“Stay in the cart with Adèle,” he told her quietly. “I’ll assess the situation.”
Céleste nodded and smiled at the little girl. “Will you tell me another story,ma poupette? I always enjoy when you tell me stories.”
That would keep Adèle distracted for a little while.
Aldric climbed down from the wagon and cautiously approached the door of the house. He knocked lightly, then stepped back, pulling the battered tricorn hat off his head.
After a moment, the door was answered, and a woman, likely in her seventies, perhaps even her eighties, stood on the other side.
“Forgive my intrusion, madam, but my wagon has two broken wheel spokes, and I haven’t the tools to fix it. Would you happen to be in a position to help?”
She studied him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Are you from Paris?” There was suspicion in the question, and he knew immediately his answer had better not be yes.
“We’ve come from Picardie.” It was the region where Fleur-de-la-Forêt was, so he was being truthful.
That brought relief to her face. “You’ve come a bit of a way.”
“A bit.” He nodded. “And we’ve farther to go still. We don’t wish to intrude upon you. I debated stopping at all.” He motioned back toward the wagon, where Céleste and Adèle were sitting. “But I was worried the wheel would break entirely somewhere we’d no means of seeing to it and my sweet girls there would be stuck.”
“You did right.” She motioned him away from the house and toward a stable. “My son can help you with the wheel.”
“I’d be very grateful to him. I haven’t much to offer in exchange.”
“We can find something you can do around the place. We could use the help more than we could use money.”
That was both a relief and a worry. It would save them money, but the arrangement might also give them away. Neither Aldric nor Céleste had ever labored on a farm. They might be asked to do something the people they were pretending to be would know how to do.
“I’ll do what I can,” Aldric said. “I’m grateful to you.”
He looked at the wagon and caught Céleste’s eye. He didn’t particularly want her sitting out there entirely by herself, so he waved her toward them, trusting her to understand what he was attempting to say.
He stepped inside the stone stable. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimness, but they did so quickly. A man, likely at least fifty years old, tossed pitchforks full of hay into a horse stall.
“Claude, this man has a damaged wheel on his wagon. He’s agreed to help a bit if you can repair the wheel and get his family on their way again.”
“Are they from Paris?” the man asked in the same suspicious tones his mother had used.
“From Picardie.”
And, again, a look of relief flitted across his face. He, however, offered an explanation, which his mother had not. “We’re hearing there’s a great deal of trouble in Paris just now. Plenty from there coming out this way calling for the same hereabouts.”
Aldric nodded. “There was trouble back at the inn we stayed at yesterday. Likely some of those Parisians.”
Their current benefactors’ distrust of strangers could very easily have meant that Aldric didn’t get the help he needed, but instead, it was actually going to be to their benefit. Should anyone come sniffing about making trouble, this mother and son would be on the lookout. And, Aldric suspected, highly unlikely to give away the fact that he, Adèle, and Céleste had been there.
Claude set his pitchfork against a wall. “Let’s have a look at that wheel.”
Aldric turned and spotted Céleste, holding Adèle in her arms, in the door of the barn. She was squinting, which he now realized was the result of darkness wreaking havoc on her vision. During the first soiree in Paris, he’d made the assumption she was expressing disapproval. How unfair he’d been.
“Thank you for your help,” she said to Claude and his mother. “The wagon sounds like it will fall to bits any minute.”
The woman set an arm across Céleste’s back and spoke in very grandmotherly tones. “Let’s get you and this little one inside the house. You both look likeyouare going to fall to bits any minute.”
“There was difficulty at the inn yesterday. I don’t think anyone there slept well.” Either Céleste had overheard his conversation and was repeating it to add authenticity, or they really were very shockingly in tune with each other.
The woman led Aldric’s ladies away. He breathed a sigh of relief. They would be watched over, and they could rest.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
