The thought of how pleasant the journey would be tempted him greatly; but Charles knew what was due to the proprieties, and to Louisa's consequence, so his good sense eventually won out. He resigned himself to a frustrating two days, with the promise of another blistering headache at their end.
Finally, Miss Wadsdale and her baggage were loaded aboard, but as the result of so much delay, Charles found they could not hope to leave the inn before noon. Once in Snaithby, they would be obliged to load Louisa's baggage, which might take some time, now that all available space had been appropriated. But it could not be helped. Charles spent a few moments marshalling the reasons he would use later for not breaking their journey too often.
On the way back to the village, he had a solitary preview of the hours ahead of him. Miss Wadsdale took immediate exception to Eliza. And, although she did not demand that the dog be expelled-Charles divined she had already come to blows with Ned on this issue and lost-she did treat Charles to her opinion that it was against basic Christian precepts to treat “beasts” as if they were humans.
Charles listened politely, suppressing a growl. He only hoped Louisa would contrive to charm this woman and shield him from the worst of her character. Upon reflection, he thought that she just might manage it.
Still, in spite of this more hopeful outlook, he arrived back at the inn in an almost desperate state.
It did not help his humour to discover that the private parlour was empty and that neither Louisa nor the Spadgers were anywhere in sight. Charles ushered Miss Wadsdale into the hallway, for it was not to be hoped that she would wait outside in the carriage for them. As soon as they entered they were welcomed by a hideous cacophony issuing from the direction of the kitchen.
Charles called for Sammy repeatedly, but to no avail. Understanding that his voice could not be heard over the noise, he determined to go in search of anyone who could explain Louisa's absence, at the same time dreading to find that she was the cause of the hubbub. In vain, he tried to dissuade Miss Wadsdale from following him, but she refused to be left alone in a house which, she said, echoed with the very cries of Bedlam.
A shrill wail greeted them as they passed the threshold to the kitchen-a noise Charles might have mistaken for a cat in the throes of love if he had not seen its instrument. A small boy struggled to escape from a brimming tub of water, in which, it appeared, a drenched Jim Spadger and an equally soaked Louisa were trying to drown him. Sammy stood close at hand with buckets of more water and, even as they entered, poured a fresh one over the boy's head to renewed cries. Nan tried helplessly to cope with the puddles of water and mud on her floor.
“Louisa!” Charles called, his temper flying to the surface at the sight of her on her knees in a pool of sudsy water. “What in heaven's name-?"
Behind him Miss Wadsdale shrieked, “God in Heaven! Oh, I never...! And to think... !"
As her outcries pierced the level of noise already prevailing in the room, Nan and Sammy turned around. Their dismay upon seeing both his lordship and the companion of their local doyenne showed in the roundness of their eyes.
Mrs. Spadger curtsied, albeit with a sopping mop in her hand. Sammy put the bucket down before he bowed.
“Yor lordship—Tha mus'na think-"
Charles ignored Sammy's protests. The sight of Louisa's back still turned to him aroused his deepest ire.
He strode to the tub and grasped the boy's chin in one hand, even as Louisa first perceived him.
Her happy cry of “Charles!” he ignored as well, until he could plug the sound of this wailing. Mingled with the boy's sobs, he realized, had been efforts to calm him, both affectionate condolences from Louisa and promises of treats on Jim's part. Neither, he reasoned, would have any effect.
With the child's chin gripped firmly between his fingers, Charles forced his gaze up to meet his own and said, “If you do not stop this infernal caterwauling, I shall drown you myself. You will stop it now."
“Charles!” Louisa's shocked exclamation fell into a blessed silence. The boy's mouth hung open, but it made no further noise. With a quick pinch to show he meant what he said, Charles released the child and turned his full attention on Louisa.
“Perhaps you will have the goodness to tell me what it is you are doing?” he said with biting cordiality.
“I'm bathing Bob,” Louisa answered matter-of-factly. “But, Charles, do you think it charitable to threaten him so?"
