Not one to gossip, Banks merely nodded his understanding. “Have you been in her employ long?” he asked as he opened the door.
“Nearly twenty years,” she replied, letting go her hold on him so she could step over the threshold and into the smoky public room. Her first thought was how warm it was compared to outside. Of how the chill of the coach seemed to leave her body to be replaced by the comfort of a woolen blanket. But the odor of unwashed bodies and the smoke from cheroots nearly had her turning around and heading for the fresh, snowy air outside.
The valet followed her into the establishment, his face impassive as he considered her length of employment. She was obviously adequate in her duties or she wouldn’t have stayed in the countess’ employ all those years. As for her demeanor, he found it very different from the one he had come to expect every night at the dinner table. Indeed, this woman seemed a much lighter, more content version of the Simpkins he had come to avoid in Worthington House.
His gaze immediately going to his lordship, he realized the earl had already been recognized by a short, rotund gentleman seated at a trestle, a pint of ale in front of him and a tavern maid mounted on his stubby knee. Lord Brougham? he wondered. No doubt here for a tumble, he thought with a bit of disdain. The man was a rake in every sense of the word.
When a tavern maid approached, he stepped into her path and whispered, “Tea and biscuits for the Earl of Torrington and his countess and two servants. In the parlor.” He pressed a coin into her palm.
The tavern maid straightened and gave a quick curtsy. “I’ll see to it right away,” she replied, her gaze darting to Alice and then back to him. “My lord.”
Banks was about to correct her when the earl turned in his direction, giving a wave that indicated his impatience. They had only twenty minutes before the coaches would be ready to depart. Banks nodded and led Alice through the throng of travelers and opportunists who frequented the coaching inn. “Stay close,” he warned as he increased his steps and his speed. “Pickpockets and thieves thrive on this place.” He didn’t add that he expected he would have to pay more than the posted rates for the tea and biscuits.
Alice struggled to stay abreast of the valet, annoyed when several unsavory types reached out in her direction, as if they wanted to grab her. When one managed to hook her arm with one of his own, she glared at him, thinking he would let go. But it was Banks who reached over and jerked the offending hand off of hers. “She is a lady of quality,” he hissed to the ruffian.
Surprised at how quickly the valet had rid her of the offending man, and rather stunned at his words, Alice stared at Banks. “Thank you,” she murmured as the valet continued on through the public room as if nothing untoward had happened.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Simpkins. I would apologize for those of my sex who are idiots, but it would do no good, I fear.”
The comment had Alice smiling despite the tone in which the words were delivered. “You needn’t, really,” she replied, finding it hard to hold her breath against the foul odors and speak at the same time.
A moment later, they were in a well-appointed parlor, the noise of the public room suddenly reduced to a faint hum. She took a deep breath and turned to the valet. “Thank you for your escort.”
Banks nodded and turned to the earl. “Tea and biscuits have been ordered, my lord, my lady,” he said as he gave a deep bow.
“I don’t know why Haversham favors this staging stop,” Grandby complained as he moved to stand in front of the fire. “This has to be one of the worst in London.”
Banks straightened, tempted to tell his master that Haversham enjoyed a certain ladybird at this particular inn, and was probably doing so at this very moment. “I couldn’t agree more, my lord, but it is said they have the best horseflesh,” he claimed with a nod.
Alice frowned, wondering at the valet’s odd reply. Certainly they had stopped at Highgate for the storied prostitutes who occupied the third-story rooms. Although she might not have traveled this far north of London, she had heard the gossip. Why, she was sure the two coach drivers and their grooms were enjoying a tumble this very instant. And Lord Brougham was probably just waiting his turn in the public room!
Since her ladyship had taken a seat at a table in front of the fireplace, Alice moved to one not far away. Banks joined her, taking a seat when he was sure his master didn’t require his company.
“You’ve obviously been here before,” Alice whispered as Banks joined her.
