Miss Jacobson's Journey Read Online Free Page B

behind her, bent down and whispered, “God forbid we should stay where we’re not wanted, Miss Miriam.”
    “It doesn’t look promising, does it?” She signed the note, blotted and folded it, though far from certain it would be needed. “Only, what if we can’t find anyone else to help us cross the Channel?”
    “There’ll be others, God willing, as won’t send you to Spain afore they’ll send you to England.”
    “I’d like to help that English general--but you are right. To travel so far with two gentlemen who resent our presence would be foolish. Herr Rothschild will find someone else. I hate to continue to impose upon the Benjamins, though.”
    “They’re glad to have us, for your uncle’s sake. Let’s be off.”
    “No, I cannot just walk out on Herr Rothschild. We shall wait until he returns.”
    An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room’s occupants. Lord Felix stood at the window, looking out, his fingers tapping impatiently on the sill. Mr. Cohen strode up and down the room, frowning. His lithe pacing reminded Miriam of a black panther she had once seen at the Tower of London zoo.
    Neither of them so much as glanced at her, and she realized that neither had spoken a word directly to her. The situation was impossible.
    Taking another sheet of paper, she drew a swift sketch of a lion and a panther snarling at each other. In one corner two female figures fled shrieking, while in another a troop of French grenadiers took aim at the bellicose cats. She was adding Jakob Rothschild, in the form of a fox, to the drawing, when he himself came in.
    “All arrangements are made,” he announced.
    Miriam jumped to her feet and sped towards him. She and the two others converged on him, all talking at once though Lord Felix must have known his English would not be understood.
    Young Jakob was unruffled. Somehow Miriam found herself being escorted to a chamber where her and Hannah’s belongings were piled. Hannah had stayed behind in the office. In her place, a thin, severe-looking Frenchwoman, all in black, with urgent, irresistible determination helped her to change into a dark blue woollen dress. Her protests were brushed off like an irritating fly, and while she combed out her ringlets and swiftly braided her hair, the boxes were removed.
    The secretary took her back to the office. Hannah rushed to her side, but the others took no notice of her reappearance. Lord Felix, a caped greatcoat of drab cloth now concealing his elegance, watched in angry puzzlement as Herr Rothschild showed an impassive Mr. Cohen some papers.
    “These are your passports,” he explained in Yiddish. “You are Swiss admirers of Napoleon, travelling for pleasure to see the country. You and the Fräulein are brother and sister, and milord is your cousin.”
    With a mocking grin, Mr. Cohen glanced at Lord Felix.
    “What is it?” demanded his lordship. “What is the wretched little Yid up to now?”
    “According to our passports, you have joined our family.”
    “The devil I have! Do I look like a bloody Jew?”
    “Jews come in all shapes and sizes.” He shrugged. “You have a different surname--we’ll be Cohens but you’ll be Rauschberg--so perhaps your father was a goy.”
    “Rauschberg? Why not my own name?”
    “Roworth is too English by half, unpronounceable in any other tongue. I trust you are not going to expect to be addressed as `my lord’?” The last words were a sneer.
    “As relatives,” Miriam pointed out, “we ought doubtless to address each other by our first names.”
    They both turned to glare at her.
    “I can’t see why I must be related at all!” Lord Felix objected furiously.
    “To make it plausible that we should be travelling together. If you insist on accompanying our shipment all the way, then you will have to accept Herr Rothschild’s arrangements.”
    “ Genug shoin!” said the red-haired youth adamantly. “No more arguments. Come, the carriage is ready.” With unshaken calm he walked