“Charitable or not, it appears to have been effective. But that is beside the point! I can see you are bathing this child, though who he is, and why you should be doing something so outrageous, I cannot imagine!"
Louisa rose to her feet in front of him. Charles automatically put out a hand to help her, and found that his sleeve was made wet just by this slight contact. Her arms up to her elbow still had soap bubbles clinging to them. In deference to his clothes, she held them up and away.
She seemed oblivious to the fact that in spite of her apron, her gown was drenched and clung to her most improperly. Her red hair had been loosened from its ribbons and fell in dampened ringlets about her flushed face.
Charles tried not to stare at these signs of dishevelment, but a quick heat, caused by embarrassment-nothing more, he told himself-invaded him merely at the sight.
Louisa faced him calmly. “I was washing Bob because he's mine-in a manner of speaking-and I thought it would be wrong to ask the Spadgers to undertake the task alone."
“Good God!” Charles uttered, clapping a hand to his forehead.
“Oh, Lord preserve us...!"
Charles had forgotten Miss Wadsdale was behind him. But, at these words, he turned in time to see her swoon and barely managed to catch her before she reached the floor.
“Oh, marvellous!” he said, feeling helpless. “This was all that was needed! Louisa, help me here!"
At the sound of Louisa's name, Miss Wadsdale made a quick recovery. “I shall not be touched by that creature!” she shrieked, and struggled to free herself.
“That is pure nonsense!” Charles released her gladly. “This young lady is to be your charge, and you shall not address her in such a manner. Louisa, come make your curtsy to Miss Wadsdale."
Louisa smiled at him and curtsied obediently, suds and all. Then she said to Miss Wadsdale, “I am certain you were discomfited by this scene, but I assure you there is no reason. This child is to join us on our journey, and I was persuaded my cousin would wish him to have a bath first. Unfortunately, as you saw, he did not take kindly to the notion, but I daresay it was because it was his first and he shall grow accustomed to them over time."
She beamed at Bob now. Jim had extracted him from the bath and given him another slice of pie.
Charles's mouth had fallen open during her explanation, which still had done nothing to explain the presence of the boy. He could only assume Louisa had lost her senses.
He was about to deny what she had said when Miss Wadsdale burst forth with a loud invective. “My lord, I refuse to travel with such a hoyden! You brought me here-and against my better judgement-with the understanding that I was to tend your cousin, which, I see, was nothing but a ruse to get me to lend this person a measure of respectability! I refuse to be used in such a manner!"
Louisa's smile was wiped from her face. She turned pale, and Charles felt his temper flaring, but he controlled his tongue. “I assure you, Miss Wadsdale, that this young lady is indeed my cousin. If the circumstances seem a bit odd, I am certain she will explain them to my satisfaction. That is all that is required, after all. You are merely to bear her company-not lend her countenance!"
“A bit odd!” Charles's assurances had had no effect. “For a young lady to be employed in such a manner! And engaged in bathing a child she has said is her own-” Miss Wadsdale's sense of outrage increased with every passing moment. “-when it is plain to see the boy is quite common, certainly too common to ride in a coach with his betters!"
Louisa drew herself up. Charles's heart sank at the
sight of fury brightening her blue eyes, but at the same time, he thought she looked magnificent. “Cousin, I think the matter is quite settled!” She spoke with her teeth clenched. “No more than Miss Wadsdale do I intend to pass two days in a carriage with a person whose very presence offends me. And I find this woman most offensive! Anyone who would be so cruel to a mere child could not possibly be a fit companion for me!"
Charles emitted a groan to go along with Miss Wadsdale's cry of outrage.
“Mr. Spadger!” she commanded. “I insist that you take me back to Lady Conisbrough! When her ladyship hears the indignities to which I have been subjected...!” Miss Wadsdale turned on her heel and stormed from the room.
Sammy gave Charles a frightened glance, and then, with his permission wearily given, followed the woman in haste.
