Throughout their meal she was particularly gay, cheering her mother with talk of the shops and assemblies in Bath, and teasing Cranford with made-up tales of careless Romans who mislaid their money, their baths, and most probably (she said) their wives.
When they resumed their journey Cranford had his revenge, or at least that is how Trelenny saw the matter. They sat side by side with their backs to the horses and once they were out of town he drew a book from a pocket on the wall. The pocket on the opposite side, he assured her, contained a pistol which was loaded and primed in the event of an emergency. The book, however, proved to be the more powerful weapon, as it was purported to be a book of sermons that he suggested he read to them.
Even Mrs. Storwood gazed at him with astonishment, and Trelenny gasped, “You wouldn’t!”
"No," he laughed, “I wouldn’t. Really it’s Fanny Burney’s Evelina.”
“That’s an antiquarian’s idea of a joke,” Trelenny murmured scornfully to her mother. “And I’ve never heard of Evelina, either.”
“Surely you must have,” her mother protested. “It was written the year I was born but it was still the rage when I was young. How we loved it! It’s the story of a young lady’s entrance into society.”
Trelenny eyed Cranford reproachfully. “So you are intent on schooling me, are you? A more palatable lesson than the sermons, perhaps, but a lesson all the same.”
With an exasperated sigh, Mrs. Storwood said, “It’s a delightful book, my dear, and very thoughtful of Cranford to have brought it.”
“Yes, he might have brought Plutarch’s Lives.” But it took very little time for her to become engrossed in the story, though she told Cranford she thought Evelina a rather weak-spirited damsel and not quite so well possessed of understanding as the author seemed to imply. “I would never get in a carriage alone with the likes of Sir Clement. She might have known he would behave precisely as he did.”
Fortunately Trelenny did not intercept the amused glance which passed between Mrs. Storwood and Cranford when the latter said, “I’m sure you would never do anything so improper.” He replaced the book in its pocket. “The light is failing and we’ll be in Preston soon, where we should be able to find accommodation at the Bull and Royal.”
“We’re stopping already?” Trelenny asked with astonishment. “But Preston cannot be more than sixty miles from home. At this rate it will take us forever to get to Bath.”
“Four days,” Cranford informed her.
“Oh, no! All of our time will be spent traveling! Surely it need not take so long. We could start earlier each day and not find an inn until well into the evening. Then it would be only three days and we would have a longer stay in town.”
Cranford regarded her coldly. “I doubt your mother would appreciate our bumping along the roads for ten hours a day, Trelenny.”
In the fading light of the carriage he could just barely perceive the blush which rose to her cheeks as she lowered her eyes to her hands. “No. No, of course not. And our journey can be interesting in itself, Mama, for I have brought some guidebooks on the counties we will pass through. Tomorrow I shall get them out and read to you about Lancashire and. . . and any other counties we might reach during the day.”
Mrs. Storwood regarded her daughter fondly. “That is thoughtful of you, my dear. I think we might plan to be on the road by nine tomorrow, Cranford, and decide as we see our progress where we might stay the night.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
* * *
Chapter 7
“There is room for you and Trelenny here, Mrs. Storwood,” Cranford informed them when he emerged from the Bull and Royal, “but I shall have to find another hostelry. The innkeeper says the Castle is likely to have space for me, as it’s not such a quality establishment as his.” He grinned at the face Trelenny made, but was not so amused by Mrs. Storwood’s look of concern. “There is nothing to worry you, ma’am. I promise you the Castle will be quite good enough for me, and you and Trelenny will be well looked after here. Shall I go ahead and make the arrangements?”
“Could we not all stay at the Castle?” Mrs. Storwood asked diffidently.
“You would not be so comfortable there as here.”
Mrs. Storwood looked helplessly to her daughter for advice, not sure that she wished to be separated from the efficient escort he provided, and though Trelenny would have relished the opportunity to manage for the two of them, she felt sure her mother would be easier in Cranford’s company. Trelenny said, “I’m sure we would do well to stay together, Cranford.”
