Annabeth woke at four in the morning on December 8th. She dressed quickly in a simple, comfortable chemise dress and a warm redingote. Too tired and in too much of a hurry to waste time on styling her hair, she pulled it back into a cap.
Servants came and carried her trunk down to the front hall. Annabeth yawned and hoped that a cup of strong coffee awaited her in the drawing-room.
"Did you know anything about Lady Thalia's elopement?"
Lieutenant Jackson overtook Annabeth in the drawing-room. She gave him an innocent, doll-like smile.
"Since the die is cast, there's no point in lying. Lady Thalia confided in me about her plans and loyalty required that I keep silent."
"And your scheming succeeded in the end."
"Please don't think too poorly of me. I don't want us to part in anger. So let's shake hands and be friends."
He shook her offered hand. She spread out her skirts on a chair by the window.
"Would you care for some coffee?"
Footmen brought in a light refreshment of coffee, bread, and butter.
"Yes. Thank you." Annabeth took a sip of her coffee. "Will you be returning to Portsmouth today?"
The village of Portchester, where Annabeth's Aunt Chase lived, was three miles away from Portsmouth. If Lieutenant Jackson had planned on leaving that day, then they would have to take the same mail coach.
"I'm going with you as far as Olympus. I plan on staying there for a few days before heading home."
Annabeth could not tell if she was relieved or disappointed not to spend nearly two days cooped up in a mail coach with him.
"What's keeping you in Olympus?"
"I'm going to visit my brother, Tyson."
"You didn't mention a brother. I thought you only had a sister."
"Tyson is my father's natural son."
"Oh."
"His mother was a woman my father knew before he met my mother. I don't think my father has ever truly loved any other woman than my mother."
Piper entered the drawing-room on Lord Skye's arm.
"Annabeth, do you have your penknife in your handbag?"
"What does she need a penknife for?" Lord Skye said.
Annabeth produced a silver penknife with a mother-of-pearl handle.
"To defend my virtue from any highwaymen I might encounter on the road. Piper was so convinced we would be attacked by a highwayman during our journey here that I was afraid her poor little heart would break when we weren't."
Piper rolled her eyes.
"Forwarned is Forearmed."
Dona Reyna entered the drawing-room, holding her new fox fur muff.
"The carriage will be ready to leave in ten minutes."
They arrived in Olympus at ten o'clock and had two hours for a leisurely breakfast at the Golden Lion coaching inn before the noon mail left.
Annabeth bid goodbye to everyone in the inn yard.
She embraced Piper, Miss Levesque, Lady Thalia, and Dona Reyna, and shook hands with Lord Skye and Mr. Di Angelo. Her eyes filled with tears. After spending nearly three months with these people, she had grown used to them.
Lieutenant Jackson helped her into the black and red mail coach.
"Have a safe journey, Miss Chase."
His large hand her smaller one. She tried to meet his eye but he turned away.
"I will. I'm too poor and too good at making a nuisance of myself to be a worthwhile hostage for a highwayman."
Annabeth's seat was near the window. As the mail coach pulled away from the inn, she waved to her friends. Lord Skye escorted Piper to her coach. They walked arm in arm and gazed into each other's eyes one more time before they parted. Lieutenant Jackson bowed to them and turned to leave the inn.
"Please turn around," Annabeth whispered as she drove past him. "Please turn around."
He left the inn-yard without turning back.
The over two-day long trip gave Annabeth plenty of time to think about the mistakes she had made. If she had not been so stubborn, reckless, and foolish, she and Lieutenant Jackson might be engaged as Piper and Lord Skye were.
A/N The town of Olympus is based on the seaside town of Weymouth, which was a popular tourist destination during the Georgian era, especially after King George III stayed there in 1789. There's an actual Golden Lion Inn there which you can still stay at today. Weymouth is 81 miles away from Portsmouth. Today, it only takes about an hour and a half to drive this distance.
She tried to distract herself from these regrets by reading a book of poetry called Songs of Innocence by a fellow named William Blake that Mr. Di Angelo recommended, and an abolitionist pamphlet that Miss Levesque lent her. The bumping and jerking and generally cramped conditions of the mail coach made it difficult for her to read, so she mostly stared out of the window at the passing fields and villages.
