Chapter 5
Joy woke in the morning with a pounding headache and a mouth so dry it hurt to swallow.
She winced at the light coming through the window, but after a long moment, she realized that it was not particularly bright, but only the weak sunlight that happens with heavy cloud cover.
Her eyes refused to accept this logic, and she squeezed them shut before she moaned in pain.
Having no better plan, Joy rolled over, pulled the covers over her head, and decided to sleep the rest of the day. She didn’t know how long it was until she heard a sharp knock at the door that seemed to split her ears open.
“For pity’s sake, whoever you are, go away!”
“It’s just me, ma’am” came Wren’s voice.
The door opened and Wren walked in bearing a tray with a pitcher and a glass on it. “Lucky the innkeeper has a spare key on his ring. You dropped yours on the floor here after you locked yourself in last night.”
Did she? Joy could not remember how she got to bed… Oh, yes, she did, and suddenly Douglas’s face filled her vision. Douglas brought her there…and left her there.
“I couldn’t possibly stomach anything but water,” Joy croaked out, “so don’t attempt to pour something down me.”
“This is medicine.” Wren handed Joy a glass of liquid. It was a disgusting shade of brownish yellow.
“I am not drinking that.” Joy grimaced at the glass Wren held in front of her.
“If you hate it, you can spit it out. But it will make you feel better, and it would be a shame to waste it. It was a gift.”
“A gift from who?” Joy asked, even though she had a very good idea of exactly who it was from. Who else had seen her drunk as an emperor last night? It had to be Douglas.
Wren continued to hold the glass out at arm’s length, wiggling it just slightly, so that Joy was annoyed enough to take it. She brought the glass to her nose and sniffed. The aroma was lemon and ginger, far more palatable than its appearance suggested.
Cautiously, she took a sip. Just having something to drink was rather heavenly, and she guzzled it down. The fire of the ginger overcame the tartness of the lemon, and before she knew it, she had drunk the entire glass. “Is there more?”
Wordlessly, her maid took the glass and poured another serving. Joy drank that down too. By the end of the second glass, which proved to also be the last glass, she felt a little bit more human.
“I had too much wine last night,” she told Wren. “It’s the mulling spices. They make you forget the wine part of the wine.”
“Mr. Sterling suggested as much. He said you ought to be allowed to sleep in until ten of the clock, and then to drink his recipe as soon as you awoke. He also said that in an hour or so, if you feel you can stomach it, you ought to have some dry toast.”
“My goodness, isn’t he a learned doctor. I wonder how he knows so much about overindulgence.”
With Wren’s help, Joy was able to dress and put up her hair. She didn’t know why she felt the need to hurry, considering that they were still stranded, and the watery sun and grey clouds she glimpsed through the window suggested no better weather on the way.
Wren informed her that the snow had stopped for the most part, and that all of the able-bodied men had again volunteered to help clear the roads, with the hope that everyone might at least be able to travel by Christmas Day.
“Cullen is out helping as well. I know I wasn’t, er, available last night.
I may have got slightly distracted. But I promise I shall be in the room tonight, and ready to help you get ready for bed.
” Wren sounded truly distraught that she’d not been there when Joy needed her, and Joy could only think how embarrassed she’d be if anyone saw Douglas carrying her to bed last night.
Or if he’d decided to stay and Wren saw him in the morning.
“It’s quite all right, Wren. I’m sure Cullen appreciated your company.”
The maid beamed and blushed in equal measure.
With little else to do, Joy spent the day reading in the common room.
Or rather, she pretended to read while nursing her slowly diminishing headache.
Fortunately, few people tried to speak to her.
Most of the men were outside, attempting to clear the roads.
The few older guests who couldn’t join the effort were sitting near the fire, nodding off from time to time.
In the background, Joy heard scraps of songs from the three daughters, all of the tunes different, but somehow not unpleasant to the ear.
It was rather like overhearing several Christmas memories all at once.
