[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
sat down, his legs stretched out with his feet against
the dashboard.
"You are sitting quite wrong. Your feet should be a
little farther back than your knees. What the devil are
you doing with the whip? Clutch it like that and you'll
have to drop it when you need to use your right hand
on the reins."
His left arm was positioned wrong, his wrist bent at
the wrong angle. How he managed to drive out from
the yard onto the highway he had no idea. He thanked
God for a miracle.
Unfortunately the world seemed to have woken up
from its noonday rest. Carts and wagons, private
carriages, riders and pedestrians thronged the road.
Well, Isaac had to admit that it wasn't exactly
crowded, but there was a great deal too much traffic
for his liking. He was glad that his mentor didn't
appear to trust him to drive at a trot.
The reprieve was temporary. After a quarter of a
mile, Roworth said, "They are working together as a
team now. You can pick up the pace, gradually."
Somewhat to Isaac's surprise, the horses obeyed his
directions--even the insolent sorrel. Soon they were
rolling along the road at a fine pace. He was beginning
to feel almost competent when they rounded a bend
and found themselves stuck behind a lumbering
diligence.
The leaders and the near-side wheeler automatically
slowed, but the sorrel decided to overtake. Isaac hadn't
the least notion what to do.
"Good gad, do you want them stepping over the
traces?" Roworth leaned across and pulled on one of
the reins, looking smugly superior as the sorrel fell
back into line. "We must overtake," he added
impatiently. "We shall never reach Spain if we get
stuck behind every slow-moving vehicle. I'd best take
over."
"No, I can do it," said Isaac with grim determination.
"We'll never reach Spain if you have to drive all the
way. Just tell me what to do."
30
"For a start, wait until that carriage coming the
other way is past."
His condescension was infuriating. Keeping a tight
rein on his own temper, Isaac listened carefully to the
instructions. When the road was clear, Roworth
repeated each step at the appropriate moment. A
dozen times during the manoeuvre Isaac wanted to
close his eyes and pray but he resisted the temptation
and drove on.
As the leaders drew up neck-and-neck with the
diligence's team, he saw from the corner of his eye its
driver saluting with his whip. He didn't dare respond.
And then the diligence was falling behind, the sorrel's
rump was level with the others' noses, they were past.
"Don't pull in too sharply," snapped Roworth.
Confused, Isaac overcorrected. The offside wheel
came perilously close to the ditch before the berline
was once more rolling smoothly down the highway.
Close behind him something clicked. He glanced
round to see that a small panel in the front of the body
had opened.
"Watch the road!" came Roworth's anguished cry.
As Isaac quickly turned his attention back to the
road, he heard Miriam's dry voice, "Can we let go the
straps and breathe again?"
"Until we come to the next obstacle," Roworth said
forebodingly, but a few minutes later, when they
reached a straight stretch, he had enough confidence
to start munching on bread and cheese.
Tooling the coach along, Isaac was on the whole
quite pleased with himself. At least his driving was
better than his lordship's French.
For practice, he drove all but one stage until at dusk
they decided to stop for the night in the next village.
By the time he turned into the yard of a sizeable inn
by the name of Le Grand Cerf, he was exhausted, his
arms heavy as lead and his eyes burning from
constant concentration. He blinked round in dismay at
a half-dozen carriages already standing in the yard. He
simply couldn't go any farther.
Miriam took one look at him as he stumbled down
from the box and declared, "I shall make arrangements
for our accommodation. Do you wait here while I make
sure that there are chambers available."
She and her abigail went into the inn. Isaac
slumped down onto the berline's step while Roworth
31
waved away the ostlers and paced up and down for a
minute or two. Then he came to lean against the
carriage, gazing into the distance with his hands in his
pockets.
After a moment, he said abruptly, "Even the best of
professional stagecoach drivers rarely drive more than
three or four stages at a time. It's hard work." As if
ashamed of this admission, he strolled away again
before Isaac could react.
Miriam came out of the Grand Cerf and told the
ostlers to unhitch the horses. An inn servant began to
unload luggage from the berline. Felix returned.
"I have reserved two chambers," Miriam said in a
lowered voice, switching to English. "The private
parlours are all taken, though. They are busy with
travellers going to Paris to pay their respects on the
birth of the emperor's heir. We'll have to dine in the
public salle-à-manger, and Felix will just have to hold
his tongue all evening."
"I've no desire for conversation," his lordship
grunted. "Nor have I any desire to share a chamber.
Ask for a third."
She regarded him with a faint, mocking smile. "I fear
all are occupied or reserved. Jewishness is not
contagious, you know."
Roworth was disconcerted. Isaac grinned. Changed
or no, Miss Miriam Jacobson was still outspoken to a
fault.
"I have ordered dinner an hour from now," she
continued, "and hot water to be taken up to our
chambers at once. I trust you have no objection, Lord
Felix?"
"Only to that mode of address, Miss Jacobson. I am
the eldest son of an earl and my correct style is Lord
Roworth."
"I beg your pardon, my lord," Miriam said ironically.
"Herr Rothschild must have introduced you
incorrectly."
His lips curled in scorn. "A Jewish moneychanger
from Germany cannot be expected to understand
English titles."
"Stop this nonsense," Isaac commanded. "While we
are travelling among enemies, we are Miriam, Felix
and Isaac. And Isaac, for one, will be glad of a meal [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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sat down, his legs stretched out with his feet against
the dashboard.
