by Paula Mabbel
Peter walked down the wet stone sidewalk quickly. The wind was sharp as it slapped against his cheeks and the rain was icy in its touch. Peter shivered. He missed the warm weather of the South and drier skies it so often shared. He walked a little further and then stopped. The street he'd been walking down looked the same as the one before and he was starting to lose his bearings.
“Are you new to London?” A woman in a thick, black shawl asked.
Peter watched her warily as she walked out from the shadows she had been hiding from. She looked aged beyond her years with beady eyes and a slight hook to her nose.
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve been here.” Peter said stiffly, as he peered down the street to see whether that should be the way to go or not.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.” The old woman crooned as she stepped closer to Peter.
“As I said, it’s been some time.” Peter replied. “Do you know the way to the travelers’ inn?”
“I sure do, sweetheart.” The woman said quickly.
“Would you mind sharing that knowledge with me?” Peter asked a little irritably when it became apparent that she needed some prompting. “It is quite cold.” He added in the hopes that she might quicken her wits.
“I’d only be too happy to share it with you.” The woman said with a broad and almost toothless grin. “It’ll cost you though.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Peter said outraged by the woman’s cheek.
“Then you keep looking dear.” The woman said and she quickly turned around. “It makes no difference to me.”
“Fine.” Peter said quickly because the wind had seemed to pick up in the time they had spent talking.
“It’s at the bottom of this street and to your left.” The woman said and then she held her hand out.
Peter put his own hand in his pocket and felt around with numb fingers. The sound of rattling change alerted him to his finding and he pulled his hand back out.
“Here.” He said without thanking the woman.
“That’s very generous.” The woman said with a small nod and then she walked back into the shadows from which she had come.
Peter wasted no time in setting back off and found himself approaching the inn quickly. He stopped at the door and checked the sign that hung overhead. It was lit by a small candle that had a shade of glass protecting it from the harsh weather. He smiled when he realized that he was in the right place. He pushed open the door quickly and scurried in.
His arrival was met by a round of cheers from those who were already inside. Peter smiled at no-one in particular as he made his way over to the bar.
“Here you are.” His friend George said loudly. “You’re late.”
“All these streets look the same.” Peter said with a shrug, and then he caught the barmaid’s eye.
He watched as her tenacious red hair bounced with every footstep she took towards him. She had a curvy frame that was being outlined by the dark brown, leather corset that she wore around her waist and over the dirty cotton blouse she was wearing.
“What can I get you?” She asked when she stopped in front of Peter.
“What do you have?” Peter asked as he peered over her and onto the shelves of liquor.
“Whatever it is you’re wanting.” The girl said with a seductive smile.
Peter took a moment to really look at her. She had the potential to be pretty. He could see that in her fair skin and small ski jump nose, but she was too rough. She had frizz to her hair and dirt under her nails and there was nothing that turned Peter off more.
“Oh, I’m sure.” Peter said with a snide twist.
He noticed her eyes open a little wider at the insult. and the leaf green color of her eyes caught his attention. He regretted his comment, but he knew that it was too late to try and save face now.
“Should I give you a minute?” The girl asked and then looked at the other people who were waiting to be served.
“I’ll just have a whisky.” Peter said and then he turned back to George.
“Do these girls not bathe?” He asked as he leaned in so that George could hear him.
“Perhaps they do and this is just what poverty looks like.” George said.
Peter could always rely on George to be somewhat of a moral compass. George had a wise mind and a good heart, and Peter had always liked keeping him around.
“Perhaps, so.” Peter said thoughtfully.
The sound of a glass hitting the bar turned his attention back to the pursuit of getting a drink. He scanned the bar for the girl who had served him, but he couldn’t see her, so he took his drink and went to find a place to sit.
The bar was full with the buzz of lively conversation and Peter sat back enjoying the sight of his men being so merry. They had just come back from a small uprising in America and they were all happy to be home.
“It seems wrong to celebrate murder.” The barmaid said as she picked up the dirty glasses from his table and put them on a tray.
“They’re celebrating freedom.” Peter said with a curt look. “Do they not teach you anything on the streets?”
“I’m sorry Sir, but I see no connection between murder and freedom.” She said with a serious look on her face.
“Well then, perhaps that is why you are cleaning tables and I’m the Duke of London.” Peter said and then he turned his attention away from the girl who had clearly never taken to being a civilized member of society.
******
Peter walked into his home and looked around. It had been five years since he had walked through those doors, and he realized almost instantly that he hadn’t missed it. The air felt heavy with dust, and as he walked through the silent rooms he wondered whether he should sell the place and move over to the South full time.
A knock from the door rang through the silence and brought Peter’s attention back to reality. A reality he wasn't very content with at the moment, but one he was forced to live in. He walked quickly back through the house and arrived at the front door in good time. He opened it quickly and peered out into the blustery night.