The Castle was a modest inn with but four rooms to let, and though these were clean, the furnishings had seen better days and they had never been more than serviceable. Mrs. Storwood bore this circumstance with equanimity, though she found the staff even less palatable than her surroundings. A surly innkeeper, a saucy maid, and a lazy ostler were their introduction to the Castle, and made her regret her decision to stay there, until Cranford, by a mere tone of voice, helped the staff summon up a due deference for their clientele. But nothing would induce Mrs. Storwood to sit in the cheerless parlor after they had finished their meal, and she retired with her daughter in attendance to the room they had chosen at the rear of the first-floor hall.
For Mrs. Storwood it had been an exhausting day and she allowed the maid to prepare her for bed without demur. When Alice had left, Trelenny kissed her mother’s brow. “Go straight to bed, Mama. If you don’t mind, I shall just sit up for a moment with the candle so I may look out our route on the map and have the right guidebooks available in the morning."
Within minutes Mrs. Storwood slept, and Trelenny considered the map on which Cranford had marked their route. She noted that he planned to follow the main mail coach road rather than the more direct road, which would take them to Lawton by way of Warrington instead of Manchester. As she debated the usefulness of arguing this point with him, she heard the sounds of arrival below in the hall and shortly thereafter footsteps along the passage which stopped at the door next to hers. The inn, as has been noted, was not a superior establishment and Trelenny could distinctly hear the murmur of voices through the walls. When the sound ceased, presumably after the landlord or maid had departed, the silence lasted only a short while before Trelenny could clearly hear the sounds of weeping from the next apartment. Nothing so easily stirred her ready sympathy as the thought of someone in distress. For several minutes she sat listening, but there was no abatement to the heartbroken sobbing and, after a glance assured her that her mother’s peaceful sleep had not been disturbed by the sound, she crept to the door and cautiously opened it.
There was not a soul to be seen, and no way to tell whether Cranford was still downstairs or in his room at the head of the staircase. Trelenny tapped hesitantly at the next door and the muted sounds within stopped abruptly. A frightened female voice called, “Who is it?”
“Miss Storwood. I am in the room next to yours and I have come to see if I may be of any assistance.”
“Thank you, no. I . . . that is, you are good to enquire.”
“Might I just speak with you a moment? To assure myself there is not some service I might render?"
No answer came, but after a moment the door opened a crack and Trelenny could distinguish a pale face with masses of dark hair and large, moist dark eyes. The girl appeared to be about her own age, though slighter, and considerably agitated, her face streaked with tearstains and her eyes red from weeping. She seemed incapable of speaking, such was the despair under which she labored.
“I would like to help you,” Trelenny whispered. “Are you being abducted to Gretna Green? You may take refuge with us, you know. My mother is very tenderhearted, and Cranford would see that the man did not make off with you.”
A cold hand clasped hers and the girl silently pulled her into the room and closed the door. “How... how did you know we were going to Gretna Green?”
Trelenny shrugged. “This is the road everyone
uses. It passed right by our home and, when I was younger, I used to wave to everyone who went past and tried to determine if they were on their way there. Will you let us help you?”
"You…you don’t understand. I wish to go to Gretna Green with Robert, but everything has gone awry. All my jewelry and his money were stolen by a highwayman today— when it was hardly dark—and we haven’t enough between the two of us to pay for my room here tonight. I don’t know what to do!” The girl wrung her hands as two tears spilled over and ran unheeded down her cheeks. “We can’t apply to either of our families since they are nowhere nearby, and besides, my family has forbidden our marriage. And I am so afraid, so afraid.”
Trelenny put her arm about the girl and wiped away the tears with a lawn handkerchief. “Come now, my dear. I can give you money to pay your shot; Cranford is holding some for me, more than enough to get you to Gretna Green if that is what you wish, and I know he won’t accept it in the end, so I might as well have it now. Shall I go and ask him for it?”