Charles knew he should try to stop her, but somehow the effort seemed too great. And the diplomat inside him suggested that she should be given time to cool down. He would let her go back to Lady Conisbrough, who he doubted would listen to her tale with any interest. Miss Wadsdale's baggage remained in his coach, and with any luck, he would be able to pursue her and re-engage her once this matter of the boy was settled.
Charles turned to find Louisa still standing in an irate pose. Jim Spadger was drying the boy with a large towel. Bob seemed fascinated by all he had witnessed and gaped at Charles with his mouth open. When Charles met his stare, however, he closed it and shrank back, closer to Jim.
“Dear Charles,” Louisa said in gentle reproof, “I'm afraid you have frightened the boy, which will make it harder for him to accept the carriage ride. He is afraid of horses, you see, and I had hoped to overcome his mistaken notions, but now I fear that will be more difficult. Perhaps you should wait for us in the parlour and I will try to mend the breach."
Mindful of the witnesses in the room-Nan still eyeing him with dismay; Jim with something more akin to wariness, as if daring him to harm Louisa-Charles expelled a sigh and bowed to her.
“I think you and I should both retire to the parlour,” he said. “I am sure Mrs. Spadger and her son can cope with the boy for the moment."
Louisa showed no signs of alarm, but turned to verify this. Nan Spadger nodded.
“I shall be happy to converse with you, Cousin, but if you please, I think I should like to change my garments directly. I fear a chill."
And, indeed, Charles saw at once that Louisa's arms were covered in goose-flesh. His gaze roved up her sleeve, at which point the goose bumps vanished to reappear quite decidedly through the bodice of her gown.
“Certainly,” Charles said with difficulty. “You have my permission, but I beg you not to tarry. We had a journey to accomplish today, if you recollect."
Louisa coloured at this reminder of her promise to behave. Then she curtsied and hurried from the room.
Charles strode to the parlour, calling to Nan Spadger over his shoulder that he would like something strong to drink.
Louisa changed her gown and repaired her hair as quickly as she could, though unfortunately this took a great while, since all her clothes had been packed and brought downstairs. With Sammy on his errand, Nan busy fetching Charles a drink, and Jim occupied with Bob, it was quite some time before anyone thought to take them up to her. In the meantime, Charles endeavoured to bring his temper under control and his more wayward thoughts to heel, so that by the time Louisa joined him, he could listen to her with some degree of calm.
With prompting, she related to him the events of the morning. In those matters regarding the carter and the boy's starvation, he could not fault her for her courage or her principles.
“And so,” he said, when she had finished, “you intend for this Bob to ride back to London with us. And what then, pray?"
Louisa smiled uncertainly at him. “I had hoped you might engage him in some capacity in one of your households.” And before he could protest, she added, “I would do it myself, Charles, but the general would never allow it. He is inclined to characterize all my charitable actions as foolish starts, and though I can often win him over to smaller things, I am certain this particular notion would not fly."
Charles buried his face in his hands and groaned. Then, unable to help himself, he chuckled and looked up at her. “Louisa ... if we were to prolong our journey a few more days, I daresay you would saddle me with enough unfortunate creatures to fill an orphanage! Is life with you always like this?"
“Like what, Charles?"
Seeing her bemused gaze, he groaned again and sobered. “Louisa-” he took her hands in his “-dearest Louisa. Has no one ever told you that you cannot cure all the world's ills?"
There was a pause. Then she answered him quietly, “No, of course I cannot do it alone, Charles ... dear Charles ... but I can try."
For one moment, Charles thought she must have been teasing him. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her deep sincerity, a firm conviction that she should indeed try to resolve the miseries of others.
Such commitment took his breath away. Louisa's tone, gentle as it had been, had conveyed a reproach-not for his own lack of charity, but for doubting the extent of hers.
