Free Lord Clayborne's Fancy by Laura Matthews Page B

your journey from Farthington Hall,” Rebecca remarked. “I feel certain it will be unnecessary for us to go to Westminster Abbey. We could not possibly learn more about the Cloisters or the Chapel of the Pyx, to say nothing of the Confessor’s Chapel. How do you suppose she remembers all those dates?”
    “No doubt she has been studying ever since Clayborne suggested the trip,” Meg replied. “I saw her sneaking out of the library,” she added, laughing, “and I do not doubt that she has it all written on her cuffs, and that is why she keeps shifting about so!”
    Then she giggled and said, “No, I have it. When she was a very young girl she was kidnapped by a band of bluestockings and forced to reside in a gloomy haunted castle until she could recite the whole of English history without a mistake.”
    “And a knight in armor restored her to her rightful position as a governess when he fell under the spell of her snoring,” Rebecca contributed.
    “For her stepmother, you must know, was very wicked and would not tolerate having Turnip within her sight, reminding her, you see, of Sunday dinner.”
    The sister’ giggles left Miss Turnpeck undisturbed, and just when they had begun to further embellish their tale, they were surprised to feel the carriage coming to a halt. Rebecca looked out the window to find they were on the open road, with no sign of a cottage, let alone a village. Much to her amazement, there was no sign of Clayborne, either.
    “Why are we stopping here, Frantley?” she called to the coachman.
    “My lord desired that the carriage await his return, my lady,” he responded.
    Rebecca cast her eves heavenward in mock despair. “So much for our escort.”
    Puzzled, Meg frowned out at the deserted countryside. “We seem to be nowhere near any village, Becka. What do you suppose has happened?”
    “I have not the faintest idea,” Rebecca answered, “and his lordship does not seem to have found it necessary to explain his departure to us. Let’s descend and stretch our legs. Turnip will doubtless continue her nap,” she laughed, glancing at the dozing governess cradled happily in a corner, from which soft snores still emanated.
    When the coachman had let the steps down and the sisters had tumbled into the warm sunshine, Rebecca once again questioned him. “In which direction did Lord Clayborne ride, Frantley?”
    “His lordship took the path yonder,” he said indicating a narrow, overgrown trail to the right rear of the coach.
    “Well, Meg, shall we explore it?” Rebecca asked with a twinkle, ignoring the coachman’ s reproving look.
    Meg was easily led by her elder sister and her answering smile was suppressed. She replied demurely, “I cannot think Turnip would like it. I am sure she would exhort us on the dangers of a strange countryside and unknown country people, to say nothing of the wild animals which must obviously lurk in that wood yonder. Certainly we shall go.”
    “Now, miss,” Rebecca informed her sister sternly as they set off, “you must remember that you are accompanied by a married woman and that every propriety must be observed, else you shall be left to your governess in future.”
    Blithely ignoring this homily, her sister asked, “Do you suppose Jason has some acquaintance in the neighborhood? I am sure I don’t even know where we are.”
    “Nor I. But look, there are some people hurrying there, beyond the wood. I think,” she said happily, “that we are about to have an adventure. How Mary would envy us.”
    “I have written Mary that we are to be in London,” Meg replied, still rankling from Mary’s roasting her about Will Travers. “I am sure she would rather be in London than Bath, but she was so sure that her holiday would be more entertaining than mine,” she sniffed.
    “Frankly, I can only imagine Mary getting into trouble in either place,” Rebecca admitted, “for she is wild enough in the country.”
    “Yes, but do you know that Mama has the