The valet leaned back in his seat and finally nodded. “Many times. His lordship has made this trip every year I have been in his employ,” he said quietly. “It seems he wishes to continue the tradition now that he is married. The weather was only this disagreeable in eighteen-thirteen, though.”
Alice nodded her understanding, relieved when an older woman appeared at the parlor door. She carried a huge tea tray laden with far more than the usual tea service. A young girl followed with a smaller tray and hurried to place it in front of Alice.
“I’ll do the honors,” Adele said to the woman, giving her a nod as the large tray was set onto the table.
“Very good, milady. May I say, it’s an honor to have you pay a visit on such a cold day? And I must apologize for all the mud. It’s not usually this bad,” the woman claimed with a shake of her head. “Now should I just add this to the bill for changing out the horses?”
Alice stiffened when she heard the question, but Banks suddenly stood up and quickly moved to stand next to the woman. “Pardon me,” he said as he gave the server a nod. “Could you join me at the door?” he whispered, his hand moving to her elbow to guide her away from the earl and countess.
The apple-cheeked woman—Alice just then realized she was probably the owner’s wife—gave the earl and countess a quick curtsy and a worried glance before following the valet to the door.
Watching out of the corner of her eye, Alice realized Banks was settling the bill. Having produced a velvet pouch from his waistcoat pocket, he was counting out coins into her pudgy hands as she looked on. Her grin widened until it was apparent she was missing some teeth. A moment of whispering ensued before she gave Banks a curtsy and quickly exited the parlor.
When Banks returned to their table, Alice poured him a cup of tea and set it on a saucer in front of him. “If I remember correctly, you don’t take it with milk or sugar,” she said in a lowered voice. “Is that still the case?”
A bit surprised she would know such a detail—the two had never taken tea together before—the valet arched an eyebrow. “That is correct, Mrs. Simpkins.” He watched as she added milk to hers, noticing her small hands and slender fingers as she held the pot with one hand and stirred the tea with the other. He continued to watch as she brought the cup to her lips, her eyes closing a moment as she took a delicate sip. Seemingly pleased, she sat up and afforded him a grin.
“Surprisingly good,” she murmured.
Something about how her face lit up with her grin and her compliment had Banks regarding her in a new light. He dared a taste of the tea before taking a larger swallow and had to agree with her assessment. It was better than what was served in the kitchens at Worthington House. “Indeed. I wonder from which tea shop the inn buys it.”
Alice lifted the plate of biscuits from the tray, holding it out so he could help himself to a Dutch biscuit before placing the dish between them. She took a lemon biscuit and nibbled on the edge, realizing it had come from the oven within the last hour. “The biscuits are even fresh,” she added.
Biting into his, Banks widened his eyes as he considered the flavor. Once he had swallowed, he leaned forward. “It’s still warm,” he whispered, his eyebrow arching up, almost as if he were sharing a secret.
The grin on Alice’s face widened into a smile. “Why do you suppose we expected anything less?” she wondered as she angled her head.
Inhaling as if he were about to answer, Banks simply shook his head. “Unfortunate, isn’t it?” he murmured as he took in the
furnishings in the parlor. Nothing looked too terribly worn. There were no scorch marks on the ceiling or around the fireplace. The tables were covered in clean linens. And although the settings were sparse—just spoons for each of them and a knife next to a bowl of jam—the spoons did appear to be of fine silver.
“I do believe they have served their very best.” Given the condition of the coaching inn’s public room, Alice had underestimated the proprietor when it came to accommodating the earl and countess.
“Are you warm enough?” Banks asked suddenly. He had shed his cape coat upon entering the parlor, quickly seeing to the earl’s coat before doing so. The earl had already helped the countess out of her coat and handed it to Banks even before they were seated. Meanwhile, Alice kept her redingote in place.
The maid nodded. “I am now.” She seemed ready to say something else, but thought better of it.
“What is it?” the valet asked, curious as to what kind of complaint she might make.