“Friend.” George said. He waited for no invitation to walk in, but simply made his way passed his friend and into the large greeting room that the doors led on to.
“Is everything okay?” Peter asked.
He was surprised to see his friend so late in the evening. He had thought that George and the rest of the boys had taken to a hotel for the night.
“It’s quite alright.” George said with a reaffirming smile. “The hotel overbooked and I hoped you might lend me a room and a bed for the night.”
“Of course.” Peter said without hesitation.
He didn’t mention it to George, but he was glad to have some company. They walked through the long hallway and into the kitchen which was being kept warm by the fire that roared in the corner.
“Do you feel like supper?” Peter asked.
“I could eat.” George nodded.
Peter pulled a string that was attached to a small bell and waited for someone to respond.
“Can I help you, Sir?” A chubby woman in a pinafore asked.
“My friend and I are hungry.” Peter said. “I was hoping you might prepare some supper.”
“That won’t be a problem Sir.” The maid said quickly. “Where would you like to take Supper?” She asked.
“We’ll take it in the study.” Peter said after a moment of thought. “Please ensure the room is properly warmed through.”
It didn’t take long for a fire to be animated in the study and then for the supper to be brought in.
“You’ve got some fine staff here.” George said as his eyes hungrily took in the selection of cold meats and fruit.
“I should hope that you don’t judge your own staff on what they keep in the pantry?” Peter said with a slight surprised look on his face.
“And why is that?” George said with a chuckle.
“You’ll find that the Master of
the house stocks the pantry, the staff simply keeps it.” Peter said, as though that was obvious.
“You really do think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?” George said, but it was in a non-judgmental way.
“I think that I’ve earned my place and that I have every right to.” Peter said stiffly.
“Quite.” George said with a playful smile. “I saw you talking to that barmaid this evening.” He mentioned as he took a mouthful of the food he had put on his plate.
“She collected some glasses from the table.” Peter said with a slight shrug.
“She seemed to stay longer than just for glasses.” George pushed for detail.
“Yes, she was insulting the entire British army.” Peter said coldly.
“I highly doubt that.” George said, because he sure that his friend was overreacting.
“She compared us all to murderers.” Peter said simply and then slowly chewed on a mouthful of ham and bread.
“Did she now?” George said with another chuckle. “She has fire that one and I don’t just mean in her hair.”
It was Peter’s turn to chuckle.
“She has a lack of manners that would be better suited for the street.” Peter said when his sensible head had returned.
“Perhaps she comes from the street?” George said.
“Perhaps then she should have remained there.” Peter countered.
George examined his friend for a moment. He had known Peter for many years and although many couldn’t see it, he knew that there was good in his heart.
“Perhaps, but you have to admire the resilience.” George argued.
“Resilience over what?” Peter asked curiously.
“Well, if this girl did come from the streets, then she had done what many simply cannot.” George said.
“Which is?” Peter asked again, still curious as to the point that his friend was making.
“She had gone out and got herself a job.” George said.
Peter didn’t say anything for a moment as he thought about his friend’s point of view. He was right. The girl might have come from the streets, but at least she was working and not asking for money with her hand out.
“I suppose you make a point.” Peter said.
“She’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t she?” George said with a grin.
“And what do you mean by that?” Peter asked with enough denial in his voice to sink an army.
“Well, it’s been a long time since you’ve hated someone with the haste you have the redhead.” George said.
“And why do you suppose that means?” Peter asked with annoyance.
“I think that means that perhaps, your hate is a disguise for something else.” George said with a wicked glimmer in his eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Peter said curtly. “I think you’ll find my taste much more refined that a common barmaid.”
“But you admit it yourself there wasn’t anything normal about the girl.” George pushed his point.
“And you suppose that is good?” Peter said shaking his head. “George my friend you have a good heart and a wise mind, but I think that the lack of sleep you are suffering from has disabled both.”
“Is that what you suppose Peter?” George said with a shake of his head.
“I do.” Peter said with a nod.
“Then I should surely go and rest my head, before any more damage is done.” George said with some laughter and then he waited for directions to his room.
******
Peter walked into the busy little café and sat down. His head was pounding from the drinks that he’d had the night before and he was desperate for a decent cup of coffee. He looked at the small menu that was placed in the middle of the table.
It had fancy handwritten letters that made up the food and drinks that they had to offer.
“How’s your head?” A familiar voice asked from behind him.
“Oh, it’s you.” He said with a frown as he turned around to see who it was.
“Well, my friends call me Tilly.” She said lightly. “But oh, it’s you, will do.”
“That’s very funny.” Peter said.
“Thanks.” She said with a smile that revealed her slightly crooked teeth.
