Page 5 of The Lady’s No Angel

“Miss? Miss Everdene?”

Angel grumbled and buried deeper into the nest of blankets, but an icy finger poked at her cheek. Forcing her bleary eyes open, a worried face swam into view. Toby. With a start, Angel sat up, pushing her tangled hair from her eyes.

“Toby? How are you? Are you well?”

“Aye,” the lad said sheepishly. “And I’m that sorry. I hope I’ve not spoiled your plans?”

The poor boy looked so utterly wretched that Angel could not be cross with him. She smiled and shook her head. “So long as you’re better, there’s no harm done.” Leastways, she hoped not.

Afraid that whoever her father might have set in pursuit of her would catch them, Angel had pushed on through the night, pausing often for short periods to rest the pony. They had not stopped until the next morning, bedding down to rest in an abandoned hut on the far side of Rye. Here, they had made a fire with the tinderbox Angel had borrowed from home and unpacked the victuals they’d brought to stave off hunger until they dared hire a room at a respectable inn.

Milly had noted the odd smell to the meat pie Toby had produced. He’d laughed this off, telling her it was fine and his stomach was made of cast iron. He’d been wrong.

They’d been stuck ever since, with Toby puking his guts up until he was so pale and worn that Angel had been terrified she would have to take him to the nearest doctor. Two nights stuck in this miserable hut had been the most wretched experience of her life. Still, she’d wanted an adventure, had she not?

“What time is it?” Milly asked, emerging from the bed of straw she been huddled in and smothering a yawn.

Angel fished for her pocket watch and gazed at it reproachfully. “It’s gone seven already. We are way behind schedule.” Reaching up, she put a hand to her hair and grimaced as she discovered a mass of disorderly curls.

“Never mind, miss. Let’s get ourselves tidied up and we’ll be ready to go in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Won’t we, Toby?”

Toby nodded but looked rather glum. “I ain’t half hungry,” he complained, as his stomach made a loud gurgling sound.

Milly snorted. “Apparently so.”

Angel, who had been searching in her bag for a hairbrush, looked up with a smile. “I’m ravenous too. We’ll stop at the first opportunity and buy provisions.”

“You get the pony back in harness, Toby, while I see to Miss Angelica’s hair. We can’t have you going about the countryside looking like that,” Milly said sternly, snatching the brush from Angel’s hand before she could protest.

“Have you always been such a managing creature?” Angel remarked with a laugh, though she was glad of it. She had brought Toby and Milly with her on the promise of giving them employment once she’d found her fortune. It was not just her own future on the line, but everyone’s.

“Always,” Milly agreed, and set about putting her to rights.

On their way once more, they set Toby down at the first farm they came to, and he ran up the muddy lane, his pocket jingling with coin. Ten minutes later he returned with a fresh, crusty loaf, cheese and a pint of milk.

They fell upon this feast with delight, and Angel thought such a simple repast had never tasted so fine. Carefully stowing what remained for later, they set off once more, their spirits much higher now they had full bellies.

Though the weather remained stubbornly chilly and grey, it wasn’t raining for once and Angel and Milly joined in with Toby when he began singing bawdy songs of the kind he really ought not to know.

By noon they felt a long way from home, though Angel knew they’d not travelled nearly far enough. Though the idea of finding a cosy inn and enjoying a hot meal was tantalising, she did not dare stop. Anyone looking for her would be bound to consider the coaching inns along the road, and so they avoided them.

The recent and unrelenting wet weather had done nothing to improve the country roads, many of which were only dirt tracks, and in places it was hard going.

Milly tugged her threadbare cloak tighter about herself and Angel stifled a surge of guilt. What if she couldn’t do this? What if Pops’ treasure had been stolen, or she simply couldn’t find it?

Stop that, she scolded herself, as she adjusted her freezing fingers on the reins to guide the pony down a narrow track. Pops always said that whether you thought you could or you couldn’t do a thing, you were right. She had to believe in herself, like he’d always done.

“I’m hungry,” called a voice from behind them.

Poor Toby, sitting on the box, had the worst of it as they bumped and clattered over the rutted roads. At least up front they had a padded seat and a hood to keep out the wind.

“You’re always hungry. Hollow legs, I reckon,” Milly called back.

“I am too, and chilled to the bone,” Angel admitted, glancing at her companion.

Milly bit her lip. “You reckon we can chance stopping at an inn?”

Angel shrugged. It was a risk, but they were all cold and hungry. They’d be no good to anyone if they got pneumonia. “If it’s off the beaten track, we might consider it. Either way, we need food and the pony needs feeding and a rest too. He’s a game goer but I don’t want to tire him out. He’s got a long way to go yet.”