Elizabeth Mansfield (6 page)

“Oh, do sit down, Oswald,” Camilla said impatiently. “This has nothing to do with you. There’s no reason for you to run off without your breakfast.”

Trapped, Oswald clumsily sank into a chair, but it was clear to all of them that he would take no pleasure from this morning’s meal. He was reaching half-heartedly for the covered platter containing the coddled eggs when Hicks tapped at the door and came in. He was dressed in his Sunday coat instead of his butler’s garb, and he carried a shabby beaver in one hand and a stuffed portmanteau in the other. “I’ve come to say goodbye, Miss Camilla,” he said stiffly.

“And a good riddance!” Ethelyn said, sailing into the room behind him. “Then this will be the last time I’ll have to take you to task for calling her ladyship ‘Miss Camilla.’” She breezed past the infuriated butler and took her place. “I’m delighted, Camilla, that you’ve come to your senses. Good heavens,
what
are you
wearing?
”

“Never mind that,” Camilla said. “I’ve something important to say to Hicks before he leaves.”

“Mama, you’re not going to let Hicks
leave
, are you?” Pippa asked, jumping up and running to the butler’s side in alarm.

“Don’t worry, poppet,” whispered Miss Townley, who was watching the proceedings from the open doorway. “Your mother has a plan.”

“Don’t care if she has,” the butler muttered. “There’s nothing she can devise to make me remain.”

“Well, Camilla, say what it is you have to say, and let the fellow take his leave,” Ethelyn ordered impatiently, “for I have a thing or two to say to
you
, and I don’t want to wait all day to say it!”

Camilla folded her hands tightly in her lap and sat up very straight. “If you wish to say something
about my putting off mourning, Ethelyn, you may as well save your breath. The length of my period of mourning is my own affair.”

“I think, my dear,” Oswald said uncomfortably, “that I’ll just pop out for a … a stroll. Glorious morning, you know. Glorious. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Be quiet, Oswald,” Ethelyn ordered, motioning him to remain in his chair. “Really, Camilla, you’ve no need to take that tone. If you wish to incur the disapproval of all our friends and neighbors by appearing in colors before the year has passed, I’m sure I wouldn’t take it upon myself to chastise you.”

“Thank you. Then I may speak to Hicks without further interruption.” Camilla stood up and walked round the table to the butler. “I know you no longer wish to remain here in this house, Hicks, and I won’t insist that you do, but—”

“Thank the Good Lord for
that
, at least,” Ethelyn muttered.

“I’ve had quite enough breakfast, my dear,” Oswald mumbled, “so if you don’t mind—”

“Be
quiet
, I said!” his wife barked.

Camilla gave them both a look of reproval and turned back to Hicks. “As I was saying, I won’t insist that you remain, but you wouldn’t object to remaining in my employ, would you?”

The butler looked at her, puzzled. “Well, no, Miss Camilla, but I don’t understand how—”

“I’d like you to execute a commission in London for me.”

“Camilla, what is this all about?” Ethelyn asked, her brow wrinkled in annoyance. “Why do you want
him
to do it? We have any number of servants who would be much more capable—”

“Hicks is the perfect choice for
this
commission, I assure you.”

“But what is it you want him to
do?
”

“I want him to find me a house. And since the house will be in his charge, he’s the best one to find it.”

“A
house?
What are you talking about?”

“I’d better take myself off to—” Oswald said in desperation.

“Oswald, will you be
still?
How can you wish to scurry off when Camilla has obviously lost her mind? Really, Camilla, it’s the outside of enough to buy a house for the fellow in London! You can certainly find him a retirement abode in some less expensive—”

“But the house in London is not for
him
to live in … not alone, that is.”

“Why … what on earth do you mean?” Ethelyn demanded, half rising from her chair.

“I’ve decided,” Camilla said, turning to face them all and speaking with a tense firmness, “that Pippa and I shall be taking up residence in London.”

There was a moment of complete silence, during which no one in the room seemed able to draw a breath. Then Oswald spoke up. “I really
must
ask to leave the room.”

“Oh,
Mama!
” Pippa cried, jumping up and down jubilantly. “What a perfectly
splendid
notion!”

“Miss Camilla,” Miss Townley exlaimed, “you’re a
genius
.”

