Page 45 of Impetuous

“Sir Philip!” Hart greeted Cassandra’s companion as an old friend. “It was capital. They let us help them water and feed the horses, and Will Coachman even let me hold the whip!”

“Did he, now? He must have been impressed with you indeed.”

“He let us all hold the whip,” Olivia said, giving her younger brother a scornful glance.

“He said we could take turns riding on the seat with them, if it was all right with you,” Crispin told them eagerly. “Is it, sir? Could we?”

“Will said that?”

“Yes.” Olivia nodded vigorously. “He said we asked clever questions, and he had never heard the like of us. That’s good, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” Neville’s lips curved up into a smile. “If Will is willing to take you on, it is all right with me.”

“Who gets to go first?” Hart pursued the subject with his usual tenacity.

“First?” Sir Philip looked unprepared for this controversy, and he cast a beseeching glance toward Cassandra.

“Me, silly,” Crispin demanded, giving his twin a shove on the shoulder. “I am Lord Chesilworth.”

“Hah! You think that gives you the right to do everything first!”

“I’m the oldest,” Olivia stated. “Besides, if you were gentlemen, you would let a lady go first.”

“A lady! You?” Hart snorted.

“A flimsy reason, if you want to be allowed to do the things that the boys are,” Cassandra reminded her. “Hart could make arguments that he should go first because he is the youngest or because, since he will not be receiving the title and lands, he should at least get the compensation of things like riding atop the carriage. My suggestion is that you draw straws to see who will go first.”

“And a very sensible suggestion it is, too,” Sir Philip said gratefully.

In the end, it was Hart who got the first chance to ride atop the carriage, followed by Olivia, then Crispin. Crispin put on a look of noblesse oblige, as if he had allowed them to go before him because he was too noble to do otherwise.

With the children rotating their turns in the high driver’s seat, there was plenty of room within the spacious carriage, and Sir Philip took advantage of it by tying his horse to the back of the carriage and riding inside. Cassandra was sure that her cousin and aunt were furious, but there was nothing they could do about it, riding in a separate carriage.

It was scarcely as if they shared a private moment, for there were two of Cassandra’s siblings with them the entire time, but at least they were able to chat about whatever took their fancy, cudgeling their brains all over again about the incomplete map, the possible location of the other map and the likelihood of finding the treasure even with both maps.

The carriage stopped for a late luncheon in Banbury. Cassandra watched with some amusement as Joanna and her mother maneuvered to sit at the table on either side of Sir Philip, excluding her. Joanna proceeded to monopolize him with teasing, girlish chatter, and her mother took up the slack whenever she paused to draw a breath. Cassandra, sitting across the table, watched Sir Philip’s eyes glaze over with boredom and thought with a glee that she was sure was unworthy and not at all ladylike that Joanna was probably doing the worst thing she possibly could to snag Philip Neville’s heart. Cassandra wasn’t about to enlighten her—not that Joanna would have listened to anything a bookish spinster such as Cassandra would have to say.

As soon as they finished eating, Sir Philip bobbed up, relief all over his face, and announced that they must press on if they hoped to reach their destination by nightfall.

It turned out that they missed that goal, for they were delayed by a broken wheel on the Moultons’ carriage. Leaving the carriage to be mended and brought on to them, they continued their journey with Joanna and Mrs. Moulton riding in Sir Philip’s carriage. If she could have thought of any way for her to have done it, Cassandra would almost have believed that Aunt Ardis had caused the wheel to break so that they could ride in Sir Philip’s carriage. Their happiness was short-lived, however, for Sir Philip, noting that the carriage would be too crowded if he were to continue to ride in it, with gentlemanly courtesy resumed riding his horse.

“Coward,” Cassandra murmured as he moved past her on his way out the door, and he flashed her a conspiratorial grin.

They arrived after dark at a stately manor house not far from Northampton, the home of Sir Philip’s aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Philby. Lady Philby was a woman of great rectitude and snobbery, and so boring about it that even Aunt Ardis could barely hide her yawns. His Lordship, on the other hand, was a benign, avuncular sort who managed through the course of the evening to pinch the bottoms of all three of the young women present. It was a great relief when it was late enough that they could excuse themselves, citing travel weariness, and bolt for their rooms.

Sir Philip, escorting them, bowed over Cassandra’s hand in front of the room she would share with her sister and said, with a wink, “Every family tree has a few branches they would like to lop off, wouldn’t you say?”

Cassandra, even tired as she was, had to laugh.

* * *

THE TOWER OF Ely Cathedral thrust heavenward in the distance, commanding the attention of all who saw it. Built on a knoll, it dominated the flat land around it. Cassandra, her head stuck shamelessly out the window to get a better view, let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

“Ohh…” She breathed. “It is even more awe-inspiring than I had imagined.”

Eyes sparkling, she turned to Sir Philip. It was the afternoon of the third day of their journey, but whatever tiredness she had felt from their travel had been swept away by the sight of the cathedral, bathed in the glow of the afternoon sun.

“The best time to see it is in the autumn at twilight. Then, rising up out of the mists, the dying sun touching it with gold, it looks…well, as it must have looked hundreds of years ago, a sanctuary for the hunted.”