by Byrnes, Tess
Hugh ate the meal prepared for him, without paying it much attention. He drank the better part of a bottle of claret, and sat before the fire staring into the dancing flames until the publican came to see why his noble guest had not gone up to his room. Hugh arranged to have the fresh team harness to his curricle at an early hour, and retired to his room to continue to dream of the red-haired spitfire who was leading him on this merry dance.
Chapter Eighteen
Miles negotiated the crowded London roads skillfully, managing to avoid the many street carts, gigs, barouches and curricles, all competing for room on the narrow lanes. He had to stop for directions more than once, but as the afternoon wore on, he found his way to Lambeth and the Clapham road. The little trio had been up before the sun, and had made good time with a fresh team of horses, and were rewarded by being in Lambeth well before sunset.
Inside the hired conveyance, Bridget had fallen silent, and sat with her nose pressed against the small window, looking for the sign that would indicate that they had found Fraser’s Carriers. Sally was torn between happiness for the girl, and her unspoken fears that Robbie would be less than pleased to see her. At last Miles pulled into a gated yard, and brought the carriage to a stop. Sally and Bridget climbed out, and stood in a spacious cobbled yard, with a little house and a much larger stable in it. The buildings appeared well-maintained, and a small border of flowers lining the house was very cheering.
Looking around, Sally noted a sign over the stable that proclaimed ‘Fraser’s’, and concluded that Miles had gotten them to the right place.
“Thank you, Miles!” Sally addressed her groom. ‘Very well done!”
“Thank you, miss,” Miles replied. “I’ll go secure us rooms at The George, miss. It’s getting late, and we won’t have enough light to leave London this night. We won’t want to be wandering around in the dark looking for a place to stay.”
Sally scanned the sky, and nodded. She pulled a heavy leather pouch from her reticule, and counted out a few coins into Miles’s hand.
“Here, Miles. This should cover stabling the team at a livery, and enough left over for you to get yourself something to eat.” She put the pouch away, the heavy weight in her hand reassuring. She had spent very little of her hoarded funds so far, and that was due in part to Bridget’s knowledge of keeping house. Sally pulled the strings of her reticule closed, and slipped the loops over her wrist, as Miles climbed back onto the box, and drove out of the yard.
Sally looked at Bridget with an encouraging smile, and saw that the girl was almost visibly quivering with anticipation. Taking Bridget’s small, cold hand in hers, the two approached the stable.
The wide double doors were open, and the comforting smell of hay and horses wafted up to them as they cautiously entered into the dark interior. There was a huge dray cart in the middle of the stables, and loose boxes along the side in which two horses were munching their evening meal of oats and hay. Ropes and highly-polished pieces of tackle adorned the walls, neatly hung from nails and hooks at an easily accessible level. It all gave the impression of a very well-run establishment, and Sally felt her spirits rising. She had not revealed to Bridget that if she found the place to be slatternly or at all disreputable, it was her firm intention to return the maid to Whitethorne cottage forthwith. Sally could hear voices coming from somewhere near the back of the structure.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Be right with you,” a male voice called back.
Sally gave Bridget an encouraging smile, and a moment later, a large youth came into view.
Robbie Fraser was indeed a tall young man, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame. But only his mother, or, it seemed, Bridget, would have called him a handsome lad. A thatch of straw-colored hair sat atop a round face, with a snub nose, freckles and small blue eyes. His eyebrows and lashes were so fair as to appear invisible. His mouth was hanging open in astonishment, which Sally thought charitably, was probably the reason that he did not appear to be exactly needle-witted.
“Bridget!” he exclaimed, as if dumbfounded.
“Robbie,” she replied in thrilling tones, and launched herself at him. Robbie caught her up in his well-muscled arms, and the two twirled slowly in a circle, the rest of the world forgotten.
“Oh Robbie, I was afraid I would never see you again,” Bridget sobbed into her beau’s shoulder.
“Nay, then, Bridget,” Robbie objected. “You knew I’d be coming back for you.”
