“You probably would, too, if you weren’t such a squatty thing,” he shot back and quickly closed the door behind him as Mathilda aimed a coat hanger at his head. It struck the door and clattered harmlessly to the floor.
Brett’s smile made him look indescribably handsome. Even though she told herself she didn’t like or trust him and couldn’t wait to be well beyond his reach, she couldn’t repress the wistful desire to have him smile at her like that, at least once. She had always been attracted to him, even when he made her most angry, but now his smile made him seem human, almost friendly. Kate desperately wanted a friend, and she had the feeling that Brett could fill that position.
“Mercy on my soul, that man’s a treat,” Mathilda said, laughing happily. “He’s slippery as an eel and clever as an old cat, but for all that, he’s as good as they come. Now what can I do for you, child? I know you don’t have your maid with you so I’m going to tend to you myself.”
“I don’t need anything, really,” Kate mumbled in a very small voice “I never had a maid at home so I’m used to taking care of myself. There must be hundreds of things you need to do.”
Mathilda smiled indulgently. “It’s nothing my girls can’t do by themselves, the silly giggling things. They’d roast a sausage on a spit if you didn’t tell them different, but it’ll do them good to have to manage alone.” She moved briskly around the room, straightening the bureau and dresser tops behind Brett and tugging the chair cover back into its original position.
Kate stayed in the bed, clutching the covers tightly about her shoulders and trying to keep from shaking all over. She resolutely told herself she’d never be able to take care of herself if she couldn’t keep her wits about her at times like this.
Mathilda set a match to the fire. “It’s cold as a witch’s breath this morning. I don’t know why Mr. Westbrook never thought to light the fire, but this’ll have the room toasty warm in a few minutes. You stay under those covers. There’s no hurry to get up so you might as well stay in bed.” She fluffed up two of the pillows and looked around the room. Everything seemed to be to her satisfaction, for she moved to the door. “I’ll be bringing your breakfast up to you in about an hour. Is there anything you need before then?”
“I’d really like a cup of cocoa, if it’s not too much trouble,” Kate requested in an apologetic voice.
“None at all. I’ll bring it up right away.”
“And there’s something else, too.” Kate blushed fiery red. She tried to force her tongue to say the words, but they wouldn’t come. Desperation gave her courage and loosened her tongue. “I need some new b-b-bedclothes.” She turned redder still. “You see, it was my t-time of the m-m-month, and I’m afraid I b-b-bled on them. I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to ruin your lovely bed.” Tears began to form on the tips of her eyelashes. “I’ll wash them out for you.”
Under her bossy exterior, Mathilda was a sentimental romantic, and the sight of tears in that exquisite girl’s eyes melted her heart like butter on a griddle. “Don’t worry, miss. A little blood won’t worry me. And you won’t be washing any sheets yourself neither. I’ll throw them in the bottom of the pot and nobody’ll be the wiser. Now you dry your eyes.” She looked Kate full in the face. “With a face like yours, there’s nothing in this world you can’t have, so there’s no call to be crying about something so silly.”
Kate resisted a strong desire to throw herself on this huge, comforting woman and sob her heart out. Instead, she forced herself to smile and thank her for her compliments.
Mathilda brushed her thanks aside and waddled out to get the clean linens; -she was back within minutes. “You put the old ones next to the door and I’ll take them down when I bring up your breakfast.” Her face softened into a motherly smile. “You have a nice morning in bed. I’ll see that nobody bothers you.” She went out and locked the door behind her.
Kate scrambled out of bed as soon as the door was shut; there was no sign now of fear or indecision. She searched her valise until she found a handkerchief. She dampened it in the bowl and carefully cleaned the blood from her thighs. She determinedly refused to think about how it got there. She just couldn’t face that yet. When she finished, she threw the soiled cloth into the hottest part of the fire and kept moving it around with the poker until every bit of it had been turned to ashes.
