Chapter Seven

 

 

She looked—distraught.

The notion darted into James’s mind as he caught Miss Harry and steadied her on her feet. “Easy there. Are you all right?”

Meeting his gaze, he saw her eyes widen, perhaps in concern. “Oh, Sir James…yes thank you, sir. I do apologize. I was not paying attention to where I was going.”

James considered that. “What is she up to?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Letitia. Your mistress. You wouldn’t be here if she were elsewhere, so one assumes her presence in the inn. Plus,” he grinned. “I’ve known her long enough to realize that she’s quite capable of getting quite outrageous bees in her bonnet.”

Harriet swallowed, and lowered her gaze.

“I see I’m not far off the mark.” He sighed. “Shall we take a seat?” He guided her to a bench by the window.

“Sir, there’s no need…”

“Of course there is.” He seated her. “I shall hold you captive with my charm until you tell me why you, and by default, your mistress, are here. And what maggot of foolishness she’s nurturing now.”

“Sir,” Harry bristled. “You are doing Miss Letitia a grave injustice. She is a very intelligent woman with many brilliant ideas. Your conversation leads me to believe you view her as a ninnyhammer, but I can assure you nothing could be further from the truth.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “Your protestations do you credit, Miss Harry. Your phraseology credits the governess who taught you well, but isn’t really what one would expect from a maid.”

“Um…yes, sir. I understand your point. I will attempt to be less…verbal.”

“Quite.” He eyed her with a measure of curiosity. “So what are you doing here?”

“I…er…” she sighed. “I cannot tell you without betraying a confidence. And that I refuse to do. I’m sorry.”

He thought about that. “Fair enough. Let’s approach that question in a different way. This is a public place, and although I’m aware that Mrs. Fisher has rather a soft spot for Letitia, even she would require an appropriate reason for you two to be in separate places…”

Harriet mulled over his words, wondered if she should point out the erroneous assumptions about the landlady, then decided not to. She just nodded. “That is acceptable. We are here so that Miss Letitia may interview potential stable hands.”

James felt a frisson of concern shoot up his spine. “In a room upstairs?”

“God, no.” Her eyebrows snapped into a frown. “In the small parlour there.” She pointed.

“Well that’s something, I suppose.”

“Indeed sir. I would have hoped you had a better opinion of Miss Letitia than to jump to that completely inappropriate conclusion.”

James nodded. “I apologize. It was indeed quite wrong of me, and yes I do have a better opinion of her, although Heaven knows my conversation this morning isn’t indicative of that fact.”

“Well, no, it’s not.” She eased a little in her chair and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

“But I’m still not sure I understand. She would never hire a stable hand. That would be for Edmund to take care of.”

“I know,” said Harriet sadly. “Believe me, I know.”

“So,” mused James, “the question really is why is she interviewing men—men? Or one man?”

“Three of them,” answered Harriet.

“Three men then. Why on earth would she want private interviews with three potential stable hands?” His mind worked furiously.

Harriet peeked up at him. “Um, if I may be permitted to offer a clue…”

“Please do. Before my ears lobes catch fire from thinking too hard.”

She laughed, as he’d intended, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Her book.”

“Her book?”

She nodded. “Yes, her book.”

“Ah.” James thought about that. “So her interest in hiring stable hands has something to do with her book.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Her words made him pause. He gazed at her. “Is it something that makes you worry?”

She bit her lip. “A little.”

“Something one might deem incorrect?”

“If one were given to understatement, yes.”

“Hmm.”

“You must read it, sir.” Harriet lifted her head and gave him a beseeching gaze. “Please read it. And the suggestions from the publisher. Then you will understand.”

“I asked her, my dear. She refused.”

Harriet’s hands fidgeted. “If I can procure a copy…”

“She has two?”

“The publisher gave her back the original and two copies with his ideas. Apparently he is a believer in taking precautions when it comes to such things.” She tilted her head to one side. “I also think it is indicative of his interest in this manuscript, sir. So there is most certainly merit in her work...”

“I never doubted that, Miss Harry. Just as I never doubted Miss Letitia’s ability to pen a work of brilliance.”

“Well, she’s certainly done that.” Harriet’s lips curved into a smile.

Intrigued by that wicked little grin, James nodded. “Very well. I would be most eager to peruse the book in question, but I will leave it to you to—er—borrow a copy for me. Is that satisfactory?”

Harriet’s sigh of relief was unmistakeable. “Indeed, sir. Most acceptable. And I thank you.”

“No need, my dear. I regard the Ridlingtons as family and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

“A laudable sentiment at last, sir.”

At that moment, the door to the parlour opened, and the handsome figure of the third applicant emerged, straightening his coat, and smirking. It was definitely a smirk.

