Had my melancholy affected her? She too fell into a spell of quiet reflection, rousing only upon Carsten’s return.
“Well?” I asked.
“I have secured means for you to reach London today if you are willing to drive some way at night, sir. Otherwise we must find rooms.”
There was something a touch suspicious in the manner of his speech that reminded me of a similar conversation that morning with my coachman. “What do you mean? Do you imply you are not coming if we continue?”
“There is only a gig available, sir.”
“A gig!”
“There is a horse available too, which I was told would not be the case if we waited even ten minutes. I secured it pending your decision.”
By this time in his explanation, I was utterly dumbstruck. Massaging my poor eyes with my thumb and forefingers, I spoke a little too calmly. “Is that the worst of it?”
“Well, sir,” he said, “the case is that there is a mill in Swanley tomorrow, which is just south of here.”
“For Christ’s sake!” I roared. “Forgive me, ma’am. I should not have cursed. Carsten, do you suggest we could not find aroom tonight or a coach for hire tomorrow even if we had a king’s ransom to trade?”
“Likely not, sir. We couldtryhowever, to find lodging,” he said, but he gestured so sceptically at the buildings we could see, I shuddered to think how low we would have to sink in that instance. “The gig is the only certainty at this moment, Mr Darcy. The mail coach is not due again today, and the only seats available on the stage are on the roof.”
Having instantly decided I would rather walk to London than sit on the top of a stagecoach, I glanced back at my horse. “I suppose I would have to leave Windsor here. He is spent, and even if I forced him, he would slow us down in any case.”
I then turned helplessly to the lady beside me. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. I am afraid it again falls to you to tell me what to do.”
A look of uncertainty passed over her face before she straightened and said, “I do not know why we should call quitsnowafter having come this far. If you are willing, so am I, Mr Darcy, but perhaps you might escort me inside for five minutes? And if Mr Carsten could find an umbrella for me, I would consider that a boon given the clouds that have gathered overhead.”
“Very well. Carsten, it appears I am to lose you too. You now have the care of Trusty Snail who, I confess, has earned my respect. Perhaps I should thank him by putting him to pasture in some pleasant place.” Lord. I was rambling. “In any case,” I said, striving to gather my wits, “do whatever you must and come to London whenever you can. Whether you go back to fetch Keller is entirely your choice, for I would venture to guess he would arrive here eventually when he is able. If you secure coach fare or a seat on the mail meantime, take it if you prefer, and leave a note for him with the ostler. We are now at the point of every man for himself, and I wish you luck and fair travels.”
I escorted Miss Elizabeth inside and upon approaching the desk, I laid down several coins and asked for the ladies retiring room without even a pinch of embarrassment. Such was our familiarity by then, that when a maid came, dipped a curtsey and said, “This way, missus,” we did not flinch.
We returned to our humble farm cart, which by now elicited a faint feeling of fondness in me. Carsten divided our things, keeping back his pistol and sufficient funds for the conduct of his business on my behalf. He went inside and came out with a well-used umbrella for Miss Elizabeth, purchased, no doubt, from someone inside who was willing to part with it. He took out a clean handkerchief from my valise and carefully folded into it what remained of Mrs Hamilton’s luncheon, including what was left in the cans of ale, relaying as he worked that our aim of Bromley was perhaps no longer viable. We had come out of the maze of country lanes too far north, having missed our opportunity to cross over to the road we wished to find. According to those inside, we should strive instead for Greenwich.
By this time, our gig had been wheeled out, a horse put into the harness, and we had no excuse to linger save our fatigue, which we were both too proud to claim. We set out once again, this time both quite sober and silent. This last bit was too much, but we had chosen it and had wordlessly agreed not to complain.
CHAPTER 14
Some minutes passed in silence as I accustomed myself to the peculiarities of a strange gig and a truly dull horse. We manoeuvred through what was, in truth, a backwater town, the likes of which I was most commonly spared by travelling in a coach-and-four on principal roads.
By the time we came to the sputtering end of the place where sat the gin palaces and shacks of the forsaken, I spoke with great irony.
“I suppose I now look like a tin-pot gentleman driving his lady to the fair.”
“What, pray tell, is a tin-pot gentleman?”
“He is a man who considers himself rich and fashionable because he has one hundred pounds a year.”
“And what sort of lady consorts with him?”
“Precisely the sort you imagine.”
“She is an opera dancer?”
“Hardly. She travels from town to town with a theatre company and sings very badly.”
“Well, Idosing very badly,” she mused, “and you consider yourself rich and fashionable…”
“Allow me to correct you. You do not sing soverybadly, and having left all my worldly goods behind me, save for this filthy coat, I cannot claim to be either rich or fashionable at the moment.”