Impressed, and deeply touched, nevertheless Charles felt a twinge of pity for the man who would one day take such a lady on as his wife. His life would never be his own, never peaceful. Louisa would force him to take in every stray or waif within sight. His house would turn into an asylum for orphans and pets, if not for unwed mothers and the indigent....
There would be compensations, of course. As he gazed on her face, still unable to find a response to her comment, he let himself wander in those blue eyes that promised such passion ... until a responsive thrill warned him away.
He straightened in his chair and released her hands. “Well then, we must see what can be done for this Bob of yours, but I hope the solution will lie somewhere other than in one of my own households. Perhaps the Spadgers will be able to help."
Charles went to the door and called for Sammy, whom he had heard returning a few minutes earlier. Charles had no plan of his own other than to see whether some tradesman in town might be willing to accept the boy as a new apprentice. He decided it would be easier, and far more pleasant, to pay for the boy's apprenticeship than to take him with them to London.
But when asked, Sammy said he could think of no one likely to take the boy on. Charles explained his wishes, and the innkeeper agreed to send Jim to enquire in the village. There seemed nothing left to do but wait for the results, and since it was past noon already, Charles ordered up a luncheon for Louisa and himself.
Over their meal, Louisa entertained him with her views on apprenticeships, child labour and orphanages, and her intentions of reforming them all.
Considering she had cost him one day of travel, not to mention whatever expense he would bear for Bob, Charles thought he bore this with considerable good humour.
Chapter Seven
It was past two before Jim returned with bad news. None of the tradesmen in the village had need of a new apprentice, even one who would be fed and clothed at Charles's expense.
Disheartened, but knowing that his duty to return Louisa to her guardian as quickly as possible had to come before any other consideration, Charles resigned himself to guardianship of the boy. He told the Spadgers to bring Bob into the parlour. Bob was brought forth and told what delights were in store for him.
The more Louisa described these—a ride in the carriage, a place in one of his lordship's grand houses—the bigger the boy's eyes got, until his lips began to tremble and his nose started to drip.
“Why can't I stay ‘ere?” he asked in a pitiful tone.
Jim, looking equally sad, knelt down by the boy and tried to explain. But Nan, also moved by the boy's tears, exchanged a pleading look with her husband.
Sammy's eyes moved from his son to the boy and back again.
A look of understanding passed between father and mother.
“Pardon, yor lordship—” Nan came forwar
d and curtsied. “But seeing as our Jim has taken a liking to t’ lad, if yor lordship don't mind..."
She paused, uncertain, so Sammy finished for her, “What t’ missus is trying ta say, yor lordship, is that t’ missus and I ‘ud be willing ta take t’ lad on—so long as yor lordship does what tha’ promised about his keep."
Charles looked from one to the other, then at Jim, whose face had taken on a big smile. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I cannot think of a better solution. Louisa?"
He saw that she was already beaming. She clasped her hands in front of her and said, “Oh, what good people you are! I know Bob will be happy with you. Did you hear that, Bob? The Spadgers said you may live with them!"
The boy was so overcome that he could do nothing but bury his face in Jim's shoulder. The Spadgers laughed and ushered both boys from the room.
* * * *
“That was very fortunate,” Charles said later as he dined with Louisa. Eliza snored under the table at their feet.
Dark had fallen, and Charles had given up on their journey for the day. He would have liked to see some sign of contrition on Louisa's face for causing the delay, but knew that any such hope was doomed to disappointment.
From across the table, she regarded him with an air of total complacency and said, “It just goes to show you, Charles, the good you can do when you put your mind to it."
Charles lowered his knife to avoid stabbing her with it. “In case you have forgotten, my first duty is to return you to your guardian—and without being hanged for it! I'm afraid by now, after this much time, General Davenport will have good cause to question my conduct. We shall leave tomorrow, with or without Miss Wadsdale, but I'm afraid we have greater need for her now than ever before. I cringe to think what the general would make of it if we appeared on his doorstep with no chaperone!"
Mistletoe and Mischief Page 10