Joy to the Earl

Chapter 1

The snow had been falling in big fluffy flakes all afternoon, bringing a swift and deep twilight long before the usual time.

Joy Whitfield gazed out the window of the carriage for hours, watching as the landscape changed from a barren grey-brown forest with scattered leaves dancing along the ground…

to trees suddenly dusted white…to trees laden with velvety snow that gathered in the crooks of the branches and fell in soundless heaps onto the blankets of snow that had already thickened the ground.

She’d hoped to make it to Gloucester before nightfall, but it could only be four in the afternoon, and their progress had slowed so considerably that she doubted they would get more than a few miles further.

Without warning, the carriage lurched to one side, and she both heard and felt a sickening crack from below, surely a wheel now stuck on the frozen road.

As Joy slid to one side of the tilting bench, she put her arms out to break her fall.

Across the way, her maid, Wren, let out a little shriek of alarm.

All motion stopped. After a few moments, the driver came around to the door he could still reach. He peered in through the glass and then carefully turned the handle.

“Wren, you all right?” he asked the maid.

“I’m fine, Cullen. So is the mistress,” she added with a pointed look toward Joy.

“Oh, yes, sorry, ma’am. Glad no one got hurt. We’ve broken a wheel. Even if we hadn’t, the road is solid ice now, and I can’t see anything because of the way the snow has drifted.”

“What shall we do?” Wren asked. “We can’t possibly stay here overnight. It’s already freezing.”

“You must both ride on ahead. I’ll loose the horses from their harness and you each can ride one. You’ll be able to take a few bags along, and I’ll follow on foot once I get the carriage off the road.”

“Follow to where?” Joy asked. “We’re in the middle of the forest.”

“There’s an inn not too far. A mile or two, no more. It’s called the Boar’s Head. When we set out this morning, I hoped it would be our stop for lunch, but you’ll be lucky to make it there for dinner. I pray there’ll be room at the inn, for we will not be able to travel further.”

As he spoke, Cullen helped both women out of the carriage, offering special attention to Wren, with whom he was madly in love.

They then set about pulling their most important bags from the back, while Cullen handled the horses.

Luckily, he had extra tack to saddle both, in case of a situation such as this.

Cullen helped the women mount up, and then slung a couple of bags behind each saddle.

“The road goes due north here, so as long as you don’t wander into the trees, you won’t get lost. Look for the sign of the Boar’s Head. And if there be anyone who can be spared, let them know that the carriage is mired in the road and that I’ll be on foot.”

The women nodded and wasted no more time, for a cold wind whipped through the trees, blowing the snow almost sideways, hitting them both in the face with icy needles.

Joy pulled her cloak tight about her and Wren did the same.

They rode at a steady pace northward. She didn’t dare speed up to even a trot, for the road was treacherous.

Ruts that would be no more than an inconvenience in other months were now rigid gouges in the earth that could trip up luckless creatures.

She certainly didn’t want to maim the horse, nor did she want to arrive even later because they had to walk the rest of the way.

Wren pointed. “Up there, ma’am!”

By the time Joy saw the creaking sign of a disembodied boar’s head swinging above the inn’s courtyard entry, she was chilled to the bone.

Nevertheless, the lights coming from the windows on the ground floor were cheering, and she allowed herself to think that the worst was over.

Yes, a good meal, a good night’s sleep, and surely tomorrow the carriage could either be repaired or she would find some other means of traveling to her destination.

A young boy hurried out of the snowy gloom to help them down and lead their horses into the sheltered stable.

A great number of other animals already seemed to be in residence, to judge from the various snorts and the steam rising from the doorway.

The lad directed both women to a door on the other side of the courtyard, where they would find the common room with a fireplace and something warm to drink.

Joy hooked her elbow around Wren’s to hurry her along, promising, “We shall both have hot tea, or perhaps something a little stronger. I’d say we’ve earned it.”

Inside was a haven of warmth. The innkeeper was a tiny, almost wizened man. They explained their plight, and he called out, “Amelia!”

A dark-haired young woman appeared. “Yes, Father?”