However, as soon as James rose, he lost the expression, gave a polite nod and touched his cap to Harriet.

Then he strode from the inn, oozing confidence.

James found his hands clenching into fists for no apparent reason, but turned as the door opened once more on the figure of Letitia. “Well, there you are.” He managed to keep the accusatory tone to a minimum. Or so he thought.

“Yes, here I am. Most observant of you.” She frowned. “Did we have an appointment, James? I don’t recall promising to meet you today?”

“Not at all. I was just surprised to find Miss Harry here alone, while you apparently entertained a gentleman in the little parlour.”

Letitia’s chin lifted so sharply he could have sworn he heard her neck bones snap into place. “I was not, as you so snidely put it, entertaining anyone.” She glared at him. “I was, if you must know, attempting to save Edmund and Rosaline the trouble of compiling a list of potential servants—in this case stable hands—for when they are in a position to look into expanding our household.”

“Ah.” The small word conveyed James’s state of mind quite accurately.

She tossed her head. “It matters not to me whether you choose to agree or approve. I have begun the list and shall continue until I can provide my brother with a number of acceptable names.”

“Most diligent of you.”

“Bah.” She dismissed his comment. “What brings you here, anyway?”

His eyebrow shot up. “My own business actually.”

“Which of course, I shall neither approve nor inquire about. Since, as you so aptly explained, it is your business.”

He chuckled. “Yes, that does put me neatly in my place. Well done Letitia. A hit indeed.” He made the classic fencing gesture, acknowledging the effect of her words.  “As a matter of fact, I’m meeting Paul. He should be on the coach from London…” he paused. “And I think it’s just arrived.”

A bustle of activity erupted into the hitherto quiet inn, with several passengers entering, coachmen calling for grooms, and horseshoes clattering on the cobblestones.

Letitia and Harriet moved back, allowing the newcomers space for their belongings and their business with Mrs. Fisher.

One tall man hung back, scanning the room…then smiling as he met James’s gaze.

“Paul.” James held out his hand as the other man walked toward him. “Delightful to see you at last. You’ve been away far too long.”

“Well met, my friend,” Paul’s grip was firm. “’Tis indeed far too long. I look forward to making the acquaintance of my nephew.” He glanced at the ladies. “Miss Letitia. Beautiful as ever.”

“Oh pooh.” She dipped into a brief curtsey. “Rosaline will be so happy to see you, sir.”

“And I’m happy to see you with your maid, Miss. A little respectability at last.” He glanced at Harriet, who dipped a small curtsey.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh not you too…”

He laughed. “Never change, Letitia. You are unique.”

“Unique or not, I must still be on my way. Are you for Ridlington Chase, Paul?”

He shook his head. “Not at this moment. James and I have matters to discuss, which we shall do over one of Mrs. Fisher’s superb lunches. Then he’s promised me a tour of the Hall. I will stay with him there, but I look forward to seeing you all at dinner, if you’ll let Rosaline know I’m here? I promised her it would be sometime this week, but I couldn’t say exactly when.”

Letitia gave him a delighted smile. “I certainly will. She’ll be in alt to know you’ll be with us this evening. You’ll come as well, of course, James?”

“If I’m invited…”

“Silly thing. Of course you are. And you know it, too,” Letitia snorted. “We’ll say goodbye then, and look forward to seeing you this evening.”

Taking their leave, James couldn’t help noticing Paul’s eyes on Harriet.

“An attractive young lady, isn’t she?”

Paul’s head turned quickly, and he smiled. “Indeed yes.” Then his smile faded. “But you know, I could swear I’ve met her somewhere before…”

Unbeknownst to either man, a third pair of eyes remained fixed on Harriet as she departed the inn behind Letitia.

He knew he’d seen her before, and that knowledge served to set his feet on a new and more solid path. He would need to find out everything he could about this village, its residents and most particularly the woman who had hired herself an unlikely maid.

 

*~~*~~*

 

They were barely out of earshot of the inn, when Harriet touched her arm. “If you don’t tell me soon what happened, I swear I shall expire right here. In the middle of the road.”

Letitia chuckled. “Well, we definitely must not let that event come to pass.” She cast a quick glance around. “Here. Let’s make use of the bench over there. That way we’ll be able to see if anyone nears us. I’d rather our conversation not be overheard.”

She led Harriet to the seat which some thoughtful person had placed beneath a massive chestnut tree on what served as the Ridlington Village green. Smooth banks of grass led down to where a small stream had been widened into a tiny but attractive pond. Now home to a family of ducks, and the occasional fish that had left its home upstream to venture into new and greater adventures, it was a most pleasant place to rest for a while.