Hicks pumped her hand. “You’ve made me a happy man, Miss Camilla. A very happy man.”

“Camilla!” The room fell silent as Ethelyn rose grandly to her feet. “You are speaking utter nonsense. You will do nothing of the sort.”

Everyone watched intently while Ethelyn and Camilla faced each other. But for Camilla, the war was over. She’d made a decision she knew in her bones was right, and Ethelyn was powerless to stop her. Her trembling ceased. With a look of compassion, she crossed the room and put a light hand on her sister-in-law’s arm. “I
will
do it, Ethelyn,” she said quietly. “Don’t look so thunderstruck. In a very short time you’ll get used to the idea. And one day, much sooner than you think, you’ll agree that I’ve made the very best decision for us all.”

By the time the last customer had stumbled out of the taproom of the Crown and Cloves, Twyford, and into the rain, it was well past midnight. But Betsy Hicks, the barmaid, still had the washing-up to do. The innkeeper’s wife had, as usual, followed her husband up to bed, leaving every remaining chore to Betsy. Wearily, she washed and dried the glasses, wiped down the tables and swept the floor. Then, every bone aching, she got down on her knees, smothered the remainder of the fire with a bucketful of ashes and, patting her slightly swelling belly as if making a promise to the budding life within that only one more chore remained, swept the ashes back into the bucket and deposited it outside the back door.

The rain was coming down heavily now. Although her room over the stable was only a step away, she pulled off her apron and held it over her head as she dashed across the cobbled courtyard and into the stable door. Every step up the rickety ladder to her room seemed an enormous effort, and she was breathing heavily by the time she reached the top. She longed for sleep. Tonight she’d make only a hasty washing before throwing herself into bed. Usually she liked to daydream of Daniel when she snuggled under the blankets, but tonight she would probably be asleep before she could even bring his face to mind. It was cruel of Mrs. Crumley to keep her working so late, especially since she was four months pregnant. She limped down the short passageway with the painful shuffle of an aged crone.
If only Daniel would get home
, she prayed,
before these endless hours of work make an old woman of me
.

She’d barely opened the door and stepped over the threshold, wondering if she’d left herself a match with which to light the candle, when she was seized about the shoulders from behind, and a hand clamped down firmly on her mouth. Terrified, she struggled wildly. “Shhh, girl,” a man’s voice whispered in her ear, “it’s only me. Don’t make a noise when I let ye go.”

“
Daniel!
” Betsy, trembling from head to toe, couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or strike him. “How
could
ye—”

But he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the hunger that more than three months of separation had built up in him, and she forgot her fright and anger and let herself surrender to the urgency of his embrace. “Oh, Dan’l, love,” she murmured breathlessly between kisses, “I thought ye’d never … I’m so
happy!
” It was not until she heard a match being struck by someone behind her that she realized there was someone else in the room. “Daniel,” she asked with a troubled start, “who—”

The match flared up, revealing a shadowy figure on the other side of the room. “Don’t make any noise, love,” Daniel warned in a hissing whisper. “It’s my friend, Tom, that I wrote ye of. We been sittin’ here in the dark for three hours, waitin’ fer you t’ finish yer chores.”

“Sorry we had to break in on you this way, Mrs. Hicks,” Tom said quietly, lighting a candle on Betsy’s bedside table.

Betsy put a hand to her heaving breast and sank down on the bed, looking from one man to the other. “Somethin’s gone wrong, ain’t it? That’s why ye didn’t come to the inn to fetch me. Somethin’s terrible wrong. I’ve felt it in my bones all day.”

Daniel sat down beside her, took her hand and stroked it gently. “Don’t take on when I tell ye. I …
can’t stay with ye. We’re on the run.”

“On the
run?
” In the dim light of the candle she searched his face, taking agonized note of his puffed right eye, and ugly bruise on his left cheek and a bit of dried blood on his lip. “Oh, my God! What is it ye’ve
done
?”

Quickly, without going into minor details, he related to her the events of the evening before—the encounter with the press-gang and the struggle in the cabin of the
Undaunted
. “We’re in fer it now, y’ see,” he concluded glumly. “They’ll be lookin’ fer us up and down the coast.”

