It was much longer before Justin slept.
Chapter 6
The earl rose first the following morning and quickly prepared a cold breakfast of bread and cheese. He appeared out of sorts and harried, his lips stretched into a thin line and his brow furrowed, so Merriana decided to say little and move as quickly as possible. It seemed like only minutes after she’d awakened before he was demanding they be on their way.
The morning air was cold and Merriana’s feet were sore. The boots the earl had purchased for her didn’t fit as well as she might have wished. Still, she refused to complain. She doubted he would have noticed even if she had complained, stomping along ahead of her as he was. Was he angry because she’d needed his warmth last night? And why had he behaved so strangely about kissing her the day before? What if his true intentions had been to encourage her to tell him about her past? Was the man still convinced she was a spy? If so, why did he sometimes look at her as though he wanted to be friends?
The earl walked steadily and silently, only occasionally glancing at Merriana, as though to assure himself that she was keeping up. She tried to ignore him as much as possible and to hide any distress she might be feeling due to the increasing cold, but she couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief when he announced that they were breaking to eat.
They ate quickly and silently. Merriana would have welcomed a longer rest, but as soon as they had repacked their diminishing supplies, the earl announced that they must get moving again. “I’m afraid rain is moving in,” he said, “and we will need to find a place to take cover tonight.”
Merriana nodded and pushed herself to her feet. She was tired to the bone, but she had no intention of complaining. After all, she reasoned, she could have stayed back in the fishing village in relative comfort and safety. Why had she insisted on coming? That was a question she pushed to the back of her mind, preferring not to consider why this man’s safety was important to her. The fact was that she had accompanied the earl by her own choice and would now have to make the best of it.
It was midafternoon when a cold drizzle began to fall. The earl stopped long enough to take a blanket out of his pack and wrap it around Merriana’s shoulders. “I can’t afford to have you getting sick,” he explained shortly when she thanked him. “Tell me, Mary, does anything look familiar to you yet? I’ve led us about as far as the old fisherman’s directions will take us, and I’ll have to start depending on you soon.”
Merriana shook her head. “I’ve traveled this country only on the highways, not in the woods and fields. If you can take me to a road, perhaps something will look familiar to me.”
The earl frowned. “You know I want to stay away from the roads. Still, if that’s the only way you can be of any benefit, I suppose I have no choice. There should be a road to our left and just over that rise. I heard the sound of horses while we were eating our lunch.”
Merriana marveled at his sharp hearing but said nothing. He sounded disgruntled about her inability to guide them through fields and woodland, and she didn’t want to risk upsetting him further by voicing her fears that even when he led her to a road, she might not immediately be able to tell where they were.
She breathed a silent prayer of thanks when they furtively stepped out into a road and she saw that they were a mere twenty feet from a crossroads boasting a signpost that contained the name of a village she knew. “We want to go that way,” she said, pointing to the route that led them straight ahead. “If I recall correctly, there’s a small farm about four miles up that road. Perhaps we’ll be allowed to sleep in the barn.”
“Do you know the people who live at this farm?” the earl inquired with a suspicious frown.
“No,” Merriana responded. “I have no idea who lives there. I merely remember that the house looked fairly prosperous for this area. Beyond is a stretch of woodland that contains no homes.”
“Very well, we’ll hope for shelter at that farm for tonight. In the meantime, we’ll stay on the road for a bit so we can make better time, but if you detect the sound of an approaching vehicle or a troop of horses, run a few feet from the road and lie down. The grayness of this afternoon’s weather should help conceal us in the weeds.”
Merriana nodded her head in agreement, but no need arose for her to follow the earl’s instructions. They met no one on the road and, as dusk was approaching, they neared the farm she’d mentioned.
“There’s the place I remember,” she said. “Perhaps you should allow me to do the talking. Your French is good but not as good as mine.”
The earl reluctantly agreed but reminded Merriana of the story they were to use.
“I remember,” she said shortly as they approached the house.
A woman answered the door, glared at them, and demanded to know their business.
Merriana quickly presented their story in a dialect that sounded much like that used by the woman. She then asked permission to sleep in the barn.
“For the day is quite damp, Madame,” she murmured in an ingratiating tone, “and we are cold and hungry. We are not penniless and would be pleased to pay you for some hot food.”
The woman stared at them sullenly, seeming to waver between fear of two strangers and a desire for their money.
“My food is good,” she announced finally, “and you will have to pay a fair price for it. I will bring it to you in the barn in a few minutes.”
Merriana quickly expressed their thanks and moved toward the barn.
“I hope it’s clean,” the earl muttered.
“The food or the barn?” Merriana asked.
“Both.”
The barn proved to be quite clean, and, although it smelled of animals, it was dry and fairly warm.
Merriana went to work at once, spreading clean hay for them to lay their blankets on. She had barely finished when the woman entered with a lamp and a tray. She hung the lamp on a nail and set the tray on a bin. “Now,” she said sternly, “I would like my money before you eat. I have decided the food is worth four sous.”
