Although there was no reason to suppose that Mr. Laytham was in the Bull and Royal, seeing as he possessed no money, Cranford might be there; and Trelenny crept cautiously to one of the lit windows for a view into the room.
The scene within was quiet and several men sat about talking, but Cranford was not one of them, nor was there a tall blond man. Still Trelenny contemplated the scene, never having been so near a male retreat, and her eyes widened when she witnessed the liberties the serving girl allowed the customers. One pinched her bottom, and she only laughed good-naturedly as she thumped another mug onto the table. Engrossed by the view within, Trelenny was so startled by a rough hand laid on her shoulder that she very nearly screamed as she was swung about.
* * *
Chapter 8
“And what be you doin’, young sir,” a gruff voice asked her as she regarded the man with terrified eyes.
“I be... I mean, I was looking for my brother.”
“Now I’da thought you’da just gone right in, like most bodies.” He regarded her with not unfriendly eyes, and the strong smell of horses that pervaded his vicinity led her to believe that he worked in the stables.
“Well, as to that, Cranford does not allow me to go into public rooms, you see.” She attempted a tone of indignation. “He says I am not old enough.”
The man peered more keenly at her face and laughed immoderately. “Maybe he’s right, at that. Ain’t got a whisker about you yet.” He ran a hand through his grizzled hair as he cocked his head to study her glaring eyes. “Now there, young sir, I remember well how it is. Tell you what. There’s no need to go in; I’ve a bottle of the best in the stables. You just come along with me and have a swig before you trot on home. No one will be the wiser.”
Unable to find a way to deter the well-intentioned fellow from urging her toward the stables, Trelenny murmured in her most husky voice, “That’s kind of you, sir.” She was led around to the rear and through a low door into a tack room where the man drew up two stools and dug behind some horse blankets to produce a bottle of dark liquid, which he uncorked with his teeth. He took a healthy swig straight from the bottle and then to her horror, handed it to her. There was no way to refuse without absolute churlishness, so she awkwardly lifted the bottle and took a very small sip, which burned all the way down her throat.
Again the man roared with laughter. “That be no way to drink, young sir. You gotta grab that bottle like you mean business, throw ya head back and slug it down. Watch me careful-like.”
His demonstration made Trelenny feel weak with despair, for he consumed a quarter of the contents before he thrust the bottle at her once again. Only because he watched her with such kindly interest did she manage not to fling the bottle from her. In imitation of his bold method, she clutched the neck and bravely brought it to her lips once more, though the angle she chose allowed a great deal more of the brandy to course down her throat than she could handle. In a moment she was gasping and sputtering as the man pounded her on the back and cried, “Heigh ho! Not so bad, young sir. Gotta learn to swallow just right, don’t’ee see?”
“I. . . I think perhaps if I don’t go now, Cranford will discover I’ve gone out,” she croaked, wiping the droplets of liquor from her chin with the back of her hand.
“Onct more, young sir. You be close to havin’ it right.” He smiled encouragement as she queasily eyed the hated bottle. “Give ‘er one more try.”
Reluctantly, Trelenny raised the bottle and managed to down a sufficient quantity to satisfy her tutor. Immediately she struggled to her feet, sick, and gulped, “I must go. Thank you!” Digging in her coat pocket for the coins she had put there, she tossed him one. “Buy yourself another bottle on me, sir.”
On unsteady legs she made her way out of the stable and down the lane to the main street. Her purpose in being abroad had escaped her and nothing seemed important but that she return to her room with all possible speed. The churning of her stomach alarmed her and she could feel her throat constricting with the taste of bile. Again and again she swallowed frantically to keep down the wretched stuff long enough to reach her room. Too sick to be aware of her surroundings, she did not notice the two men who came out of the Bull and Royal and followed her irregular route to the Castle.