“I have so much to tell you,” Bridget quavered.
“Slowly, lass,” Robbie said stolidly. “We have our whole lives to talk.”
Sally felt her eyes misting up. A smile quirked the corner of her lips, and she backed out of the building, to give the young lovers their privacy. She looked back briefly, and Robbie had set Bridget down, and was holding her shining face between his hands, a foolish grin on his face. Sally was still smiling as she walked out into the yard.
The Earl had arrived at the carrier’s yard well before Miles had, being much more familiar with the city than the groom. He had observed the sturdy lad working industriously in the yard, cleaning tackle, and brushing down the horses. Bridget’s intended was certainly a hardworking lad.
From his vantage spot across the lane, Hugh had watched as Miles had negotiated the carriage into the carrier’s yard, and had seen the two women enter the barn. When Sally emerged a few moments later with a sentimental smile on her face, he surmised that her quest had been successful. From Sally’s satisfied expression, he assumed that Bridget had indeed found her carrier’s lad. Watching Sally now, as she wandered around the yard, smiling at the young lovers’ happiness, Hugh felt an almost overwhelming desire to go to her. She looked almost fragile in the dim light, tall but very slightly built. The mass of red gold girls piled up on top of her head seemed almost too heavy for her long slim neck. But Hugh knew that her internal strength belied that frail image. Sally Denham was a force to be reckoned with.
Before he could make up his mind to reveal his presence, Bridget and her swain approached Sally, and swept her up with them into the little house.
Hugh chirruped to his team, and the matched pair moved forward. Since his assistance would apparently not be required, it was his intention to spend the night in his town house in Mayfair, and then return to Castle Kane on the morrow. As he tooled the team in that direction, he couldn’t help admiring Sally’s execution of her plan. He was not greatly surprised that Sally had completed her errand so neatly. Miss Denham was a girl of great resolve and enterprise. In truth, he felt a little foolish at having driven for two days only to spy on Sally while she competently delivered Bridget to her new future, but he could not in conscience have done anything else. It would have been impossible to drive about his estate with Clarissa Riding while Sally put herself at risk driving all over London. Hugh dropped his hands, and his team slowed to a walk. Clarissa Riding. He would have to make it very plain to the Ridings that he was not going to declare himself. Somehow, in the few weeks since he had last danced with the ravishing beauty at Almack’s, his desire to offer his hand and heart to the envy of all his acquaintance had altered significantly. In fact, when he tried to summon an image the blonde Toast of London in his mind’s eye, all he could see was Sally as she had looked that last morning at Castle Kane. With her red-gold curls tumbled over his pillow-case, and her silky-soft limbs entwined with his own.
He was startled out of his reverie by the angry shouts of the hansom cab driver behind him.
“Get a move on, Guv’nor!” the man called angrily. “What are you waiting for? Christmas?”
Hugh realized guiltily that his team had come to a halt, and snapped the reigns, putting his team back in motion. He definitely needed to sort some things out, not the least of which was what to do with the fiery Miss Denham.
“So this is the famous Bridget?” Mrs. Fraser took Bridget’s chin in one pudgy hand, and scrutinized her closely. “Our Robbie has not stopped talking about you
since first he went to Scotland last spring.”
Bridget’s face suffused with color, and she let out her breath in a whoosh. “Hasn’t he? Really?” she asked, in a pleased voice.
‘You’d best come in and have some supper,” Mrs. Fraser offered. “Robbie would skin me alive if I didn’t feed you up.”
“Nay, then,” Robbie objected. “Bridget, love, this is my brother’s wife, Mable. She’s the best cook in London.”
“Bridget has quite a knack in that department, too,” Sally chimed in.
“I’m sure I’m not a patch on your sister-in-law,” Bridget assured Robbie, eyeing the older woman nervously.
Mable Fraser merely nodded at the girl complacently. “Not to worry, dearie. You’ve chosen a lad that could use the combined cooking of two to feed him up. I’ve never seen him walk away from the table with anything left upon it yet.”