Justin pulled out his pouch, counted the money into her hand, and then stepped back.
“Your husband says little,” the woman commented to Merriana, glancing at Justin from the corner of her eye.
Merriana giggled. She risked a glance at the earl and saw his eyes widen with surprise. The woman, too, appeared surprised when Merriana placed her hand on the woman’s arm and turned her so that their backs were toward Justin. Then she confided in the woman in a whisper so loud it would carry quite clearly to Justin’s ears.
“My husband sulks, Madame,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “When our cottage burned, he wanted to stay and rebuild. But his cousin has a much larger farm and a fine house with two bedrooms, and he has no one to inherit when he dies. I ask you, does it not make more sense to go to the cousin and help him with his fine farm than to stay where we were and try to rebuild? But my husband does not like his cousin. He’s jealous, I believe. So when I insisted we go, he began to sulk. He has not spoken to me or slept with me in three days now.”
The woman laughed. “Men!” she exclaimed in a friendly tone. “They are all fools.”
“Mais oui, Madame,” Merriana agreed, giggling. “They cannot see beyond their own noses. But someday he will be happy I made him go. And long before that, he will begin to sleep with me again.”
Both women laughed and Justin turned his back to hide his smile. The wench was making him sound like a fool, but she was making a friend of the farm woman, an excellent move under the circumstances. If she liked Merriana, she would not be as likely to question their story.
As a matter of fact, the woman stayed to help Merriana uncover their food. She explained to Merriana that her own husband was in bed with a cold and she was having to wait on him. “Men are like babies when they are sick,” she said.
Merriana nodded knowingly. “They act like they will die from a case of sniffles,” she said.
Both women giggled again before the farm woman
left them to their meal.
As soon as she was out of hearing, Justin turned to Merriana with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Congratulations, ma petite. You have the woman eating out of your hand.”
“Hardly that,” Merriana objected, “but I do think she likes me now. I’m sorry I had to make you sound like a fool.”
“No matter,” he said, his smile fading. Then he muttered to himself, “Perhaps the label fits.”
It seemed, however, that Justin was correct in his conclusions about Merriana’s effect on the farm woman, for when she came to pick up their empty dishes, she brought extra blankets. “So you will be warm even though your husband does not lie with you,” she whispered to Merriana with a snigger.
Merriana thanked her profusely and then asked if they could buy breakfast before they started on their journey the following morning. The woman readily agreed and then left them for the night.
Merriana arranged their blankets on the hay so each had a comfortable sleeping space with several feet between them. Then she excused herself to step outside into the bushes. Over the past days she had gotten used to the fact that each of them had to have a few minutes alone from time to time to answer the call of nature. At first, she had blushed each time the subject was mentioned, but the earl’s matter-of-fact attitude soon helped her grow more comfortable with the situation.
When she came back inside, Justin appeared to be asleep so she lay down on her blanket, covered herself up, and drifted into sleep. She had no way of knowing that he had been faking sleep while very carefully counting the minutes while she was outside. Had she been gone too long, he would have checked to see if she had gone to the farmhouse to try to send a message to the French troops or to a colleague. He found himself trusting her less than ever after noting her ability to speak in a dialect of this district of France. Either the chit had a natural ear for languages, or else her training as an agent had been much more thorough than he had formerly guessed. If the latter was the case, he realized that he and his mission were in great danger.
Chapter 7
After a hot breakfast and a warm farewell from Merriana’s new friend the following morning, Justin hurried them on their way. Merriana, apparently feeling rested and cheerful, was humming the same song she’d sung in French on the night Justin discovered her in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock.
“We should be in Vilon by midafternoon,” she informed him with a smile.
Justin glared at her. His night had not been nearly as restful as hers and he was far from being in a good mood.
“I don’t want to arrive before dusk,” he said, “so we will just have to take a long break at noon.”
“Fine,” Merriana agreed in a pleasant tone, although the look she sent his way indicated she was probably wondering what was wrong with him now and why men were such unpredictable creatures.
The weather had improved significantly. The rain clouds had moved out and a much warmer breeze was blowing in from the south. They stayed on the road except for a couple of occasions when Justin heard a vehicle approaching. In both cases, it happened to be a farm cart, but they had concealed themselves in the brush alongside the road until all was clear. Then he insisted they sidetrack into a woodland on a hillside to eat their midday meal, a nice meat pie that their hostess of the night before had insisted on giving to Merriana as part of the food their three sous had purchased that morning.
“You’re feeling well today,” Justin commented, frowning at Merriana, who sat eating her meal. She had removed the shawl from her head and the sun was sparkling on the golden riot of curls that tumbled to her shoulders.
“Yes,” she agreed, smiling warmly. “Are you not?”
“I feel fine,” he muttered. “I might feel better, however, if you would quit humming that silly little song.”
“It’s not silly,” Merriana flared at him. “My grandmother made it up to teach her children colors, and I will have you know—”
“Quiet,” he whispered, then quickly motioned for her to lie down.