Her chapeau bra tilted crazily over one eye and the cravat stained with brandy, she made a sorry sight when she stumbled over a rut in the road just as Cranford and his companion came abreast of her. Shaking his head disapprovingly, Cranford caught her arm to steady her and somehow, even without seeing her face clearly, he was aware that it was Trelenny. Regardless of his companion, he cried, “Damnit, what the devil are you doing out in the street in the middle of the night dressed like that?”
“I’m sick, Cranford,” she whispered.
The brandy fumes assailed him when she spoke, inciting him to still greater wrath. “You’ll be a lot sicker when I get through with you, my girl. I’ve a good mind to turn you over my knee and beat you.”
Trelenny attempted unsuccessfully to pull her arm from his firm grasp. “You’re just like your father,” she mumbled derisively. “Everything will be solved by violence.”
Abruptly he released her arm and drew back from her as though struck. “Occasionally there is good reason for physical discipline.”
“I am going to be sick,” was her only reply as she stumbled to the grassy verge of the street. Cranford immediately took hold of her shoulders and held her while she retched, violently, for several minutes. Although she heard him speak to his companion, she was too ill to pay any heed. His cool hand soothed her brow and, when she had ridded herself of the brandy, and almost everything else in her, he wiped her face with his handkerchief.
“Are you all right now?"
“Yes, I think so, but I want a glass of water. Will you take me back to the inn?” she asked humbly.
“Of course. Laytham, take her other arm, will you? And try to keep her from being recognized.”
Trelenny gazed confusedly from one man to the other, finally focusing her eyes with difficulty on Cranford. “You found him, then? But I don’t remember asking you. You weren’t in your room when I tapped and I could not see you in the Bull and Royal. And I am positive that I stopped nowhere when I left the stable before you found me.” Her face contorted with the effort to recall any further happenings during the evening. “Well, of course I didn’t find you, because just now you were very angry to see me and talked of beating me. How did you know I was trying to find Mr. Laytham?”
“I didn’t, Trelenny, but I would like very much to know why you were.” Cranford said, his countenance grim, as he and his companion urged her forward.
“I had to tell him not to rob anyone, you know. Miss Moreby was very upset that he might, and she did not think until afterwards that they could sell their clothes. Not that he will be able to do so now.” Trelenny’s face crumpled with dismay. “I have gotten brandy on the cravat, I fear, and perhaps worse on the coat and pantaloons. But you are not to be concerned, Mr. Laytham, for I shall pay to have them cleaned, and I had already promised to lend Miss Moreby the money you will need to get to…where you are going. Cranford won’t let me pay for the post horses in the end, anyway, so there is no reason you should not have the money. You will give it to him, won’t you, Cranford? If you have decided that I may pay for the horses, then I shall pay you from what I have kept. It is not as much, to be sure, but I can pay you the rest later, or borrow some from Mama.”
Cranford frowned. “Dear God, your mother doesn’t know you’ve gone out, does she?”
“Well, of course not. Did you think I would wake her to see how I looked in Mr. Laytham’s clothes? I think you’ve been drinking yourself, Cranford. Oh, do you know what I saw a man do to the serving girl in the Bull and Royal?”
“No, and I don’t wish to know,” he replied sternly. “How did you get so drunk?”
“The stableman found me looking in the window, and he thought I wouldn’t
go in because my brother didn’t allow me. So we went to the tack room and he taught me to drink like a man. Disgusting! Do you drink like that, Cranford?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea how he taught you to drink.”
“You grab the bottle round the neck and just swill it down.” Trelenny wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Now what is the use of drinking in that manner? The liquor pours down your throat so fast you can get no pleasure from it, and I dare say one may pick up all sorts of diseases from sharing a bottle.”
They had arrived at the Castle and Cranford motioned Laytham forward to open the door and see that no one was in the hall. Before Trelenny knew what was happening, Cranford had cautioned, “Not a word,” and she found herself lifted clean from the floor and transported up the stairs at lightning speed. In the upper hall she was deposited unceremoniously by Cranford’s door.