They followed the woman as she spoke into a small, hot kitchen, and took seats around a wooden table that held two fat, brown loaves of bread cooling on a rack. There was a pot on the stove emanating the succulent smell of lamb stew, and Sally’s stomach rumbled loudly in response.
Mrs. Fraser looked at the two women. ‘You’ll be wanting a bite of supper, then,” she stated calmly, ladling stew into three small stoneware bowls without waiting for a response. “Cut a slice of bread, then.” Sally, feeling a little overwhelmed, obediently handed Bridget a piece of the warm bread, and dug her spoon into the bowl.
“This is delicious, thank you, Mrs. Fraser,” she said sincerely. “You are very kind.” Sally took another bite of the lamb stew, and glanced at her companions. Bridget and Robbie had their heads close together, fingers entwined, eyes locked, their dinner completely forgotten. Sally, feeling very much like an outsider, was consumed with a sudden an unexpected feeling of envy. She knew what it was like to love someone, to want to spend your life with them. She knew desire and deep satisfaction. But she had no experience of this complete reciprocity, the meeting of two lovers as one, the knowledge that they had a lifetime to spend together. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping noisily on the stone floor of the kitchen.
“I must go,” she said, feeling a need to get away from the happy couple. “I mean, Miles will be returning to fetch me.”
Bridget sprang to her feet, and came around the table to take Sally’s hands. “How can I ever thank you, miss?” she said, quick tears in her eyes. “You’ve brought me back to my Robbie.”
The young man came around to slip an arm around Bridget. “Yes, Miss Denham. Bridget has told me how you rescued her. All I can say is, if there’s ever anything Robbie Fraser can do for you, you can consider it done.”
“Thank you very much, Robbie. I wish you both very happy.”
“Robbie is going to take me to his mother’s house tomorrow,” Bridget informed Sally. “We’ll have the banns read out, and we shall be married as soon as may be. Oh, miss, I’m so happy. And it’s all because of you.”
“You are entirely welcome,” Sally told her, edging towards the door. “Good bye and good luck!” She made her escape, and once out in the yard she looked about for Miles. There was no sign of him yet, so she strolled in the direction of the lane, enjoying the feeling of the cool evening air on her heated cheeks.
The sun was almost down, and the linkboys were busily lighting the street lamps. Sally walked with her head down, lost in thought, and unaware of her surroundings. Suddenly she was jostled by a passerby, and looked up expecting an apology. A man and a boy pushed past her.
She met the eyes of the young boy who appeared to be about ten years of age. He doffed his cap, and gave her a cheeky grin. “Can you spare sixpence, miss? I’m ever so hungry.”
Sally pulled at the strings of her reticule, thinking to give the boy a coin. She knew that he was probably a professional beggar, and that it would be in her best interest to turn and walk back to the carrier’s yard at once. But she couldn’t tolerate the thought that he might really be hungry and without means.
Sally reached into her bag, and was horrified as her hand continued down and through a neat slit in the bottom of her bag. She looked at her hand, emerging from the bottom of her empty reticule, and her heart stopped. “I’ve been robbed,” she said blankly.
“Shame, that,” the boy shook his head in mock sympathy. ‘Can’t trust anyone these days!” He ran off, laughing, leaving Sally standing in the street, open mouthed.
She had heard tales of the cut-purses who lurked in the city. These individuals approached the unsuspecting and, using a very sharp knife, slit open pockets and purses, allowing the fat purses inside to fall into their waiting hands. An icy feeling settled over Sally. All her money had been in that leather pouch. With it gone, how could she continue in the little cottage?
A deep anger started to bubble within her. When was her bad luck going to stop? First it was Lady Greenly and her vicious tongue. Then it was Clarissa Riding and her perfect profile. And now some unsavory thief with one uncaring slash of his knife, had taken away Sally’s entire means of independence.