Merriana immediately flattened herself onto the ground, and in a few seconds the sound of several horses coming at a quick trot floated up from the road. Justin slithered on his stomach to the edge of the hillside and cautiously looked down onto the road. He then moved back and lay still until the horses could no longer be heard.
“French troops,” he announced.
“A patrol?” Merriana asked.
“Most likely, yes. We’d better stay away from the road from now on. Can you tell me enough about the geography of this area to allow me to pick out a cross-country route? Better still, could you draw me a map?” He used his hand to wipe a smooth surface in the dirt between them and then picked up a small stick and handed it to Merriana.
She took it from him and hesitantly began drawing the road below them. “This is where we are now,” she said, “and the road curves to the west about a mile from here. Then it straightens again, thusly, before intersecting with another, about here. To reach Vilon, we would need to take this turn to the east and travel about three miles. A track turns off here, leading a little southeast, about a mile and a half, and there is Vilon.” She marked the spot with an X.
Justin studied her drawing for a few seconds. “If you’re right, we should be able to avoid the road and at the same time save a few miles by going this way.” He pointed to the fields that lay down the opposite side of the hill.
Merriana studied the map herself for a couple of minutes. “It looks as though we could,” she agreed, “but I would soon lose my sense of direction traveling across the fields. Will you be able to guide us?”
“Close enough,” he said. “Surely, when we get near the village, you will see something you recognize.”
“I haven’t spent a lifetime in this area, you know,” she objected. “But there are several farms where we could stop and ask for directions.”
“I want to avoid that if at all possible. Still, since you seem to know the local dialect so well, it might be safe for you to ask for directions.” He appeared to be watching her closely as he spoke.
Merriana merely nodded her head. She had the impression that his statement about dialects was a test of sorts, but she couldn’t help it if her knowledge of the area caused him to distrust her even more. With a mental shrug, she asked, “Do you want to start soon? It is not so far now, but we should allow ourselves a little extra time in case we get lost.”
“We won’t get lost, Mary,” he stated flatly. “I seem to have a talent for finding my way in unknown territory, much as you seem to have a talent for languages.”
“Do you think I do?” she asked, smiling. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve never really thought about it before, but I can usually imitate the language of anyone around me.”
“Where did you learn to speak English?” The calmness in his tone didn’t quite mask his suspicions.
Merriana shrugged. Her association with the English language was not a topic she wished to pursue, and she decided to brush the question aside. “Does it really matter?” she asked as she started to pick up their dishes.
Suddenly her arms were grasped in a strong hold and her body was twirled so that she faced him. The fury in his eyes startled her. “Yes, my dear Mary,” he said. “It matters. It matters a great deal to me, and I intend for you to tell me. Oh, I realize it will be a lie, but that’s better than nothing. Now where did you learn to speak English?”
Merriana barely maintained her balance as he thrust her from him. She was not only shocked, but considerably frightened by the intensity of his anger. What had brought this on?
He took a step toward her and she backed up. “My mother was English,” she said quickly.
He stopped and stared at her for several seconds before nodding his acceptance of the veracity of her statement. Then he frowned. “Was?” he repeated. “Is your mother no longer living?”
Merriana shook her head. The earl’s sudden anger appeared to be dissipating, but she
was still frightened and had to struggle to keep her voice from trembling. “She died when I was a child. We lived in this area. My father was chef at the estate of the Comte de Mérchan. After my mother died, my father and I moved to Paris, where my father cooked at an inn. I grew up hearing the speech of travelers from all over the world. I think that’s part of the reason I tend to be able to imitate speech patterns so easily.”
He continued to stare at her. “Earlier you mentioned an enemy and having to flee from France. How does this work into your story?”
“The enemy was my father’s, and truthfully, I don’t know who he is or why he hated my father. This enemy tried twice to kill him. My father feared for my life, too, if I remained in France. That is why he sent me to England to find my mother’s brother in London.”
“And why did you not tell me this in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock?”
“I tried to tell you, but you said I lied.”
“And did you not?”
Merriana blushed. “About one thing, yes.”
“Which was?” he persisted.
“I said that my father was a chef. That is not technically true. The man who raised me and was like a father to me is a chef and it was from him that I learned to cook. But he is not really my father. He agreed to raise me at my mother’s request when I was about four years old.”
“And who was your father?”
Merriana’s blush deepened and she dropped her gaze. “I could not say, my lord.” When she glanced back into his eyes, she realized they had narrowed in concentration. Was he reaching the conclusion that she was illegitimate? She suspected so, for he immediately shrugged and changed the subject.
“You say you were trying to reach an uncle in London?”
Merriana nodded.
“Do you have an address for him?”
“Yes, my mother left his address with my adoptive father before she died.”
“But you said your mother died when you were a child. Do you know that your uncle is still at that address or even that he still lives?”
The Mysterious Merriana Page 6