Alice gave a shrug. “I was hoping we might add a lump or two of coal to the foot warmer in the coach. I’m afraid I am not in possession of suitable boots for this weather,” she added, her face taking on a pinkish cast.
Banks frowned, realizing they hadn’t lit the few lumps already provided in the older coach. He had made sure the lumps of coal in the foot warmer in the earl’s coach were lit and giving off enough heat to keep the countess’ feet warm before they left Worthington House, but he had neglected to do the same for their coach. “I’ll see to it before we take our leave,” he replied with a nod. “You only needed to let me know you were cold. I could have seen to it earlier.” He didn’t mean to chide her with his words, but the sound of a scold couldn’t be helped.
“I didn’t wish to complain,” she countered with a shake of her head. Concerned she may have offended the man, she wondered if he might like more tea. She held up the pot. “May I warm up your tea?”
Banks blinked and regarded his half-empty cup before placing it back in the saucer. “Yes, thank you,” he said. He was still mulling over her comment about not wanting to complain—since when? he had almost asked in response—when Haversham suddenly appeared at the parlor door. Banks gave Alice a nod before hurrying to the driver.
While the two servants talked in quiet tones, Alice concentrated on her employer. Apparently enjoying her tea as well as the conversation she was having with the earl, her ladyship seemed in good spirits. She certainly looked younger than she had when she was first widowed. Younger and happier, Alice thought.
Could a marriage of affection truly be the reason? Or was it merely the nighttime attentions her husband showered on her? Why, the countess seemed to welcome the earl into her bed nearly every night! Of course, given how cold the winter had been—and almost the entire year before it—Alice couldn’t blame the woman. The thought of sharing a bed with a warm body had her wishing she could do the same, although there wasn’t a servant at Worthington House she thought might feel the same way.
At least, not with her.
She was fairly sure the randy footman from the second floor had his eyes on a maid who worked on the ground floor. He was probably young enough to be her son, though.
A quick glance in the direction of the parlor door had Alice wondering about the driver. The man was huge! Tall and broad and only educated in the subject of horses and equipage, Mr. Haversham wouldn’t be her first choice to warm her bed. Probably not her second or third, either. As for Mr. Banks...
She didn’t have an opportunity to consider the valet, for he had suddenly turned and directed his attention on her. Alice rose from the table, realizing she was being summoned with his pointed glance. Hurrying to join him at the door, she asked, “What is it?”
“Mr. Haversham says he can light the coals in the foot warmer, but we’ll both have to sit on the same side of the coach if he does so. Apparently there isn’t enough room between us to have it lit without one or both of us being inconvenienced,” Banks explained.
A shiver of something skittered down Alice’s spine just then. “I do not mind if you do not,” she managed without sounding too breathy. She might never share a bed with a man again in her life, but the thought of sharing the coach bench with the valet had her feeling entirely too warm all over.
“You’ll have to ride in the direction of travel,” Haversham said in a low voice. “Weight’s all wrong no matter what, so Mr. Davids is goin’ ta take one of her ladyship’s trunks in his basket,” he explained, referring to the driver of the coach in which the earl and countess were riding. “He needs the ballast at the back given the snowy roads.”
Banks turned to Alice. “Is there a particular trunk that should go ahead with the countess?”
Alice frowned, wondering if Haversham expected there to be trouble getting through to the next inn. She thought of what was in each trunk. The valises in the coach contained whatever Adele might require for her toilette and for sleeping, as well as her jewels, but the largest trunk contained her carriage gowns and redingotes. “The largest trunk, Mr. Haversham. If anything untoward happens, she can do without the others until we reach Torrington Park.”
The driver nodded. “Save some biscuits for me,” he whispered before he disappeared into the smoke-filled public room.
“Anything amiss?”
Milton Grandby’s low voice, only inches away, had both Banks and Simpkins jumping in surprise.
“No, my lord. Just a discussion about the need to redistribute some of the luggage,” Banks said in a whisper.
The earl dared a glance back at his countess. “Wife’s trunks too heavy?” he asked with a hint of humor.