Then she put on a fresh nightgown, and packed the old one away. Though she didn’t see any blood on it, it reminded her of the night before. She quickly stripped the bed, being very careful to fold up the bloodied sheet inside the unstained one, put them both by the door, and made up the bed with the fresh sheets. Then she fluffed the pillows and climbed back into bed. Now she could relax.
She lay there for a long time, thinking of everything that had happened to her since Martin had dragged her into the middle of his card game, and she was surprised at how many instances of Brett’s kindness she could remember. It didn’t do anything to alter the horror of the previous night, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to meet him under different circumstances. She was soon lost in a daydream of what might-have-been and was only shaken out of her trance by the sound of the key in the lock announcing the arrival of breakfast. Kate started to get up.
“You’re going to have your breakfast in bed this morning,” Mathilda announced. “I’m right sorry about your hot cocoa, but it went clean out of my head. I don’t want you to think I’m like this all the time, forgetting orders and things, but I guess I got things on my mind I don’t know about.” She placed the tray on Kate’s lap, and the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed her. Suddenly Kate was enormously hungry, and the plate loaded with eggs, ham, sausage, bread and butter, and jam didn’t seem like too much at all.
Mathilda watched her eat with satisfaction. “I’d have brought you more, but I was afraid a skinny little thing like you wasn’t used to eating more than a bite.” Kate didn’t answer because her mouth was full. Mathilda smiled broadly. “You eat it all up. It’ll put some flesh on those bones. You look like a starved wren. I’ve a mind to keep you here with me until I get you fattened up a bit.”
Kate gulped down some coffee. “I’d grow out of my clothes in a week’s time.”
“You can always get more clothes.” Mathilda picked up the sheets. “Ill be up to get the tray after a while. Lunch will be about twelve-thirty. Leastways it will if I can get those London gentlemen out of the house before then.” Poor little thing, Mathilda thought as she closed the door behind her, she’s been through some sadness in her life. And her prettier than any picture you ever saw. She sighed heavily and turned her mind to the more mundane business of the inn.
Chapter 7
Ten o’clock came and went and Brett still had not returned. Kate had finished her breakfast, repacked her valise, and put the room in such complete order that there was nothing to show it had been occupied.
Though the room was airy and bright with sunlight streaming in both windows, her lengthy confinement had become increasingly intolerable; her thoughts depressed her even further. She had never meant to become dependent on Brett, and after last night it was even more unthinkable she should do so, but no sooner had she reached the decision to never see him again then she was forced to admit the utter hopelessness of her situation. She had no fortune, no means of earning a living, and no one to turn to. She knew nothing of her father’s family except that he had a younger brother, the trustee of their father’s estate, whom Martin had cursed almost daily. Surely a man of his wealth, with a wife and servants to see to the running of his establishment, would not find it difficult to add one more person to his household. The more she thought about it, the more hopeful she became, and she sat down to think.
She couldn’t remember where he lived, but she knew it was one of the fashionable streets in London because Martin had sneered that such a pinchpenny should live anywhere but among the bankers and merchants. She cudgeled her brains. Where would a member of her family live?
But she didn’t know anything about London—or her uncle.
Was he like Martin and her father? Would he have a genuine sympathy for her, or would he consider her a poor relation to be kept out of sight when guests were present? Regents Square! That was the street. She didn’t know the number, but that would be easy enough to find once she reached London. All that mattered now was she had a refuge from Brett’s charity and his lusts.
But she had to have money. She was sure the stage or the mail coach passed through the village, but how was she going to pay for her passage, food, and lodging until she could find her uncle? It was unthinkable that she should ask Brett to lend her money so she could run away from him. He probably wouldn’t give it to her anyway, but every feeling revolted at the thought of being under further obligation to him in any case. Maybe she could ask Mathilda. She hated to return her kindness in such a manner, but she couldn’t think of anyone else. If only Mr. Hunglesby or Mr. Feathers had been here, they would have helped her. Her valise!
