Evening found the weary travelers arrived at Leicester. Susan hobbled off the coach half in play-acting and half in earnest. Dean remarked on it.
“Poor Master Gardiner. Have you some kind of infirmity?”
“It is the necessity of sitting cramped for long hours in a carriage.”
They took a room at the inn where they wearily washed up before going to the tavern for supper. If she had not felt so thoroughly disheartened, she would have relished the opportunity of gaining entry into a territory which had hitherto been forbidden her. She looked around at the assorted characters in the darkened room. In the corner, four gentlemen stood in slouched positions holding their pints of ale as they were able, speaking in a rowdy and slurred fashion that revealed their inebriation. Susan had often seen her father in such a condition and looked at them with evident disapprobation.
“It would be best not to stare at them or to draw attention to yourself. Drunken men are often more aggressive than other men and may be eager to pick a fight with you.”
“With me!” Susan exclaimed.
“Aye, Master Gardiner. With you.”
Then she remembered that she appeared as a boy now.
They had begun to eat their supper when they were disturbed by a commotion from the corner where the four men stood. The men had been joined by a soldier who was holding up a shilling.
“Who will take the king’s shilling?” he cried.
“Go on with ye,” one of the four scoffed. “We’re busy drinking, don’t ye see?”
“It’s all drinking,” the soldier continued. “All the time drinking in the king’s army. Except for the times we’re eating, of course. And occasionally making love. There’s time for that, too. What d’ye say, boys, are ye up for it?”
“I don’t suppose there’s any time for fighting then?” the scoffer continued.
“Why, yes, some. But a battle’s the finest thing in the world when one’s side wins, and the English side—our side, sir—always wins. Don’t you worry none.”
“What is going on?” Susan asked Dean.
“He’s a recruiting sergeant,” he replied. “Just keep your head down and say nothing.”
Susan was aghast and spoke out in spite of Dean’s warning. “Supposing you should be killed in battle, sir. What good is the king’s shilling worth to you then?”
The sergeant strolled over to their table. “Well, supposing you should be,” he said, confidently. “What then? Your country loves you, and His Majesty King George the Third loves you. Everybody’s grateful to you, sir, and your name’s wrote down full length in a book in the War Office, so you will never be forgot. Damme, gentlemen, we must all die some time or other, eh!”
He punched Susan in the shoulder so that she nearly collapsed. Evidently disappointed by her weakness, he turned his regard on Dean, and Susan immediately regretted having called his attention to them.
“What about you, sir?” he addressed Dean. “Will you take the king’s shilling to fight the rebels across the sea?”
“I willna, I thank ye, sir.”
“Why not? Are you a coward?”
”I have two brothers in America. I dinna wish one day to find myself looking down the barrel of a gun into my brother’s face.”
The recruiting sergeant seemed taken aback by the comment and, turning on his heel, retreated to the corner with the four drunks.
“I did not know that of you,” Susan said.
“There is a great deal ye dinna ken. For instance, and one of my brothers is named Andrew.” Dean smiled.
Susan returned his smile. “So, is that the way that ordinary soldiers are recruited into the king’s army?” she asked.
“’Tis,” Dean replied, between mouthfuls.
“How very strange! Among the gentry, the men must buy their way into the army, but the common soldiers are given money to join up.”
“Aye, they are bribed, ‘tis true. But ‘tis much worse for the common sailors. During times of war, they are often pressed into service.”
“What does that mean, ‘pressed’?”
“Why, the Impressment Service, or sometimes the ships’ captains themselves, set up gangs to go around the streets of port towns and forcibly take merchant seamen onto the Navy ships. They hae no choice in the matter.”
“Really? How barbaric! And they are not even given the king’s shilling?”
“They may be if they sign up willingly once they hae been impressed.”
Susan thought there was no end to the indignities the lower classes suffered.
They finished the rest of their meal without further incident, and then retired to their mutual apartment. Dean indicated that Susan was to have the bedroom and he would sleep as he had the night before on the floor, but she insisted that he share the bed with her. “It is certainly large enough to fit both of us, and you did not have a good sleep last night.”
He was too weary to argue with her.
“I have only one problem, sir. I cannot sleep in these clothes: they are too dusty from the road, and they are even beginning to smell, I believe.”
“Remove them, and I will air them. You should wash your under garments. That will remove the smell. Are you able to do that, madam?”
“I believe that I can, but what shall I wear, sir? I cannot dress myself in wet clothes.”
“I shall lend you my banyan.”
Susan tried to undress discreetly and conceal her many charms as she prepared for sleep. Once she slipped on Dean’s night robe, however, she was completely covered and concealed. She thought she would not have attracted the notice of even the most practiced scoundrel. When she was comfortably installed in her bed and Dean had slipped discreetly in beside her in his shirt, she expressed the concern that had bothered her all day.
“Mr. Dean,” she addressed him.
