“Oh!” she said. “Well, in that case, sir, I can only offer you my room, for this is a small house as you see. For your men, I have a few bedrolls, since from time to time, I have travellers. This is the first house on the road from the south, you see, and I leave the candle burning.”
Wishing to distance myself from the epithet of lordling by taking her room and leaving her to fend for herself, I said, “A bedroll will do for me as well, ma’am.”
“The maid sleeps in the kitchen, sir, so I shall light a fire in the sittin’ room,” she said. “But you must be hungry. Abby!” she called to the girl she had running up and down the stairs, “take this tea up to the lady, and fetch more wood for the hearth!”
Keller, who had come in with another bucket of water, went to the woodshed, and Carsten went to the sitting room to light a fire there. I was struck by how little was said, how common it must be for them to do what needs to be done, and also how natural their assistance was to Mrs Hamilton. I supposed this was the reality for those who work for a living—it means little who does what when there is a job to be done.
The aroma of what the widow had begun to cook filled the air, and with my stomach grumbling, I searched my head for some way to contribute other than paying for what we took. But there was nothing left to do save to sit at the table as she ladled stew into thick crockery bowls. With this we had stale bread for dipping, hard cheese, pickles, and ale.
The maid came back down with Miss Elizabeth’s empty teacup on a tray, which Mrs Hamilton then prepared with the same fare.
“I am afraid the lady is used to much better,” she said with a sigh.
“It is delicious, and I expect she will thank you for it,” I said. Carsten and Keller added to this with compliments of their own, and she seemed to take heart.
“Well, sheisa lovely person,” she said, “and has not turned her nose up at anything.”
I could only reflect that there wasonething she had turned her nose up at, but it did not bear thinking of, and so I changed the subject.
“Do you have any old rags or towels, ma’am? For the horses.”
“Of a surety, sir,” she said, picking up the tray and turning towards the door. “Abby can fetch them when she comes down with the bedrolls.”
It was nearly midnight before we had eaten, seen to the horses, washed as best we could, arranged our bedrolls beside a little fire, and blew out the candle in the window. My back cried out when it met the floor, not from objection, but from extreme relief, and as sometimes happens, my mind went through a lightning review of the events of the day.
I do not know why, but I felt moved to talk. “Where on earth did you find that carpet bag?”
My valet knew this irrelevant question was addressed to him. “A hostelry is overrun with lost luggage, Mr Darcy,” he said quietly.
“Is it? I did not know.” I assumed he had paid for it, at least I hoped so. Then again, Carsten was so resourceful on my behalf that he may have simply absconded with it for the sake of expediency. I did not know which, but I did know he was exceptionally competent, and I was moved to say, “I do not know what I would have said if you had not come to my aid, Carsten.”
He knew me so well, he understood the circumstance to which I so randomly referred—Mrs Hamilton had assumed a lady and gentleman, travelling together as we were, would be married.
“I have found that there are times when the plain truth is best, sir.”
After another moment, I said, “I thank you both for what you have done today.”
Keller, who had listened to this meaningless exchange in silence, and who was by far the least awed by me of all my people, said with a wink, “Aye, and I’ll be enjoying that bottle of brandy you’ll be givin’ me for my troubles, sir.”
I chuckled at this, for he knew me well enough to assume this compensation, which was a given. And then we fell silent and a haze of complacence fell over me. The supreme blessing of shelter, warmth, and food then struck me, and I thought that perhaps I had not had sufficient reminders of their worth in my life.
I sent something like a prayer upward—not to the Almighty—but to the woman above me, that she be wrapped in comfort and sleep in peace.
CHAPTER 12
Icould not claim we sleptwell,for we were naturally restless from such extreme fatigue and the consciousness we were not yet out of difficulty. In the hour before dawn, I noticed Keller, who snored unceasingly when he was asleep, had fallen silent. By some sense I knew that Carsten was also awake, and there we lay, each of us considering what must still be done to reach London.
Had we been by ourselves, the case would have been far simpler, but we had Elizabeth Bennet to consider, and naturally, she had become our priority. I could not quite see what we should next do, and I shifted restlessly in this quandary until at last Keller sat up.
“What time is it?” I mumbled.
“Five o’clock, sir,” Carsten said, holding his watch at an angle to catch what faint glow of firelight yet remained.
The house woke up alongside us, and thus we began to do what must be done in the order it seemed to appear. Keller went to see to the horses, Carsten took up our bedrolls and scraped our boots. We visited the privy in our shirtsleeves, shaved and washed at the pump, and dressed by the dwindling warmth of the as-yet untended hearth. I was by no means presentable, butI was conscious that of the three, I alone had a clean shirt and fresh socks.
Abby went to a nearby cottage for eggs and milk, bringing back with her a young boy, who was, as it turned out, her brother. He chopped wood, sanded pots, and brought water before Mrs Hamilton set us a heroic breakfast. By this alone, I knew Carsten had given her an equally heroic purse for her troubles, for which I was heartily glad.
As we ate, we commiserated, arriving at a patched-up plan to proceed to London, and then Mrs Hamilton came down with Miss Elizabeth’s breakfast tray.