“Brett left his winnings on the table, so I slipped them into your valise,” Feathers had whispered in her ear as she kissed him good-bye. “Brett doesn’t want the money, and Martin doesn’t deserve it. Besides, he meant you to have it anyway.”
Kate hesitated only a moment; even though he might have intended to do so, Brett had never actually given her the money. She would worry about that later. Either her uncle would pay it back or she could save it from her wages once she had a position, but somehow she would pay back every penny.
Next she had to settle on a course of action. She rejected the idea of hiring a private post chaise; it would be expensive and too conspicuous, and she doubted she could find one, or the post boys to drive it, in Littledean. Her only choice lay between the regular stage and the mail coach. Never having traveled on either, it was impossible to know which was better. Neither did she know when they ran, how to purchase a ticket, or where they picked up their passengers. Would Mathilda help her? She was sure Mathilda liked her, but she was also certain that in spite of the cheerful abuse she heaped on her husband, Mathilda firmly believed in the superiority of men, especially, a man like Brett. She would have to be very careful. She wouldn’t put it past Mathilda to tell Brett of her plans.
She settled down to await Mathilda’s return. She was almost an hour late already. Surely she wouldn’t be much longer.
“Lordy,” Mathilda exclaimed as she came puffing into the room after what seemed like an interminable wait, “has this ever been a morning. Gentlemen as thick as flies on a carcass shouting like heathens, and every one of them wanting his breakfast at once, and half of them too hung over to know what they were served. You never heard such a racket, what with them all shouting at the same time, trying to get the boys to fetch up their curricles, or whatever they call those murderous contraptions they drive. And they call themselves Quality. Humph!” she snorted.
She looked around at the neat room and her eyes narrowed in surprised disapproval. “Well, I never,” she exclaimed. “If more people left their rooms like you do, miss, running this inn would be a pleasure. But you had no call to do all this yourself. It’s not proper for a lady.”
“I wish I could do more,” Kate countered with a grateful smile. “You’ve treated me better than my own mother, spoiling me with breakfast in bed and not getting upset when I took your bed and then ruined it. I’ll never be able to repay your kindness.” Her eyes were moist with emotion.
Mathilda sniffed and began rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “Lawks, miss, you’ll have me blushing and trembling like those silly gals in the kitchen if you keep talking that way. It wasn’t much and I don’t grudge it. You’re too pretty to be cleaning rooms.”
Kate laughed. “I never heard that pretty people made any less mess than ugly ones. Quite the opposite, I would imagine.” Suddenly her mood sobered. “Mathilda, Mr. Westbrook promised my brother he would take me to London, but he has to be in France in a few days.” She tried to avoid Mathilda’s shrewd eyes. “It, uh … may be necessary for me to continue my journey alone.” Kate kept twisting her handkerchief into knots, a move not lost on Mathilda. “Does the mail or the stage run through Littledean? How would I get a ticket, if I should need one?” she added hastily.
“I don’t know your situation, miss,” Mathilda said in a measured voice, “and I’m not asking you to tell me anything you don’t want to, but you’ve got no call to take passage on the mail, much less that nasty stage. If Mr. Westbrook wants you to go to London, he’ll take you himself or see you’re sent proper in a post chaise with outriders. Mr. Westbrook gets a trifle preoccupied with his own doings sometimes, but I’ve never known him not to do the proper thing. Now you stop worrying and let him take care of everything. What else do we put up with men for?”
“But I don’t want to depend on him.” Kate almost stamped her foot. “You see,” she said, wringing her handkerchief again, “my brother virtually forced him to agree to escort me. He really didn’t want to. Besides,” she said, brightening with an idea, “I could hire one of the girls from the inn to go with me. That ought to make it perfectly respectable.”
“That would make a difference,” Mathilda admitted, “but I still don’t like it. Those silly things wouldn’t be any use to you except to act half-witted.”
“I don’t know that I shall need them in the end,” Kate said as nonchalantly as she could, “but it would be nice to know I shouldn’t be stranded here. It could be months before he returns.”