“But, why?” Betsy asked, fingering her husband’s bruised face tenderly. “Ye’ve given them the slip, haven’t ye? They’ll forget all about ye as soon as they nab some other poor sot in yer place.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. That Captain Brock’ll remember us, fer sure. And the officer—what was his name, Tom?”

“Moresby.”

“Aye, Moresby. He’ll not forget us, neither. We’ve got to get away, love.” His voice choked. “We only waited so’s I could say goodbye to ye.”

“No!” the girl cried, flinging her arms round his neck. “Ye’ll not go a step without me! I swore to myself ever since ye left that I’ll never say goodbye to ye again.”

Daniel buried his face in her neck. “Nay, love, don’t be foolish,” he murmured brokenly. “We don’t know where we’ll end. We can’t—”

She put a hand to his mouth to stop his words and shook her head. They clung to each other for a long moment. Then she pushed him away and got to her feet. “Y’re wet and cold and prob’ly hungry. We can’t think straight in such a state.” She wiped her eyes, sniffed bravely and tried to pull herself together. Straightening her shoulders, she looked at Tom shyly. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, holding a hand out to him. “I been very rude. I’m most pleased t’ meet ye after all Daniel’s wrote me about ye.”

Tom took her hand and smiled down at her. “Daniel told me about you, too, especially how pretty you are. I was sure the fellow was lying, but I see now that he didn’t exaggerate a bit.”

A pathetic little smile made an appearance at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, pooh, I must look a sight.” She blushed and pushed aside a fallen lock of hair. “But I want t’ thank ye, Mr. Collinson, for bein’ such a good friend to my Daniel.”

“I haven’t been a very good friend in
this
matter,” Tom muttered ruefully. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten him into deeper trouble than he’d have had without my interference.”

“Belay that, Tom,” Daniel ordered. “If it warn’t fer you, I’d be prisoned on the
Undaunted
like a slavey, with no hope of any life at all, and no way t’ get word to Betsy.”

“And it was only t’ help him that y’re in this fix at all,” Betsy added. “We’ll always be grateful to ye.”

“There’s no earthly reason for that,” Tom sighed, “for all the good my ‘help’ has done. But standing here talking won’t pay the piper. We’d better be on our way.”

“He’s right, Betsy, love.” Daniel got up from the bed reluctantly. “Laggin’ in the valley won’t get us over the hill.”

“No, I won’t have it,” Betsy declared firmly. “Ye can’t leave me behind, nor the baby neither. Besides, you’ll never get away dressed in seamen’s clothes and lookin’ all battered, like ye do.”

“But, Mrs. Hicks,” Tom said gently, “there’s nothing else to be done. We may even endanger
you
if we’re caught in your company.”

“My name is Betsy, if you please, and we’re not
goin
‘to be caught if we think of a good-enough plan. Y’re both too cold and miserable to see things straight. I’ll slip down t’ the kitchen an’ fetch some bread an’ cold meat—”

“Nay, lass,” Daniel cut in, although the prospect of food was painfully tempting, “someone might see ye.”

“No one will see me, I promise,” She wrapped a shawl around her and moved toward the door. “After ye’ve filled yer bellies, ye’ll be able to think better on what t’ do next.”

Betsy proved to be right. A tray of food and a few mugs full of home brew made the whole world seem brighter. And after they’d discarded their damp clothes, wrapped themselves in dry blankets and permitted Betsy to tend their bruises, it became difficult to see how they could get along without her. Finally, she pointed out that they would look less suspicious travelling about with a woman, and they agreed that, wherever they should decide to go, she would be with them.

With that decided, they turned their attention to the problem of their destination. It had to be a place far from any seaport where press-gangs were likely to be active, yet somewhere which would offer opportunities to find work. Betsy, her weariness forgotten in the anticipation of the start of a new life in the company of her husband, was full of suggestions. But each one was ruled out by the men for being either too optimistic or too impractical.

She paced the tiny room animatedly, while the two men sat huddled near the fire staring discouragedly into the flames. Although their spirits were too depressed to permit their minds to function,
her
brain seethed with fertile imaginings. She would not permit herself to succumb to discouragement. “I have it!” she clarioned excitedly for the sixth time. “The perfect plan at last!”

“Now, love, don’t carry on,” Daniel admonished with gentle hopelessness. “Ye’ve said that about
all
yer ideas.”