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When Verity awakened the room was dark, save for a lighted candle by the bed on which she was lying.
She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, and she was at first startled to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. When she came fully to herself, she remembered everything, from where she was to what had caused her to faint. Disgusted with herself, as she was not normally one to swoon, she supposed that she might be excused due to the infamy of the cause.
She sat up and retrieved the letter from the floor, where it had fallen, and began to read it to herself, again, praying that she had, the first time, misunderstood.
“Mrs. Millwood, late my brother’s wife.
I regret to inform you that our mother has been in a terrible state ever since learning of my brother’s death. She has been hysterical and unwell.
“Her doctor has insisted that she withdraw from any social commitments and spend some extended quiet time in recovery. She may well go to the seaside, or to Bath, to take some medicinal bathing.
“As you are situated well with Lady Chittendom it is thought that you must remain there. We cannot have a daily reminder of the foolishness of our mother’s eldest son having married, then immediately gone off to war to forfeit his life. We ask that you not contact us for the remainder of this year, and the next. If you value the memory of my dear brother, and the health of his mother and father, please honour the wishes of his family.
Jasper Millwood.”
Verity fanned herself with the letter. On the far table by the window lay a tray with bread, cheese, and a small bowl of soup, covered with a cloth. The maid had apparently come in and decided that she was sleeping, tired from her journey.
Overcome as she was, hunger rose to taunt her.
“I will need my strength if I am to cope with this change in my fortunes,” she told herself grimly. She drew up the chair to the table and ate. The soup was still warm, and with the cheese and bread the meal was substantial enough to restore her naturally optimistic outlook to some degree. The water on the washstand was clean, and although somewhat icily cold, quite refreshing, nevertheless. “I’ll deal with this tomorrow. Right now, I need my sleep.”
Verity changed into her nightrail, settled into the bed, and pulled the covers about her. Until this moment she had not realised just how tired she was. It had been a long journey in a crowded mail coach, and a long day, and the emotional upset created by the letter had only added to her exhaustion. She blew out the candle and settled back for a good night’s sleep.
Moments later she realised that she had not latched the door when Dirk had left, for it suddenly flew open, and a man staggered into the room!
He was silhouetted in the doorway, lit from behind by the lamps in the hall. She could not clearly make out his features, but he was a large man, with broad shoulders. His hair was tousled, and he was obviously very much in his cups.
The man staggered further into the room, then came to a stop, not all that far from where she lay.
“Well, there you are, right there in the bed where I expected you. Have you been longing for me? We’ll just see to you right now, darlin’.”
His voice was not clearly understandable, but Verity was nonetheless aware of his intentions. Gathering her wits about her, she sprang from the bed and moved towards him, wondering if she could slip past him and seek aid, or if she would have to deal with this more directly.
As she drew closer, she was aware of the strong smell of rum on his breath. The drunken sot had now begun to remove his coat, and his arms were encumbered in its sleeves, making it very difficult for him to manoeuvre. He eyed her with surprise when she stepped even closer, rather than away from him.
In that moment, Verity was beyond glad that, before her first Season, her father had seen fit to teach her some rather unladylike techniques, to be used for dealing with gentlemen who behaved improperly. She was surprisingly strong for a small woman, and quite healthy – and the last months of managing Lady Chittendom’s active children had made sure that she stayed that way – another thing for which she was now abundantly grateful.
Verity grabbed the man’s coat and spun him around to face the door. He resisted and, during the short struggle, she lashed out at his face, landing a scratching blow to his neck, and causing him to shriek in pain. In that moment, the light from the lantern in the hallway fell on his face, contorted as it was with anger and with drink. She would, she thought, still know him again, if she saw him.
She pushed him back out through the still open door whilst the pain of her blow had him distracted, and slammed it behind him. Latching it securely, she leant against it, her heart pounding. She could hear him muttering obscenities and bumping about in the narrow hallway, but he did not renew his attempts to bother her. After a few minutes, the sound of him faded away, and she breathed easier.
Still, after that, sleep was slow in coming.
*****
It had taken her some time to calm down, but afterwards Verity had enjoyed a surprisingly refreshing sleep. While washing the next morning she noticed a bit of bloody skin embedded under one of her fingernails, confirming that she had, indeed, inflicted some pain upon the intruder. Unladylike as it was, she found herself pleased that she had done so.
She dressed and packed her trunks and, unsure how to proceed, she went downstairs and approached the watchful Mr. Jeffries. She had intended to speak of the incident of the unwelcome visitor the night before, but thought it better, instead, to focus on addressing a more imminent problem.
“Sir, that letter which I received upon my arrival here indicates that I’m not to proceed with my journey, yet I cannot return to my starting point. May I stay here another night or two whilst I decide whither I am to go?”
“Most assuredly Mrs. Millwood, I’m happy to accommodate you, as there is not a demand for that room at present. Things are generally quiet at this time of year. Do you wish to eat in the common room then? Breakfast is served now, and there is small beer, or we can provide tea and water if you wish. Or you could sit here at one of the tables before the fire.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jeffries, that is very accommodating — and yes, I would welcome some tea.”
She was glad that Jeffries reined in his natural curiosity, for he had heard the messenger’s comments the evening before, and no doubt wondered at her situation.
“You’ll have your breakfast in a trice.”
