I love you with every part of my being.”

Something deep inside her trembled at the kiss, at the tone of his voice.  “And I love you the same way,” she whispered.

As they looked at each other, the noise and bustle of the inn faded into silence.  For a brief, out of time moment, there was only the two of them, holding hands, looking deeply into each other’s eyes and seeing love.

“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Claire said softly.  “We’re just making it legal.”

He nodded, blinked, and said, “I had better reserve a room for us before we leave.”

She took her hand back.  “Yes.”  She smiled at him as the excitement bubbled up inside her.  “I am so happy, Simon!”

He was looking serious.  “I am too.  And I will be even happier once we have that paper in our hands.”  He regarded her empty plate.  “Have you had enough to eat?”

“Yes.”

“Then we had better be going.”

They stood and Simon took her arm as they went to reserve a room for the coming night.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Joe Mason and his team of horses moved briskly along the main road.  It was a fine, clear day, with only a few high white clouds interrupting the deep blue of the sky.  Claire sat on the single seat between Joe and Simon, her chest so tight with a mixture of excitement and fear she thought she might explode.  She had to struggle not to keep glancing behind them, terrified she’d see one of their fathers racing after them.  If the earl had come after them he would have taken his coach, and he wouldn’t have had to stop to deliver the mail.  Or her da may have hired a coach. 

She didn’t say anything to Simon about her fear.  He seemed quite certain that they had enough of a head start, and she was confident he was right.  But still…and she glanced over her shoulder one more time.

After they had been on the road for several hours, they crossed a wooden bridge spanning a small river.  As the horses came off the bridge onto solid land, Joe turned to his passengers with a grin.  “Now ye’re in Scotland.”

Claire let out a long breath.  “How much longer to Gretna Green?”

“About three-quarter mile.”

And indeed it wasn’t long until the horses turned into a narrow road, which led them into a small village.  At first sight Gretna Green was not very prepossessing.   In fact, it looked positively poverty stricken.  Claire stared at the scattering of small clay houses in surprise; she had expected a village similar to the one at home.  Before she could speak, however, Joe pointed his finger at a tiny church ahead on their left.  “That‘s the kirk,” he said.  “The house next to it belongs to Mr. Elliot.  He’s the one who’ll marry you.”

“Will we be married in the church?” Claire asked.

“Naw, Mr. Elliot does the marriages at the inn.”

Joe proceeded to steer the horses to the front of a stalwart looking brick building a quarter of a mile past the kirk and said, “If you and the lady go on inside, sir, I’ll fetch Mr. Elliot for ye.”

Simon jumped down from the high seat, lifted his hands, put them around Claire’s waist, and swung her to the ground.  When her feet touched the hard dirt road, Claire looked up the road again.  Her heart was racing and she slipped her hand into Simon’s as they walked up the few steps that led into the inn.  The warmth of his fingers closing around hers felt reassuringly familiar.

The room inside was decorated like a parlor, with pictures on the walls and four chairs grouped in front of the empty fireplace.  There was a taproom, but it was tucked into a corner, away from the main room.  Even so, Claire could see several men sitting at a table. 

“Would you like to sit down while we wait?” Simon asked her.

Claire looked at the dark, uninviting chairs and said, “No.” 

Simon nodded and the two of them stood in front of the empty grate, holding tightly onto each other’s hand.  Claire’s heart was beating so loudly she could actually hear it.   She shut her eyes and prayed: 
Please, God, please, don’t let anything stop us.  We’ve come so far.  We love each other so much…please…

The inn door opened and a man came in, followed by Joe.  As they approached, Claire looked warily at the so-called priest who was to marry them.  She hadn’t known what to expect, and, to her relief, he appeared to be perfectly ordinary in his black frock coat and fawn colored trousers.  When he came up to them she saw a pleasant looking man with a round face and trimmed brown beard.  He exuded a sense of agreeableness she found reassuring.

“Well, well,” Mr. Elliot said, after they had introduced themselves.  “I imagine you youngsters are in a hurry and there’s no reason to keep you waiting.  Joe, you can be one of the witnesses, and if you’ll fetch George from the taproom, he can be the other one.”  As Joe moved off, Mr. Elliot turned to Simon.  “While Joe is fetching the second witness, young man, you and I can discuss my fee.”

“Of course,” Simon said, as naturally as if he did this sort of thing all the time.  “If you’ll just tell me what you charge?”

“It depends.”  The priest cast a calculating look over them both, and Claire realized he was estimating how much he might be able to get.

“We’re not rich, Mr. Elliot,” she said resolutely.  “We spent half of our money getting here, and we have to keep enough to get home.”

Mr. Elliot lifted an eyebrow.  “Mmmm.  May I ask by what means you traveled?”

“We were passengers on the Royal Mail,” Simon answered.  “It was the quickest transport I could find.  We got on in Cambridge and off in Carlisle, so the tickets were expensive.”

“I see.  So you’re throwing yourselves upon my mercy, eh?”

The good humor never faded from the priest’s face, which gave Claire some hope he would be reasonable.  

Simon sighed.  “I suppose we are, sir.  I think I can spare twenty pounds.  Will that do?”

Twenty pounds?
 
Claire gave Simon an alarmed look.   If Richard Jarvis didn’t come that wouldn’t leave them enough money to buy tickets on the Mail home.

Elliot saw the look.   “All right, lad, I’ll take your twenty pounds.  Now follow me and I’ll show you the room we use for weddings.”

The priest took them to a door at the far end of the room, opened it and gestured them in. 

The ‘wedding room’ was small and stark.  The only furniture it contained was a single square wood table set in front of a narrow fireplace, and a long trestle table placed under a small window.  The square table held a thick open book, which Claire assumed to be a bible.  Half of the trestle table was covered with individual stacks of paper, while the other half was bare save for a pen and inkstand.

“We might as well get the first part of the marriage business done while we wait for the witnesses,” Mr. Elliot said, leading them toward the trestle table.  He plucked a form from one of the piles, appropriated the only chair for himself, and sat at the table while they stood beside him.  He picked up the pen and held it poised over the paper in front of him.

“Legal name, please, and place of abode,” he said. 

“Simon Charles Matthew Joseph Radley,” Simon said.  “Welbourne Abbey, Suffolk, England.”

The priest raised his eyebrows at the address, but said nothing, filling out a line on the form in front of him. 

“Claire Marie O’Rourke,” Claire said next, “Hillside Cottage, Welbourne, Suffolk, England.”

Elliot entered this information.  “Your ages, please?”

“Eighteen,” Simon said in a composed voice.

“Seventeen,” Claire said.