Letitia and Harriet ignored the bucolic delights surrounding them.

“Tell me. How were the men?” Harriet kept her voice low, of course, but the questions were burning in her brain like some kind of forest fire.

Letitia shook her head. “You know, that was a great deal more difficult than I had anticipated.”

“Oh, really? In what way?”

“They were…” Letitia paused. “They didn’t seem to understand my questions.”

“What sort of things were you asking them?”

“I started with the usual inquiries. Former positions, age, experience, what one would expect when applying for work in the stables of a Baron.”

“That seems appropriate.”

Letitia nodded. “Yes, and the answers were much as I’d expected. Then I asked some more personal questions. Were they married, for instance.”

“Were they?”

“One was. The first one. So I kept his questions casual and didn’t even broach the topic I was interested in with him.”

Harriet found herself engaged in a staring contest with a colourful mallard. It vaguely registered, but her focus was on Letitia’s voice. “And then?”

“The second applicant—and I can’t even remember these names. Isn’t that dreadful?” Letitia shrugged. “Anyway, he was not married. So my plan was to enquire about his physical abilities, since stable work is challenging to those without the stamina.”

“Ah,” choked Harriet.

The duck quacked but still held her gaze in thrall.

“I suggested he remove his shirt, so that I could see for myself the evidence of his ability to lift large and heavy things.”

“Oh my God.”

“Quack.”

“Harry, there’s a duck staring at you.”

“I know. Ignore him. Go on.”

Letitia obeyed. “So he took off his shirt.”

“And?”

“He had quite a nice chest.” She sounded thoughtful. “D’you know I haven’t really had chance to observe a man’s chest like that. And this one certainly was pleasant to look at. A smattering of dark hair, some nice muscles here and there…and two obviously well-developed arms. For a stable hand, he would serve the purpose with excellence, I should imagine.”

Harriet gulped. “So then…”

“Quack, quack.”

“Do shut up.”

“What?” Letitia blinked.

“Not you, the duck.”

“Oh. Sorry. Well, where was I?”

“Describing the nice chest…” prompted Harriet.

“It was, indeed,” concurred Letitia. “But…oddly, I did not feel the slightest urge to encourage him to bring his chest closer to me. Nor was I eager to touch him, or have his hands on me. It seems I may have made a few incorrect suppositions, but then again, that’s what my experimentation today has been about.”

“So you sent him on his way?”

“I did. I took his name, of course. It’s only fair. I will be passing all their names to Edmund because I promised myself I would do so. Word of a lady. And also because that means I really wasn’t lying to anyone about why I was there this morning.” She smiled. “I do hate to lie unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Harriet smiled at the slight twist to Letitia’s logic, but let it pass. “That brings us to the third candidate. And I will mention that he did his best to engage me in a flirtation while we waited for you.”

Letitia humphed. “I’m not in the least surprised. And you will not be surprised to learn that he was willing—nay eager—to remove his shirt. He even offered to remove his breeches as well, so that I could observe the full measure of his strength.”

Harriet gasped. Then burst out laughing. “He didn’t say that exactly, did he?”

Letitia nodded. “Those were his exact words.”

The duck watched with interest as both women laughed heartily.

Harriet regained her breath. “I will not even ask if you allowed that…”

“It was a close thing. But perfect though he was, and I will admit that his body was very appealing indeed—did you know that some men apparently have a little line of hair that drops from mid-chest to—well, I don’t quite know where it ends, because I did not allow things to get that far. But it was an interesting feature.” She licked her lips. “However, I digress.”

“Quack.”

The duck had inched closer, as if eager to catch every word.

Letitia glanced at Harriet. “Do you think we should trust him? He is listening to our conversation, you know.”

Harriet stared at the duck once more. “I think so. He probably also knows that if he betrays our confidence, we’ll eat him.”

“Quaaack…”

“Good. See? He fully understands.” Harriet giggled. “Now, back to the subject at hand. The third man…how did you manage there?”

“I wasn’t quite sure how to handle him, I admit, being unused to such obviously lascivious intentions. I have indeed led much too sheltered a life here in the country. But I learned something this morning, strictly by chance. If you want to divert a man’s attention away from his baser desires, just ask him about himself. Then be prepared to listen with an appearance of interest while he discourses at length on many boring revelations.”

“It worked?”

“Like a charm.”

“Quack!” The duck, in an apparent display of male disgust, turned around and stalked back to the water’s edge, pausing only to cast the two women a reproachful glance.

Harriet threw her hands in the air. “Men.”

Letitia agreed. “I’m thinking of roast duck for dinner…” she called, in a louder voice.

Their erstwhile companion vanished in a splash of droplets, feathers and two orange webbed feet.