“It is curious to be addressed so formally under the circumstances,” he said.
“Do you want me to call you by your Christian name?” she asked blushing.
“No,” he replied. “More formality rather than less is called for, I think,” he replied.
“As you wish, but I hope it will not continue thus once we are married.”
He laughed. “Nae,” he said. “It willna.”
She felt curiously warm to hear him slip into Scottish burr.
“What were you going to say, Miss Kirke?”
“I was afraid when we embarked on this trip that a public coach would be too slow. I had thought that my father would have sent a fast horse and rider that would have overtaken us by now.”
“That is certainly true, and if we had taken the road to Gretna Green, I’m sure your father would have caught us by now.”
“We are not en route to Gretna Green then, sir?”
“Nae, we are not.”
“But I thought that is where people went to be married, sir.”
“Aye, that is where the English go to be married, simply because it is the closest place across the border. But I am a Scot, and I do not feel myself constrained to one place in the country to be married. In fact, marriage is so sacred to me that I wish to tie the bonds in my own kirk.”
She startled at the word.
“That is, my home church. ‘Kirk’ is ‘church’ in Scotland.”
“Is it so?” she said, wondering at the irony of it.
“Aye, it is. I wish for all my family to be there when we tie the knot.”
“So, where are we going?”
“To Dundee.”
“And will that be farther than Gretna Green?”
“Considerably farther.”
“Do you think I could sit outside with you? It is tiresome making conversation with strangers.”
“Dinna speak then. If you speak you may gie something away.”
Susan was not satisfied with the answer. She had dreaded another two days like the one she had just endured. Her imagination failed her in the contemplation of many more, but the worry quickly faded when her exh
austion overcame her and she slept soundly.
Chapter 19
It is indeed true that a good sleep and a new day often dispel the fears that we have taken to bed with us, and so it was with Susan. As she took her place in the carriage, which was now a familiar setting to her, she felt a new confidence in her role as a male. She had already passed a day traveling as a boy without being detected. She felt more comfortable in her clothes, which had been aired and washed the night before. Indeed, she was appreciative that her masculine dress afforded her more latitude of movement, and she rejoiced at her newfound ability to breathe without the confines of stays. She vowed she would never again go back to wearing them.
Dean had also removed the fear that her parents would find her. If her pursuers had taken the wrong road to Scotland, she reckoned they would have already lost a whole day’s travel at least. As slow as this coach was, there was no possibility it would be caught; if her father was in pursuit he would likely go all the way to Gretna Green before realizing his error.
With the possibility of detection abated, there remained only her guilt of the previous day to concern her. Her release from fear and the feeling of freedom from the “bondage” of the stays brought about a corresponding lightening of the burden of conscience. Just as there was no longer a risk of being found, there was no longer a risk of being found guilty. At any rate, there was no way she could rescue herself from her choice at this point. She might as well accept it and make the best of it. She decided that she would give herself over wholly to the safe keeping of Mr. Dean.
That evening, the travelers debarked at the ancient town of York. The coolness of the evening confirmed that they were indeed traveling in a northerly direction.
“How many days before we reach Scotland, Mr. Dean?”
“We should cross the border sometime late tomorrow,” he answered.
“And then how many days till we arrive?”
“We should arrive in Edinburgh the next day. From there ‘tis but another day’s journey to Dundee.”
With her newly emancipated attitude, the secrets of the tavern did not intrigue her. Susan was much more anxious to encounter the secrets of the bedchamber and felt more energy to explore them. Taking no care to hide her charms as she undressed that evening, she caught a glimpse of Dean blushing before he turned away from her. She put on his banyan, and leaving it untied, carried her clothes to him as she had done the night before.
“Pray be so good as to shake the dust from them as you did last night, sir.”
He took them from her, still blushing, and left the room with them. When he came back she was already tucked into the bed. Susan watched him as he undressed, clumsily, as if he were aware of her eyes on him the whole time. He removed all his outer garments hastily and tossed them on a chair beside the bed. She had a brief glimpse of him standing in his white loose-fitting shirt with his powerful, muscular thighs bare and visible before he blew out the lamp beside the bed. She heard him jump into the bed and tangle himself in the blankets in his haste.
After he was done untangling himself, she turned to face him. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.
In all the novels she had ever read, the hero kissed the heroine in a situation like this. “You may kiss me, sir. I am not afraid.”
“’Tis not your fear that constrains me.”
“Then what is it? Do you find me too ugly in this garment? It can easily be removed.” She began to divest herself of his banyan.
He grasped her hands. “Dinna remove it. I can assure you that if you were wearing sackcloth, I would find you charming.”
“Then what is it that constrains you? We are lovers. Lovers kiss when they are alone.”
“I am afraid that if I kissed you, I would have a great deal of difficulty to restrain myself further.”