“Which is Miss Moreby’s room?” Laytham asked anxiously. When Trelenny had pointed to it with an unsteady finger, he grasped her hand and shook it. “You are an angel to have taken so much trouble for a stranger, miss. I should never have left her in such disquiet. Forgive me for being the author of your unpleasant adventure, and know that I am forever beholden to you. If you will excuse me, I will just see if I may put all her fears to rest.”
“But the money—”
“Mr. Ashwicke has already made me a loan.”
Trelenny watched as he tapped at the door and softly called to Miss Moreby. Her view of the very affecting scene that followed was rudely interrupted by her being drawn precipitately into Cranford’s room. She backed against the closed door and said frantically, “I shall scream if you touch me.”
“For God’s sake, what’s gotten into you?” he demanded irritably as he tossed his hat on a flimsy table by the bed. “I am not your Cousin Filkins.”
“He is my father’s cousin. And I won’t let you beat me, Cranford. If... if Mama thinks I should be beaten, then—”
“Your mother will not be told of this escapade, Trelenny. I will not have her upset by your stupid, improper conduct. Oh, don’t tell me you went out on a mission of mercy. A shilling in the bootboy’s palm would have had him scour the town for me, and you may be sure he would have found me even in a private parlor at the Bull and Royal were he promised another if successful.”
She turned aside from his glaring eyes and lifted her chin. “I never thought of that.”
“Then you’d best think, my girl, for I am not disposed to treat you with the kid gloves your parents do. On this trip my word is law and my will is obeyed, or you will find yourself back at Sutton Hall before you have time to blink. Do you understand me?”
“Y…Yes. Could I have a glass of water?”
“Please.”
Her eyes dropped before his. “Please.”
The ewer paused in midair as he turned to her and asked, “Have you any idea what might have happened to you tonight? Don’t you care? Did you give one thought to how your parents would feel if you were raped or killed?”
Trelenny shuddered hut said nothing.
With calm deliberation he filled a glass and walked toward her. “Your father put you and your mother under my protection. I dare say that is a meaningless phrase to you, Trelenny, but you will take my word for it that it is very significant to me. Do you think those ill-fitting clothes would have concealed your identity in any well-lit room? Or that Providence would look over when you fell down drunk in the road and your hat slipped off, with those long blonde tresses exposed? If no one accidentally rode over you, you may be sure some drunken lout would have carted such a prize off to his room.”
“I wouldn’t have had to go out if you had been here to ‘protect’ us,” she retorted stubbornly.
“I see. You would like me to feel the burden of leaving you here alone to face such a crisis unassisted. Tell me, Trelenny, did Miss Moreby encourage your folly?”
Silently she took the glass as she shook her head, which was beginning to ache.
“I did not intend to leave the inn, but I, too, saw an emergency arise. Foolishly believing that you and your mother were reasonably safe for the night, I scarcely hesitated when I saw Mr. Laytham fling out of here in despair.
“By the time I had gained a bit of his confidence, we were at the Bull and Royal and I desired a private parlor there to discuss his…problems. I should like to know how you thought you would find him by yourself in a strange town at night.”
“I. . . could we talk of this another time, Cranford? I feel awful.” Her head was spinning and the small amount of water she had been able to sip only made her feel nauseated.
“Are you going to be sick again?” When her face crumpled and she began to gag, he dashed for the basin and held it for her just in time to prevent yet a worse disaster. Patiently he held her and stroked the hair back from her pale face until she no longer needed the basin, but she remained dizzy and he lowered her gently into a chair. “Poor child. You’ll feel better if I can get you to bed. I daren’t call for your maid, Trelenny, or this whole mess will be common knowledge. Is your room unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“Then with your permission I will slip in and bring you your night clothes. You can change into them while I wait in the hall. Will that do?”
She attempted a smile, but it went awry. “Yes.”
There was a light tap at the door, which caused him a moment’s alarm until the visitor identified himself as Laytham. Cranford opened the door a crack and asked, “Is everything well?”