Perhaps Piper was right to suggest that she carry a penknife with her? Annabeth did not come across any highwaymen but the way some of the gentlemen she was forced to sit next to in the mail coach leered at her, she felt that a weapon might come in handy.
A/N Annabeth to all the creepy dudes she comes across while traveling.
The worst was Monsieur de Chrysaor, a French emigré who thought himself the most dashing and attentive squire a fair maiden could have. Annabeth was relieved not to know French well enough to understand what he said and frustrated that she could not speak the language well enough to tell him to go hang.
Mrs. Dodds, the elderly widow of a clergyman, saw fit to appoint herself Annabeth's chaperone. The venerable dame either clucked about Annabeth like a hen or subjected her to waspish scoldings. Both made Annabeth want to turn her penknife on herself.
The two greatest threats to a young lady traveling alone are presumptuous men and prying old ladies.
For most of the two-day journey, Annabeth sat around in coaching inns. She found herself in a new one every ten miles or so, the distance a mail coach could go in an hour and how far a carriage horse could go without stopping. A warm fire, room to stretch her legs, plentiful refreshments, and easy access to an outhouse or chamber pot meant that these coaching inns were a comfortable place to pass the two-hour interval while the horses rested.
Each day's travels ended at 7 pm when Annabeth spent the night at whatever inn she found herself at. The next leg of the trip began at 6 am the following morning.
At 1 pm on December 9th, Annabeth arrived in the town of Wimborne Minster, the half-way point between Olympus and Portsmouth. The mail coach stopped at the Albion Inn. Ostlers came to take the horses to be fed, watered, and groomed. Serving maids curtsied to Annabeth and the other travelers as they entered the inn's parlor. One of the maids approached Annabeth.
"Are you Miss Annabeth Chase?"
"That depends, who's asking?" Annabeth said.
"The lady at that table by the window is waiting for you."
The maid referred to a petite, fair-haired woman in a dove grey cloak trimmed in sable fur. A matching sable muff rested on the table in front of her.
Annabeth approached her table.
"Aunt Chase!"
The woman popped up from her seat.
"I don't recognize this beautiful, sophisticated young lady who has dined with dukes. She can't be my niece."
Annabeth embraced her niece.
"You never thought the spoiled brat who drove everyone mad would amount to anything, did you?"
"Oh hush now."
A serving maid brought over their refreshments: cold meats, Stilton and cheddar, boiled lobsters, cucumber salad, freshly baked bread, and warm cider.
"How was your trip?"
"It seems like an eternity since I left Olympus. I'm surprised, I'm not moldering in my grave."
"I imagine you weren't too anxious to leave Skye Castle. Chase Mansion will seem quite poky and provincial now."
"Skye Castle is a fairytale palace. I'm grateful to have spent time there, no matter how little."
After taking their refreshments, a guide offered to show them St Cuthburga's Church, which was a short walk away from the Albion Inn. Annabeth rose from her seat and fetched her embroidered silk muff.
"Sounds lovely. Aunt Chase, what do you think?"
"If you'll find it amusing, my dear, I have no objection."
The afternoon was clear and pleasant. Fresh air and exercise were welcome after hours spent cooped up inside a mail coach. Annabeth and Aunt Chase walked arm in arm and followed their guide, who explained that the nave and central tower of St. Cuthburga's Church dated back to Saxon times.
Aunt Chase leaned against Annabeth's shoulder.
"What were your host and hostess like? I've heard that the Duke and Duchess of Olympus are quite grand."
"His Grace is a gouty old lecher and Her Grace spent most of the three months in a fog of wine and opium."
"And their son?"
"Lord Skye is one of the finest gentlemen I've ever met. He is quite taken with my friend Piper. They're engaged."
"I remember Piper: the pretty little brunette with the French mother. She must be quite the belle by now."
"And her outer beauty is nothing compared to her inner beauty."
"What a triumph for her, winning herself a coronet ."
"I think his coronet is the least of the reasons why she loves him if it's a reason at all. No one's freer from self interest than Piper."
The guide pointed out the different Gothic architectural elements added to the mostly Norman structure of the church.
"And you, did you have any beaux?"
Annabeth turned away.
"I'm weary, Aunt. Let's return to the inn."