"You are sitting quite wrong. Your feet should be a
little farther back than your knees. What the devil are
you doing with the whip? Clutch it like that and you'll
have to drop it when you need to use your right hand
on the reins."
His left arm was positioned wrong, his wrist bent at
the wrong angle. How he managed to drive out from
the yard onto the highway he had no idea. He thanked
God for a miracle.
Unfortunately the world seemed to have woken up
from its noonday rest. Carts and wagons, private
carriages, riders and pedestrians thronged the road.
Well, Isaac had to admit that it wasn't exactly
crowded, but there was a great deal too much traffic
for his liking. He was glad that his mentor didn't
appear to trust him to drive at a trot.
The reprieve was temporary. After a quarter of a
mile, Roworth said, "They are working together as a
team now. You can pick up the pace, gradually."
Somewhat to Isaac's surprise, the horses obeyed his
directions--even the insolent sorrel. Soon they were
rolling along the road at a fine pace. He was beginning
to feel almost competent when they rounded a bend
and found themselves stuck behind a lumbering
diligence.
The leaders and the near-side wheeler automatically
slowed, but the sorrel decided to overtake. Isaac hadn't
the least notion what to do.
"Good gad, do you want them stepping over the
traces?" Roworth leaned across and pulled on one of
the reins, looking smugly superior as the sorrel fell
back into line. "We must overtake," he added
impatiently. "We shall never reach Spain if we get
stuck behind every slow-moving vehicle. I'd best take
over."
"No, I can do it," said Isaac with grim determination.
"We'll never reach Spain if you have to drive all the
way. Just tell me what to do."
30
"For a start, wait until that carriage coming the
other way is past."
His condescension was infuriating. Keeping a tight
rein on his own temper, Isaac listened carefully to the
instructions. When the road was clear, Roworth
repeated each step at the appropriate moment. A
dozen times during the manoeuvre Isaac wanted to
close his eyes and pray but he resisted the temptation
and drove on.
As the leaders drew up neck-and-neck with the
diligence's team, he saw from the corner of his eye its
driver saluting with his whip. He didn't dare respond.
And then the diligence was falling behind, the sorrel's
rump was level with the others' noses, they were past.
"Don't pull in too sharply," snapped Roworth.
Confused, Isaac overcorrected. The offside wheel
came perilously close to the ditch before the berline
was once more rolling smoothly down the highway.
Close behind him something clicked. He glanced
round to see that a small panel in the front of the body
had opened.
"Watch the road!" came Roworth's anguished cry.
As Isaac quickly turned his attention back to the
road, he heard Miriam's dry voice, "Can we let go the
straps and breathe again?"
"Until we come to the next obstacle," Roworth said
forebodingly, but a few minutes later, when they
reached a straight stretch, he had enough confidence
to start munching on bread and cheese.
Tooling the coach along, Isaac was on the whole
quite pleased with himself. At least his driving was
better than his lordship's French.
For practice, he drove all but one stage until at dusk
they decided to stop for the night in the next village.
By the time he turned into the yard of a sizeable inn
by the name of Le Grand Cerf, he was exhausted, his
arms heavy as lead and his eyes burning from
constant concentration. He blinked round in dismay at
a half-dozen carriages already standing in the yard. He
simply couldn't go any farther.
Miriam took one look at him as he stumbled down
from the box and declared, "I shall make arrangements
for our accommodation. Do you wait here while I make
sure that there are chambers available."
She and her abigail went into the inn. Isaac
slumped down onto the berline's step while Roworth
31
waved away the ostlers and paced up and down for a
minute or two. Then he came to lean against the
carriage, gazing into the distance with his hands in his
pockets.
After a moment, he said abruptly, "Even the best of
professional stagecoach drivers rarely drive more than
three or four stages at a time. It's hard work." As if
ashamed of this admission, he strolled away again
before Isaac could react.
Miriam came out of the Grand Cerf and told the
ostlers to unhitch the horses. An inn servant began to
unload luggage from the berline. Felix returned.
"I have reserved two chambers," Miriam said in a
lowered voice, switching to English. "The private
parlours are all taken, though. They are busy with
travellers going to Paris to pay their respects on the
birth of the emperor's heir. We'll have to dine in the
public salle-à-manger, and Felix will just have to hold
his tongue all evening."
"I've no desire for conversation," his lordship
grunted. "Nor have I any desire to share a chamber.
Ask for a third."
She regarded him with a faint, mocking smile. "I fear
all are occupied or reserved. Jewishness is not
contagious, you know."
Roworth was disconcerted. Isaac grinned. Changed
or no, Miss Miriam Jacobson was still outspoken to a
fault.
"I have ordered dinner an hour from now," she
continued, "and hot water to be taken up to our
chambers at once. I trust you have no objection, Lord
Felix?"
"Only to that mode of address, Miss Jacobson. I am
the eldest son of an earl and my correct style is Lord
Roworth."
"I beg your pardon, my lord," Miriam said ironically.
"Herr Rothschild must have introduced you
incorrectly."
His lips curled in scorn. "A Jewish moneychanger
from Germany cannot be expected to understand
English titles."
"Stop this nonsense," Isaac commanded. "While we
are travelling among enemies, we are Miriam, Felix
and Isaac. And Isaac, for one, will be glad of a meal [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]