“You can stay here until he comes back,” exclaimed Mathilda, her face wreathed in a smile. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Then you’d have plenty of time to decide what to do.” Kate tried to protest, but Mathilda had the bit between her teeth.
“You see, I don’t have any children. It’s just me and Michael here, and I’d love to have a pretty young thing like you to fuss over. You could stay here, quiet like, and not a bit of harm would come to you. We hardly ever have this much business. You’d be free to come and do just as you please.” Delighted with her plan, Mathilda picked up the tray and headed for the door. “I’ll talk to Mr. Westbrook as soon as he gets back.”
Kate threw herself between Mathilda and the door. “You must tell me where I can buy a ticket,” she pleaded. “I promise I won’t do anything you or Mr. Westbrook won’t like, but I can’t just sit here and wait for him to make every decision for me.”
Mathilda gave her a knowing look. “There’s something you’re not saying, but I’ll tell you if you promise you won’t do anything without talking it over with Mr. Westbrook first.”
Kate nodded her agreement; she had lied so many times already, there was no reason to blink at one more.
“Not that it will do you any good because no self-respecting girl would even go near the Black Crow,” Mathilda said, a look of stern disapproval on her face. “It’s a low, dirty place on the other side of the village. They ought to change the route, but that’s men all over for you. The stage is no better. It’s just as likely to pick you up in front of the vicarage as on the lane leading to town, but it’s a nasty contraption, filled with chickens and old men and smelling worse than a cow byre. You couldn’t travel from here to Broxmore without getting sick to your stomach. But I’m going to talk Mr. Westbrook into letting you stay with me. Now move out of my way, young lady. I have more important things to do than stand around arguing with you over the mail coach.” But she smiled broadly as she left, and Kate felt sure she entertained no suspicion Kate meant to be gone from the inn before noon.
Accepting the fact that no one was going to help her escape, Kate emptied both valises on the bed the minute the door closed behind Mathilda and started repacking them. She couldn’t possibly carry both, not even just across the lawn, so she put everything she didn’t expect to need during the next few days into the large valise. Surely Mathilda would keep it for her until she could send for it.
She unwrapped Feathers’s handkerchief; besides the mon
ey, it contained Martin’s tie pin and ring as well as a few other personal items. She put the coins and notes into her purse and hastily put everything else back into the valise. She brushed aside the unpleasant feeling of being a thief; she couldn’t afford the luxury of guilt now.
Kate dragged the larger valise to the corner and looked around the room, but she could find nothing else that needed attending to. With a fatalistic sigh, she set her small valise by the door and put on the heavy blue cloak, taking great care to pull the hood far down over her face. If she was careful not to look up, maybe no one would remember her. She opened the door and peeped out into the hall; the only sounds came from the kitchen below. She resisted the impulse to wait; if she was ever going to escape, she had to do it now. She plucked up her courage, picked up the valise, and stepped out into the hall.
The narrow passage ran along the back of the inn for its full length. Several doors opened onto it from one side while large windows overlooked the lawn behind the house on the other. The grounds included an orchard and an extensive garden. Kate knew the stables and kitchens were somewhere to the left, but all she could see to her right were the spreading limbs of several large yews. She strained her ears, but no sound disturbed the morning quiet. If she could just get to that side of the inn, maybe she could get to the lane without being seen.
Turning the corner, Kate came face-to-face with three doors; she had no idea where any of them led. The first door was locked; the second was also, but the faint sound of voices could be heard coming from behind the third. She paused, unsure of whether to proceed or turn back, but she had to go somewhere, and she couldn’t wait around hoping everyone would leave the inn. To her relief the door was unlocked. She opened it carefully and found herself at the head of a narrow stair.
Kate made her way down very slowly, one step at a time, listening for voices or anyone coming along the hall behind her. When she reached the ground floor, she found the hall ran back along the rear of the house just like the upper hall.
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