Dumbfounded, the girl protested, “But you don’t even know me. I can’t take your money. Not that it would not be repaid! If we get out of this mess we shall manage very well and be able to repay you the very second we return to Hampshire.”
“Then it’s settled, and I wish you will dry your tears, for you haven’t a thing to worry about.”
“But I do.” A fresh spurt of tears coursed down her cheeks. “Robert was so desperate, I am afraid for him, afraid he will do something foolish.”
“What?” Trelenny asked sharply.
“He went away saying he would find some money... had to find some money. I am so afraid he will rob someone.”
“Surely not!” Trelenny objected.
“He could not bear me to suffer the mortification of being unable to pay for my room in the morning. I told him I didn’t need a room but he insisted. I would have slept in a barn or a meadow!”
“Where has your Robert gone? We need only find him and tell him there is no need to do anything foolish.”
“But I don’t know where he’s gone. And I don’t know what he may do. Oh, he will surely be killed!”
“Come now, it is no such thing. We have only to find him before he does anything unwise. I know, we’ll ask Cranford to find him.” She tugged at the despondent girl’s hand. “Take heart, miss.” Gently she urged the girl out of her room and down the corridor to Cranford’s, where she tapped lightly. When there was no response she repeated her summons with more energy, but there was still no answer. “Now where can he have gotten to? We planned an early start in the morning. Well, never mind. I shall go down and ask after him. Tell me Robert’s name and what he looks like.”
“Robert Laytham. He’s very tall and has curly blond hair.”
“What’s he wearing?”
“A blue coat and buff pantaloons, and Hessians with little gold tassels.”
“Very well. Wait for me in your room.” Trelenny watched as the girl scurried away, and then she proceeded down the stairs. The door to the public room stood open and the sounds of male merriment assailed her ears, but she was loath to go close enough to see if Cranford was one of the occupants. Instead she turned toward the kitchen, where she was sure to find a servant to deliver a message to him if he were in the house.
In the ill-lit passage she failed to notice a door open behind her until her arm was caught by someone who reeked of liquor. “Ho, what have we here? You’ve mistaken your way, my girl. You’ll be wanting to join our little private party.”
Trelenny shook off his hand with an angry gesture. “How dare you touch me?” she cried in her loftiest manner. “I should have you horse-whipped! Innkeeper!”
When Trelenny desired to be heard, there was no denying her. Not the softest-voiced girl to start with, she had a truly magnificent range when she chose. The man who had accosted her shrank back and, as several doors opened in answer to her cry, made a wild dash for the rear door, stumbling in his eagerness to be away. Satisfied, Trelenny surveyed the new arrivals, picked the landlord from amongst them, and said, “That rogue had the temerity to address me, sir. It had best not happen again.”
“No, miss, but if I might be wondering as to why you was down here in the first place…” he said with mingled servility and insinuation.
“It is not your business to wonder at anything I do, my man,” she declared regally. “However, since I have unearthed some assistance at last, I will inform you that I wish to learn the whereabouts of Mr. Ashwicke, our escort, as a problem has arisen which only he can handle…for my mother,” she added as an afterthought.
“You might have rung,” he retorted sulkily.
“And so I might, were the bell-cords of your establishment in operation.”
“Weren’t a thing wrong with the bell-cord in your room when last I looked.”
“Then you had best look again, hadn’t you?” she asked placidly. “But this is all far from the point, sir. Will you convey my message to Mr. Ashwicke?”
“I can’t do that, miss.” He smiled broadly. “He went out some little time ago.”
“Very well. The matter will have to wait until morning.” She turned abruptly from him and headed back down the passage, the object of a variety of amused eyes.