She wanted to scream, but instead she retraced her steps back to the carrier’s yard. She didn’t even have enough money to pay for the rooms that Miles had gone to bespeak for her. When Miles came back for her they would have to start immediately back for the cottage, and sleep along the road somewhere. She thought about Miles and Millie. She had led them away from everything they knew to live with her in the cottage in Scotland, and wait with her until she could assume her fortune. How could they live without any funds? She thought about the time they had spent at Whitethorne cottage; the cold rooms, the lumpy oatmeal, and more bowls of root vegetable stew than she could count. Whitethorne cottage had been her sanctuary, though, the place where she had let fall the burden of reputation and shame, and had embraced a freedom that she could not have imagined in her previous life. Sally closed her eyes and pictured Hugh McLeod, the Earl of Kane, disheveled and smiling after making love in the small room at the top of the stairs. Yes, she thought, Whitethorne cottage was indeed her home. Sally paced up and down, her brow furrowed, trying to find a way out of her predicament.
It was another half an hour before Miles approached Sally, as she stood with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering slightly in the evening air.
“I’ve put the team into a respectable stable, Miss Sally,” he informed her. “And it’s just a step around the corner to the George. Has Bridget found her Robbie, then?”
“She has, Miles, and he was just as happy to see her as she was him.” she replied, giving the good news first. “But something dreadful has happened, Miles. I have lost all our money.” She held up her reticule, with the slit across the bottom. “I can’t imagine how I could have been so stupid. Oh Miles, I’ve let you and Millie down.”
Miles took Sally’s hands and led her over to a nearby bench. “Well, miss, I’ll not deny that’s a blow.”
“I know, Miles. I was foolish to carry all of my funds with me, but it seemed as if the safest thing was to have it on my person at all times. I am so sorry!”
“You’ll think of something,” Miles said encouragingly.
“I have.” Sally said grimly. “I have turned over every scenario in my mind. If I return to Whitethorne cottage, we would all have to seek positions. And there is the added complication that I am in danger of being taken into custody for stealing the Earl’s tiepin should anyone from Castle Kane see me. No, there is only one option, Miles. I will have to return to my grandmother. I will bring Millie with me, and I will try to find a way to get us back to Whitethorne cottage. Maybe I can find a way to get to London and talk to my father’s man of business. If I could just access my inheritance, we would be set. But I can’t think of any way to do that unless I return to my grandmother.” She raised troubled eyes to her faithful groom. “Miles, I will ask the Earl to employ you until I turn twenty-one, unless I can find a solution sooner, and then I will form an establishment of my own and promise that I will take you
back.”
“Miss Sally,” Miles objected. “I have a little money laid aside. And if I find work, we could get by.”
“No, Miles,” Sally shook her head firmly. “I thought I could make a go of it, but I have made so many mistakes. It won’t be that bad.” A rueful smile crept into her eyes. “My grandmother is more to be pitied than I am. Come, you must bid Bridget farewell and get the team back from the livery stable before we incur the charges of stabling them overnight. Hopefully that will leave us with enough money to change horses and get back to Whitethorne cottage.”
Miles stood, and pulled her to her feet. “Well, miss, I’ve never seen a jump you couldn’t get over yet. It may take you a little longer than you thought, but I have no doubt you’ll figure this puzzle out, one way or another.”
Sally smiled, and gave her friend a quick hug. “Thank you, Miles.”
Chapter Nineteen
Miles tooled the little gig up the drive to Waverly, and as they reached the front steps, he pulled up and turned to his mistress.
“Are you sure, miss?” he asked, seeing the look on Sally’s face. “We could go back to Whitethorne cottage right now. We’ll find a way to get by.”
Sally straightened her shoulders. “I am quite sure,” she replied, trying to sound like she meant it. “Here is a letter for you to give to the Earl. I have asked him to employ you until I come of age. That is only a little more than a year, Miles. After Millie has packed up our things, please bring her here, and then go to the Earl. You can stay at the cottage for the remainder of our tenancy if you prefer that to the servants’ accommodations at the Castle. You know that we still have almost ten months on the lease.”
