Relief flooded the patrons of the stagecoach as, by lantern light, they entered the inn yard. Mrs. Gobstone crossed herself and muttered a prayer. Private stagecoaches were particularly vulnerable to highway robbery, even though the coach and his groom were armed.
Willa slumped in her seat, her tailbone bruised, her feet tingly and numb. She wasn't sure she would be able to cross the distance from the coach to the inn without collapsing, but she did have a measure of satisfaction. She'd made it this far unscathed, though utterly uncomfortable. She was a Marsden. Physical strain did not bother her. As fine as her clothing was now, she'd survived on significantly fewer comforts. She prided herself on those things. She was no pampered miss, no matter how large her dowry grew.
She was more comfortable among these common folk than surrounded by society's elite aristocrats. In a ballroom, she felt out of place, a pretender. She was not a fine lady. Yes, she was a gentleman's daughter, but she knew poverty and hunger, even though her sisters, her mother, and father had done their best to protect her against those things.
Genteel poverty was no laughing matter, though quite a few debutantes liked to snicker behind her back and remind her that they knew from where she'd come. Willa didn't need a reminder. She hadn't forgotten. Her roots were deeply buried in Northumberland with pride. She pitied these girls, so helpless and pale. They would never know what they were capable of, their strengths and their weaknesses.
This coach ride, no matter how discombobulated her limbs felt, she was now stronger for it. Her family had sheltered her since her first season, treating her like one of those frail, sugar-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth ladies, but she’d never been that. How could they forget so quickly?
Today she would not only remind herself, but she was one step closer to reminding them. The coach groaned as it came to a stop, tilting to the side as the coachman stepped down from his seat and the groom jumped down from the back to open the door. Those closest filed out first. Willa exited from the other side, not caring to wait for assistance.
She needed to use a retiring room immediately. Willa hurried into the inn, asked a barmaid for the location, and rushed off to find relief. She came back to find Mrs. Gobstone waiting next to her bag.
“If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Mrs. Parker, might we share a room and save a bit of coin? The innkeeper is overbooked, but he has promised me there is one more that we may have.”
Willa hesitated. She supposed that's what two women traveling alone might do, and itwouldbe safer. Willa was used to sharing a bed with her mother when her father was gone for long stretches at a time, but now that her father was home and her sisters had all married and lived with their husbands, Willa had her own bed and rather enjoyed the solitude.
“That seems reasonable.”
The innkeeper nodded and handed a key to Mrs. Gobstone.
“I know the way. I've stayed at this inn many times.”
“Lead on, Mrs. Gobstone,” Willa said. She picked up her valise and followed Mrs. Gobstone up the stairs to room number six.
“If you don't mind, I do prefer the side of the bed closest to the door.”
“I have no preference,” Willa assured her. She set her valise down on the side of the bed near the window. She examined the sheets and pillow. When traveling with her sisters, they always stayed with friends, sleeping on fine sheets turned down by her maid. Willa reminded herself she didn't need those things, but in such a short time, she'd come to truly enjoy them. She hesitated, reaching for the edge of her veil.
Drat. How was she supposed to remove her garments? She’d utterly forgotten that she was masquerading as someone else. An older woman, by Mrs. Gobstone’s opinion.
“Now, don't you worry, dear. You aren’t the first young woman to travel by disguise. Whatever your circumstances are, know that your secret is safe with me, and I'll look out for you while we travel together.”
Willa gasped and turned toward her. “You knew?”
Mrs. Gobstone laughed. “Of course I knew. Likely the other occupants did too. But there's no point in stating the obvious. Everyone deserves privacy. You don't move like an old woman. That was your first giveaway. Nor do you talk like one. Your voice is as youthful as a rosebud.”
Willa grimaced as she lifted her veil. “I am sorry for the lie.”
Mrs. Gobstone waved away her apology. “As I said, it is not uncommon. You're only trying to protect yourself. Many a man will look upon that dulcet face and have impure thoughts. But you're safe tonight, and we'll likely have one more stop together before we have to part. If you stick with me, you'll be just fine, dear.”
“Thank you.” Willa wasn't certain if this was a good happenstance or poor luck, but Mrs. Gobstone didn't ask further questions. Perhaps there was some secret understanding where women look out for each other but don't ask questions.
“I'll go request our dinner be brought to the room. You may dine in comfort in here.”
Willa sighed with relief. Her stomach rumbled. “Thank you, Mrs. Gobstone. You truly are a savior.”
Mrs. Gobstone beamed and left the room to fetch their supper.
Willa undressed and drew her nightgown on. Mrs. Gobstone returned, and they enjoyed meat pies fresh from the oven for the newly arrived travelers. The fire was banked, and they both climbed into bed. Mrs. Gobstone turned down the oil lamp.
Willa’s entire body ached. She closed her eyes, and the pull of exhaustion cradled her into sleep.
* * *
Wesley stared up at the pitched roof of the stables, the scratching of mice in the rafters keeping him awake. Despite the poor sleeping quarters, Ned snored like an old dog.
Willa had made it safely to the inn after he and Ned. He bribed two ne'er-do-well gentlemen into moving to another inn, so there would be a room available for Willa. He felt better knowing that Willa was not alone and at the mercy of the occupants of the inn, but instead she had a motherly sort of woman sharing the room with her. For now, she was safe and he should be able to sleep, but instead, he worried about tomorrow, about the next problem, and the next. The start of this journey so far had been easy. The coach had encountered no problems. He could only hope for the same tomorrow. He closed his eyes and folded his arms around his head to drown out the noise of Ned’s snoring and those bloody mice.