When Trelenny informed her new friend of her devastating news, the girl cried, “Now we won’t be able to save him! It’s not your fault! You have done everything imaginable, and for a pitiful stranger. But I have just thought of the simplest thing, and I could die that I didn’t think of it before he went off. We could sell our clothes.” She opened a modest valise which stood beside the bed. “You see? Of course there is only one change for each of us because eloping is a very delicate undertaking. One cannot walk out of the house with a bulging portmanteau and half a dozen band boxes! Robert thought we should have less trouble sharing a case. But he has all his clothes made by Weston and surely they would bring us something. And I wouldn’t mind parting with my dress. If only I had thought before he left!”
Trelenny was considering the contents of the valise with a speculative eye. There was nothing for it but to go looking for Mr. Laytham herself, she decided reluctantly, and it would be far safer to do so dressed as a man. Perhaps if he was a great deal taller than she, her decidedly feminine figure would be enveloped by his coat. “What’s your name?” she asked abruptly.
“Oh, Lord, have I not even introduced myself?” The girl ran a distraught hand over her eyes. “Caroline Moreby. I’m from Bath.”
Momentarily distracted from her mission, Trelenny asked curiously, “You’ve come from Bath? How long did it take you to get there?”
The girl opened her eyes wide with astonishment. “How long? Why, we’ve been traveling since very early yesterday morning. I crept out of the house before dawn and we didn’t stop last night until very late. Are you worried that someone is following us? I can’t believe so, for we planned our departure when my stepfather and stepbrother were from home. They aren’t due back until tomorrow, and I do not believe Mama could have gotten a message to them soon enough to make their arrival more prompt.”
“Miss Moreby, I have a mind to go in search of Mr. Laytham, but I think it would be wise for me to dress as a man. Would you be willing to let me borrow his clothes?”
“Go out? At night? Alone? You would not do anything so dangerous, surely!”
“I can think of no other way to prevent your young man getting himself into mischief. He is young, isn’t he?” Trelenny asked, suddenly wary.
“Robert will be nineteen come November.”
Trelenny breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it. They get more pompous as they get older, you know. Cranford is quite unbearably high in the instep now, but Mama says he didn’t use to be so stuffy. And you are not to worry about me going out. I shall love the adventure and, as I shall be dressed as a man, no one will accost me.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I have a very effective weapon, too.”
“You. . . you wouldn’t carry a pistol?”
“No, no. I was speaking of my voice,” Trelenny confessed modestly. “I’ll just take these clothes along to my room and change.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t, Miss Storwood,” the girl begged. “Possibly Robert will think of selling the clothes himself. You don’t think he will try to find the highwayman, do you? He... he was very upset at being forced to give over everything. You know what men are! He felt he should be protecting me, and though I assured him there was not a thing he could have done, still he lamented his impotence in the matter. He is so very proud! I think he would have gone after the fellow if it had not meant leaving me with just the postillions.”
“I can’t see the slightest chance of his finding the highwayman, Miss Moreby, so be easy in your mind.” Trelenny edged toward the door, clutching the unknown gentleman’s clothing under her arm. “When I return, I will come to see you, no matter what success I’ve had.”
Without allowing the girl another protest, Trelenny slipped out the door, though she hesitated in the corridor for a moment. It would not do to have her mother waken and see her dressing in a man’s clothing, so she knocked once again at Cranford’s door, and when there was no response she tried the brass handle. So he has not enough faith in the hostelry to leave the door unlocked, she thought indignantly, but he would go off and leave us here alone. She stalked to her own room.
Through the whole dressing her mother slept peacefully but Trelenny hastened as best she could, tugging the cravat into the semblance of a fashionable knot. Her reflection indicated that there was a great deal wanting in the completed toilette, but she was convinced there was no reason anyone should suspect her disguise. When she had waited at the head of the stairs until a servant in the lower hall had disappeared toward the rear, she quickly made her way down and out the front door. All was darkness in the street except for the light issuing from the public rooms at the inn. The sounds of voices dwindled as she strolled off toward the Bull and Royal, attempting to make her stride as long as her legs could manage.
Holiday in Bath Page 7