Caroline dug an elbow into James’s ribs. Her cousin sprang awake and glared at her.
“You are snoring, and it is keeping me awake. You might want to use the extra blanket to prop you up into a better position. One which allows you to breathe better,” she said.
James looked to Francis who was seated on the bench opposite. He shook his head. But there was no support to be found from his cousin.
“You snore like that large dog of yours when it falls asleep in the hallway. Or did you buy the dog to hide your own terrible secret?” said Francis.
Caroline chuckled. The Radley family dog’s name was officially King, but to everyone he was known as Pound. As in the pound of flesh he normally gulped down in one go at every meal. Once fed, he would take to his favorite sleeping place, which was the middle of the hallway at the Bishop of London’s family home at Fulham Palace.
“Very amusing. You should be on the stage,” replied James.
Caroline applauded his clever response, and even Francis smiled. She moved along the bench and tried to make an inch more space to get comfortable. Their Uncle Ewan, the Duke of Strathmore, had graciously granted them use of his private travel coach for the long journey to Newhall Castle, but even in the well-appointed coach there was little room to find comfort.
While the journey to Derbyshire was much shorter than the one they made each year to the family estate in Scotland, it was still not something Caroline was particularly enjoying.
Instead of happily telling all her friends of her grand plans for the week or so away, she was leaving London under a cloud. If her own family thought poorly of her, what did others outside of her kin think?
She pulled up the thick woolen blanket which was on her lap and wrapped it about her shoulders. Autumn was fast turning into winter. From the pockets of snow, she had observed on the ground as they passed through Northamptonshire, she wondered just how cold it would be when they finally reached Newhall Castle.
As if reading her mind, James stomped his feet on the floor of the coach. He shrugged his shoulders before huffing loudly. “I should not have packed my heavy coat in with my luggage. At our next stop, I shall ask the coachman to retrieve it from the rooftop.”
“Where did summer go? Oh yes, we did not get one,” replied Francis.
Caroline sighed. Long coach journeys were always a trial, but usually entertainment could either be found in a good book or made from conversation. With neither her brother or James in a particularly happy frame of mind, the trip was taking its toll on her already stretched mind. She had to break the black mood before it took a deeper hold.
“Apparently Newhall Castle has some of the best hunting in all of England. The current earl’s father stocked up on game birds and deer over the years he held the estate. You two should find plenty to do outside of the normal party games,” she said.
“That could be fun; I am always up for some venison pie. We should try to get a spot of shooting practice in before we head to Scotland,” replied Francis.
James nodded. He was an expert deer stalker, considered even better than his father, Hugh, who had been family champion for many years. “If Newhall will let us hunt outside of season, that would be splendid. I could do with a good stomp over some muddy fields.”
“And me. I bagged a brace of grouse last time I went hunting on Strathmore Mountain. I think I have finally found my eye when it comes to shooting,” she said. Caroline loved being rugged up in a heavy overcoat and boots and wandering off into the wilds of Scotland. The bracing chill of the air cleared the cobwebs from her mind.
“You are supposed to be a potential bride for the host. I am not so sure that you will be considered for the manlier entertainments of the week,” replied Francis.
Caroline snorted in disgust. She was not going to be brushed aside that easily by her male relatives. Why should they have all the fun of gadding about the estate while she was left to keep company with other young ladies? While they were vying to win Lord Newhall’s affections, she just wanted to keep clear of him altogether.
She and Lord Newhall were not close. They were not even remotely friends. She was in no doubt that her name would be stone last on his list of potential brides. “I was invited to make up the numbers. His mother arranged the guest list, so I expect she felt obliged to invite me rather than risk offending our family.”
Francis growled at her. He clearly shared the same opinion about the trip that Will had. She was wasting an opportunity if she intended to keep her distance from their host and other guests.
“How about you and I make a bargain? I shall speak to Newhall about allowing you to join the hunting party, if you agree to make an attempt to be warm and amenable to him and the other guests,” replied Francis.
The low whistle of shock from James echoed in Caroline’s ears. She was being taken to task over her haughty demeanor.
The Caroline Saunders of only a few weeks earlier would have lashed out and given her brother a piece of her mind, but now she sat and quietly considered his words. Aside from her family members, she had few real friends. With her sister, Eve, living her own life, Caroline’s social circle had reduced to her small court of admirers. None of whom she considered to be friends.
“Am I really that horrid?” she asked.
James reached over and took her gently by the hand. “We are not saying you are a horrible person, but you could do better by being more tolerant of others. You do have a harsh way about you at times.”
She sniffed back the tears which threatened. It was difficult enough to think poorly of oneself, but having recently heard it from several members of her own family the realization that she was not a particularly nice person, cut to the bone. Somewhere she had lost herself, and finding her way back would not be easy.
While she had found herself becoming more reflective as of late, overcoming deeply ingrained habits would take a depth of character she feared she did not possess. So many times, she had promised herself to be kind to her court of suitors, but every time she had failed.
“Alright then. If you put in a good word for me with Lord Newhall, I shall make every endeavor to be pleasant and hospitable,” she replied. She let James keep hold of her hand, smiling when he gave it a friendly squeeze. She understood that their comments came from a place of affection for her, and that they were not seeking to reprimand her.
“Good. Though from the look of the weather, I am not so sure we will get to have much hunting time. It’s beginning to snow,” said Francis.
Caroline looked out the window and her mood brightened. She smiled. Winter was her favorite time of the year.
James chuckled. “I can’t wait to see the look on the faces of the other guests when they see you do your snow dance. The Ice Queen comes!”