“Yes, thanks to you and your friend. Miss Moreby was exhausted and I stayed until she slept, but I’ll go now to the room you’ve spoken for me at the Bull and Royal. I have no idea how to express my gratitude, Mr. Ashwicke. Only know that I will return your money as soon as possible and repay my debt to you whenever you may call on me to do so. I am yours to command.”
“Just take care of the young lady. I cannot condone an elopement in the ordinary course of events, but I wish you well.” The two men shook hands and Cranford watched until Laytham had descended the stairs. Without a glance at Trelenny he proceeded to her room and, feeling every kind of fool, opened the door and let himself in. What would poor Mrs. Storwood think if she woke to find him there? Not desiring to find out, Cranford quickly scooped up the nightdress and dressing gown set out on her bed.
On regaining his own room, he closed the door softly behind him and said, “I have your night clothes, Trelenny.” Only then did he realize that the girl was asleep, and he found, on attempting to waken her, that it was no ordinary sleep, but one of intoxication and weakness from which he could not draw her. Although she mumbled occasionally at his persistence, there was no bringing her to consciousness.
“Oh, Lord.” Cranford regarded her with exasperation, and something akin to despair. “Now what?” There was only one solution, of course, but for some time he refused to accept it. He contemplated waking Mrs. Storwood or Miss Moreby, even calling for the Storwoods’ maid, but he knew very well that he would not. Mrs. Storwood would be horrified, Miss Moreby he could not bring himself to disturb after her traumatic day, and the maid—well, Cranford was not willing to trust to the discretion of her tongue. He rose at length and made one final, unsuccessful, attempt to awaken Trelenny.
Now it might be possible to accomplish some tasks with one’s eyes closed, but undressing and redressing an unresponsive body is not one of them. Feeling himself honor-bound to view as little of her nakedness as possible, Cranford kept his eyes averted when he could, but it only made the process take longer and finally, in desperation, he decided that, given a preference, which she wasn’t, Trelenny would prefer to have the business completed as quickly as possible. Consequently, he stripped her naked and swiftly pulled the nightdress over her head, patiently worked her arms through the sleeves, and at last covered the rest of her body from his sight. Despite his resolution, he was shaken.
Upbraiding himself for his failure to view his undertaking wit
h the proper detachment, he peeked into the hall to make sure all was quiet and returned to lift her in his arms, tuck the clothes under his elbow and carry her to her room, where he settled her in a chair before releasing any remaining pins from her hair. Did she sleep with it loose? It waved softly about her face and came nearly to her waist and, as he lifted her once again to convey her to the bed, he could feel the silkiness of it against his chin.
As he settled her on the bed, she mumbled something incoherent and he put a finger against her lips to still her voice. Unconsciously she kissed the finger and he regarded her perplexedly as he pulled the bedclothes over her, unaccountably bending down to kiss her forehead before he withdrew. Surely he had been in scrapes enough that he should sympathize with Trelenny for her absurd adventures; and he would have, perhaps, if she were merely a friend. In a potential wife it was another matter altogether.
* * *
Chapter 9
Trelenny awoke in the morning when Alice entered with a tea tray, and for a moment she could not imagine why she felt so decidedly ill. On the other bed her mother moved to a sitting position for Alice to set her tray on her lap, then she turned to smile at her daughter. “For all it is not the best inn I have ever visited, I must say I have seldom had a better night away from home. And you, my love? You know, Trelenny, you are looking a bit peaked. Do you feel well? I hope you aren’t coming down with something,” she said anxiously.
“No, no. I fear I did not sleep as well as you, Mama.” Trelenny glanced down at her nightdress and touched the hair that lay about her shoulders. It was not her habit to loose her hair at night, but to braid it and then brush it out in the morning. A deep flush rose in her cheeks. “I.. . I have not spent a night away from home in ages, since you and Papa took me to York years ago, and the unfamiliarity—”
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