“Something like that, my lord,” Simpkins replied with a curtsy.
“Well, we’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes,” he claimed. “Be sure to bring all the biscuits, won’t you?” he added as he pulled on his coat with Banks’ help.
Alice blinked before giving the earl a nod, glad to know he shared their assessment of the inn’s baked goods. “Of course, my lord.” She grabbed Adele’s coat from the hook near the door and hurried back to where the countess was regarding them with a frown.
“What’s happening?”
“The biscuits have been deemed too good to leave behind, so I’m to bring whatever I can,” Alice said as she held the redingote open for her mistress, deciding not to mention the problem with the luggage.
“Agreed,” the countess whispered. “Take them all. I’m sure Grandby had to pay dearly for them.”
Alice moved to the table at which she and Banks had been sitting. She produced a hanky from the pocket of her redingote. The remaining biscuits from that table, as well as the one on the earl’s table, made it impossible to tie up the small cloth into any kind of pouch, but she stuffed the bundle into her pocket and hurried to join Banks before he headed back through the public room.
She wanted her arm on his as they made their way back to the coaches.
Chapter 6
Aristocrats on Parade
The following day, Wednesday, December 18, 1816, at the Red Lion
“One would think the proprietors had never hosted a peer before,” Adele commented as her husband helped her into the coach. “I cannot decide if the woman who brought our tea was pleased to host us or not.”
Milton settled into the squabs and yawned. “Just not used to waiting on aristocrats is my guess,” he murmured, thinking he would take a nap in preparation for that night’s stay at the Angel Inn in Grantham.
If tonight’s inn was anything like the Black Bull in Alconbury, then he intended to have his way with Adele again. Besides, he wanted to keep her occupied lest she become convinced the Angel Inn was haunted. He supposed the rumors of ghosts couldn’t be helped since it was one of the oldest inns in all of England. “Some just don’t know how to act around peers,” he continued. “I’ve had some treat me as if I were the king and others act as if I was the poorest pauper.”
On that thought, he remembered he needed to
give his valet some more blunt. Banks had informed him in an urgent whisper that this latest inn had charged double for the tea and biscuits, and a porter insisted on being paid despite the fact that no trunks were added or removed from either traveling coach when the horses were changed out. “We, sir, are being fleeced,” the valet had said between clenched teeth, his anger evident.
And Banks was never angry. He was usually a very calm man. Content. Professional. Milton knew the man had made arrangements in advance for all the stops they were making—Banks was fastidious when it came to travel arrangements.
So, what was different this year?
Milton realized just then his wife had a point.
Although he had stopped at or stayed in every coaching inn they were using on this trip, the service they were receiving was different from past visits. They were being charged more and encouraged to leave sooner.
He wondered if it was the time of year. None of the stagecoaches operated in the winter time, so the coaching inns didn’t serve as many customers nor change out the number of horses they did during the summer months. But if the weather wasn’t bad, aristocrats were likely to make their way to their country homes for the holiday—to the seats of their dukedoms or marquessates or earldoms. The tracks in the snow—the ones their driver, Mr. Davids, was following—were indications others were using the same route despite the weather. The Great North Road was a Royal Mail Coach route as well as a delivery route for Wellingham Imports. His cousin Gregory’s brother-in-law, Thomas Wellingham, owned his own coaches and horses to deliver goods for his import business. Even in the winter, his coaches made the trek north, sometimes all the way to Edinburgh.
This winter was certainly different from others, though. There hadn’t been a summer. Just rain and even snow when there should have been sunny skies and warm temperatures for the farmers. It was definitely colder. The earl had encouraged the drivers to take turns riding in the coach for a time while the grooms saw to driving the coaches between stops. Although the grooms were along to provide protection for the coach, who would dare rob a coach when it was snowing and cold? Only the most intrepid highwayman would attempt such a feat, and Milton thought it rather unlikely such a thief would appear on this route.
The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1) Page 5