Peter found himself smiling back but then quickly stopped it. He looked at her for a moment. Her hair was just as fiery red as it had been the night before and her green eyes sparkled as she waited for him to make his order.
“So, what can I get you?” She asked when Peter’s eyes had been on her for a moment too long.
“I just want a coffee.” Peter said.
“Are you sure?” Tilly asked. “They do a great English breakfast here that cures hangovers in a blink of an eye.”
“Is that so?” Peter asked with his eyebrow arched.
“It is.” She said with a bright smile.
“Well, then I suppose you had better bring me one of those too.” He said.
“Coming right up.” She said cheerfully and then she turned and walked away.
Peter watched her as she made her way to the back of the room where he supposed the kitchen was. She pushed open a swinging door and disappeared behind it. He looked around the café at the other people who had chosen to eat their breakfasts there.
The place was full of happy faces and the buzz of conversation and it kept Peter’s attention until his food arrived.
“You’ll love it.” Tilly said as she slid the plate of hot food over to him.
“Would you sit a moment?” Peter asked and then gestured to the free chair at the table.
“I’m working.” Tilly said with a shake of her head.
“I promise I won’t keep you long.” Peter insisted.
“My boss won’t like it.” Tilly said and shook her head again.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who would care about such a trivial matter.” Peter said a little curtly.
“Well, I can assure you that I am.” Tilly said and her cheeks starting to blush with pink. “I need this job and I can’t afford to lose it just because some Duke wishes to speak with me.”
Peter didn’t say anything for a moment. He was surprised by the offense that was playing across Tilly’s face. He wasn’t sure what he had said to warrant it, but he wanted to find out.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.” He said quickly before she had a chance to walk away.
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Tilly said, but not in a forgiving way.
“I’ll speak to your boss should he have a problem.” Peter said and then he gestured to the seat again.
Tilly looked at it and then back to Peter.
“What could you possibly have to ask me about?” She asked him.
“Well, if you sit down then you’ll find out.” Peter said with a slight smile.
Tilly hovered over the chair for a moment and then decided to sit down. She waited for him to speak.
“Do you work in both the inn and the café?” Peter asked after a moment.
“Yes.” Tilly said and then she added. “As well as the mill on the weekends.”
“Why?” Peter asked her, a little surprised.
“For the same reason that every person works.” Tilly said as though the reason was obvious.
“Doesn’t it tire you out?” Peter asked because he understood her reasons.
“Should I sit out and beg because I feel tired sometimes?” Tilly countered quickly.
“I suppose not.” Peter said and then he took a second to recollect his thoughts. “So, you work every day?” He asked.
Tilly nodded. “Did you think that I took it easy?” She asked with almost a snort.
“I’m not sure what I thought.” Peter said.
“If you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to work.” Tilly said and then she looked behind her at the tables of dirty plates that were waiting to be collected.
“Might I ask you just one more thing?” Peter said as he watched her stand up.
“You j
ust did.” Tilly said with a cheeky smile.
“Well, yes.” Peter said a little caught off guard by her quick wit. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Why?” Tilly asked with a confused face that was full of honest misunderstanding.
“You intrigue me.” Peter said.
“I’d like to have dinner with you very much.” Tilly said after a moment.
“I’ll have someone pick you up at eight.” Peter said and then he watched Tilly walk back into the mass of chores she was yet to finish.
He finished his breakfast quietly and then walked out of the café. She had been right. The food had helped to conquer the pain in his head and the sunlight no longer hurt his eyes.
She was in his thoughts though. She had been since she had walked up to him in the bar the night before, but now it was more than a simple annoyance. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite understand. It was like she was scratching at his curiosity, but he couldn’t quite reach the itch.
He walked back to his manner and thought about what he might say at the meal the next night. He was still unsure about why he had asked her. He knew that no good could come from his undeniable attraction to her, but still the urge to see her was too great, and he found himself for the first time in his life, a weak man.
******
The restaurant was busier than he had expected, and he could feel himself growing anxious over Tilly’s arrival. He had picked one of his favorite restaurants in town, but now that he was sitting in the fancy room surrounded by wealthy people, he wasn’t so sure that he’d made the right choice.
He thought about Tilly and what she might think. He hoped that she’d picked out something nice to wear. He hated the thought of people looking down on her because she couldn’t afford to wear silk out to dinner.
He could hear his fingers drumming against the surface of the table and he pulled his hand away. His eyes hadn’t moved from the door since he had arrived. He could feel his heart racing in anticipation and his brain scolding himself for being so drunk with folly.
The door opened and he saw the bright red curls that could only introduce one person. He stood and waited for her to walk over. She looked beautiful. She looked better than any of the other girls in the room. Peter’s worry had been about nothing, and he kissed her hand gently when she stopped at their table.