Susan knew that there was more to love than kissing, but none of the novels she had read ever went beyond the kiss, and she was not at all clear in her mind what it was that lay beyond. She had heard rumours and seen rutting cows and dogs, but surely human love could not be as base as animal love? She was curious to discover what the “something beyond” was, especially since it was so secret and forbidden.
“I do not mind,” she said. “We shall be married in a few days’ time. What difference does it make? Now or later, we shall be united either way.”
“The difference is that my conscience will suffer if I try to cheat God, for He sees all and knows the difference.”
“I still do not understand,” she pouted.
“Then I shall endeavour to teach you one day, but not tonight. In the meantime, you must learn a little patience. I no longer expect you to wait five years; all I ask is your patience for a few more days and nights.”
“Can you not at least give me a good-night kiss?”
“Nae, I most certainly canna do that. If you continue to behave like a common strumpet, I shall remove myself to the floor of the dressing room. Would that be to your liking?”
Susan was cut to the quick by his words. The tears started in her eyes, and she turned over and put her back to him.
“I am not so cruel as to push you on the floor, sir. If you do not wish to touch me, I shall not impose myself on you any further.”
“Dinna fash. I dinna mean to be cruel. Perhaps I should pay the extra expense of another room to safeguard our comfort and chastity tomorrow night.”
“Perhaps you should.”
“I would without hesitation, except that I maun economize. A wedding is very expensive.”
Susan lay staring at the wall in front of her. What had she done? She did not know this man. His appearance was handsome and manly, but he acted and spoke like a prude, a woman over-nice and scrupulous. It was even more alarming to her to realize that he was so miserly, worrying about the few pennies that another apartment would cost. She whispered, “Good night, sir,” and cried quietly into the pillow until she fell asleep.
The next day passed as the preceding two, except that now Susan became more preoccupied with her own deep feelings of doubt. She had previously experienced only a minor sensation of guilt at breaking the commandment exhorting her to honour her parents. She might have honoured them if they had considered her feelings, but they had cared only about the propriety that society demanded. Once before she had made the mistake of taking Dean at his word, when he had claimed the belief that all humans were created equal. She had agreed with his statement, and therefore thought she had done no dishonour to herself in choosing him. However, she remembered that he had disappointed her by accepting her parents’ restrictions and rejecting her because they were not of the same class. Last night he had rejected her again for his own moralistic reasons, and he had called her a common strumpet. She was deeply humiliated by this remark and angry with him for naming her what the world would call her, but what he should know was untrue. She had chosen him of her own free will and at considerable risk to herself. Now she felt a deep abiding fear that she had misjudged him, and that he did not love her. She feared that he was marrying her because he was concerned for propriety only, just as her parents had been. What is more, she realized that he regretted the necessity of the marriage because of the expense.
If he did not love her, then she was marrying a cold, moralistic, and impoverished Presbyterian who regarded her as a great financial encumbrance to himself. She feared she would have to suffer the consequence of his ill humour for the rest of her life. This bleak future loomed large in her imagination, and she struggled to think how she would survive in such a loveless marriage. The one hope that she had harboured when she made her choice and embarked on this adventure was that she would have a husband who would respect her and treat her with dignity. If this hope was dashed, then her action now seemed foolhardy indeed, not only to the rest of the world but even to herself.
Chapter 20
The maidservant greeted them as they entered the tavern in Hawick, Scotland. “God gie your honours gude e’en
.”
“Gude e’en to you, hinny,” Dean replied.
Susan looked from one to the other as if they were daft.
“Losh me, lookit ye, a’ drookit and ourie!” The maid exclaimed at the sight of Dean.
“Dinna ye ken there’s been a landlash the lee-lang day?”
“’Tis nought but a flaw, sir. Ye maun hae a bink in the ingle-neuk,” she said and guided them to a place near the fire.
“’Tis cosh, thankee,” Dean replied as he sat down.
“Ye’ll tak a dram, sir?”
“Nae nappy for me, hinny. I’ll hae a bicker o’ ale. Ye’ll take a horn, Master Gardiner?”
“What are you saying, sir?”
“Will you take a drink?”
“Aye,” Susan replied, making a feeble attempt to speak their language.
“Mak’ it twa’ bickers o’ ale.”
“In a breathin’,” the maid said as she left.
Dean was smiling broadly, seeming to be in his element speaking to the barmaid in this kind of butchered English filled with nonsense words. No one had told Susan that they spoke a different language in Scotland. She felt frustrated by her inability to understand and a little angry at Dean’s happiness that had nothing to do with her. It had nothing to do with the weather, either. Ever since they had arrived in Scotland, it had been raining a dreadful drizzle and, being outside on the coach all day, he was soaked to the bone. What cheered him must have been the company of his fellow countrymen, perhaps especially the company of this one woman in particular.
The maid returned with two beakers of ale that she placed before them. “Here’s your deuch,” she said.
“Thankee, hinny.”
“How’s a’ wi’ your fiere? He’s nae muckle to say.”