He passed on the news of a stranded carriage and she nodded once, knowing all she needed to direct a rescue of the coachman (if not the coach). Wren sighed in relief, knowing that her beau would not be left in the cold much longer.

The innkeeper was most accommodating concerning Joy’s inquiries for a hot meal and a hot beverage, but when she asked about rooms, his face took on a worried cast.

“I am afraid, ma’am, that there are no more rooms. With the weather, we’ve had many more travelers stop for the night than usual.”

“But surely there must be another woman who might be persuaded to make room for us?” Joy asked, dismayed at this news.

“Ordinarily, that may be so. But as it happens, tonight’s guests are all men.”

“What? A surfeit of men! That is absurd. Women must be traveling home for Christmas as well.”

“I am sure they are, ma’am. But they are not staying here.”

Wren asked, “Is there another inn further north?”

“Not for ten miles. You’d never make it. Even without the snow, it would be far too dangerous to travel at night.” And it was indeed night by now. When Joy glanced out the window, she saw nothing beyond a deep blue cast.

“Your daughter Amelia. Where is her room?”

The innkeeper explained that his three daughters shared a single bed in a very tiny room along with the innkeeper and his wife in another small bed, hence their inability to offer their own lodgings to Joy and Wren.

“I don’t know what to do.” Feeling overwhelmed by this setback, Joy sank into a chair across from the innkeeper’s counter, and Wren sank to her knees beside her.

The innkeeper promised that he would personally bring out some spiced cider and they would find a solution, though he did not look hopeful.

Joy looked around the foyer of the inn where they sat.

The front door opened directly into it, and the counter where the tiny innkeeper presided was on the other side.

A very small fireplace was next to the little sitting area where she and Wren currently sat, and she could hear voices from the common room to the left (though the only feminine voices belonged to the innkeeper’s wife and daughters), as well as the more boisterous sounds from the tavern to the right, which was dominated solely by male voices.

As she examined the inn, she saw that virtually every surface was decked with winter greenery.

Boughs of deep green holly branches sported little clusters of red berries.

These were twined with long strands of ivy and some other evergreen plant that had tiny white berries.

Joy thought she detected some sprigs of rosemary tucked into the displays, to judge by the smell.

Tall taper candles were set in the square lanterns placed in each window and along the fireplace mantel, as well as the top of the innkeeper’s counter.

The beeswax candles gave a warm glow and a honeyed scent to the room.

The flames of the small but energetic fire burned in the tiny grate.

She inhaled and caught the scent of roasted beef and pork sausages, along with something rich and buttery.

She also thought she smelled the sweet pungency of a mulled wine, or was it cider?

In either case, spices permeated the air: cinnamon, clove, pepper, ginger.

A cup of such a beverage would go a long way to taking the chill from her bones and skin.

Even the relatively short ride from the stranded carriage to the inn had taken its toll on her, and Joy could see Wren shivering as she held her hands out to the small fire.

What would happen if no rooms could be found for them? It was unthinkable to go back out into the vicious wind again. She would sleep in front of the fire in the common room if that’s what it took.

A moment later, however, she heard the voices in the tavern room, and deduced that the men relaxing there had overheard the conversation in the foyer.

One gentleman’s voice rose above the others, a baritone that for some reason sent a strange little thrill down her spine.

He was saying, “You cannot allow any woman to travel onward in conditions like these.”

“But what can I do, sir?” the innkeeper asked. “All the rooms are taken! Even the hayloft is fully occupied with all the servants of our travelers. Shall I turn out a man who’s already here? A man will freeze just as quickly as a woman will on roads like this.”

The gentleman replied, “I will relinquish my room, if another traveler here would consent to share his with me.”

He spoke loudly enough for all the other men in the tavern to hear him, and after a moment, a man with a voice like gravel announced that he’d be perfectly willing to split the cost of his own room, which had a long couch in addition to the bed.

The new man added, “It looks at least as comfortable as many a cot I slept on in the army.”

“There, that’s settled.” The first gentleman sounded quite satisfied. “Let us go inform the ladies that civility is not yet dead in England.”