A midday meal of cold meat and cheeses was laid out in the tavern room in anticipation of the men coming in for a quick bite before they went back out to attack the snowdrifts in the afternoon.
The innkeeper’s daughters worked tirelessly, going in and out of the kitchen, singing and joking all the while.
Joy knew Douglas had come in even before she saw him.
Whether it was tread of his boots or simply his proximity, she was exquisitely aware of the exact moment he turned the corner and could see her sitting by the fire—although she didn’t expect the smile that spread across his face when he did so.
He walked over and sat next to her after he’d shrugged off his greatcoat and laid it carefully next to him.
She glanced at his boots and saw that they were soaked, though less caked with mud than one might’ve expected.
“I don’t suppose you met another crew coming in the other direction,” she said.
“Unfortunately, no. As far as we can tell, the road is still impassible, though news may come at any time. If we’re lucky, some rider will emerge across the threshold before we’re done eating lunch.
Or even better, a carriage or two will ride up, which will let us know that it’s safe for everyone to travel, not just those who can manage on horseback. ”
“I don’t remember a single time in my life that all travel simply stopped,” Joy said. “Though I suppose I lived most of my life in London, where if some roads are blocked or a bridge is out, there are always other ways to go. Here there’s only one north or south or nothing.”
“Well, it could be worse. At least we have shelter and food and company. The company especially,” he added, giving her a surprisingly gentle smile. “How’s your head, by the way?”
“Your remedy worked. This morning, I mean. I was indeed quite under the weather, so to speak. I am embarrassed that you were there to see it. Though grateful you were kind enough to help me to my room.”
“I was very happy to be of service. It’s more service than I was allowed to render today.”
“Are you not part of the shoveling brigade?”
He made a sound of disgust. “I tried. But word got out about my title—one of the other travelers recognized me from London, though it took him a while to place me. He shared the news, and now I am apparently not fit to lift a shovel. In truth, I think it was making some of the fellows nervous. I insisted on walking to the village, since that road is clear, to deliver a message. But I intend to volunteer as relief once some of the men come back too tired to go on shoveling.”
“So you’re stuck here with me.”
“The silver lining. The weather has improved, though I realize that’s a rather ridiculous statement, considering how terrible it was last night.
What I mean to say is, if you feel up to it, a short walk outside in the fresh air would do you good.
From my earlier labors, I happen to know of a small river we could walk next to.
There’s a quite broad path if you have shoes strong enough for the snow. ”
“I could borrow Wren’s boots,” she said, thinking that it would be nice to be out of doors for a while. She also realized that it would be nice to be out of doors with him.
“Then we will go. In a quarter of an hour? I’ll wait here for you.”
A short time later, they were walking through the snow-laden forest. They followed the path of the small river, which took the occasional curve or turn, but for the most part made its way undramatically through the ancient forest. Everything was winter white, and the branches of the trees and shrubs seemed to be dipped in glass.
Once or twice the sun nearly broke out between the clouds, and for a brief moment, the entire forest glittered with an intensity that even the finest diamonds in the world couldn’t match.
Douglas walked beside Joy, and she was absurdly happy to be able to use the excuse of courtesy to curl her hand into the crook of his elbow as he escorted her.
“Be honest with me,” she said. “Did I make a fool of myself last night?”
“Not in the least.”
“Douglas, I told you to be honest and that was an outright lie.”
“I didn’t see anything foolish in your words or actions last night. However, I will admit that you did look absolutely adorable after I tucked you in.”
“Adorable,” she repeated, disbelieving. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Leaving your room last night was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. All I wanted was to climb right in that bed next to you and not leave until morning.”
She wanted to make a joke about how that would have rendered his noble sacrifice of the room quite useless, but the look in his eyes left her shaken.
Perhaps the cold made her sharper and more keen for answers.
She asked bluntly, “Why didn’t you? I don’t fully remember what I said last night, but one reason I’d made it through so many glasses of wine was because I was trying to loosen my tongue enough to ask you to stay. ”
He stopped and turned so that he could look her over. She leaned against the wide trunk of an oak tree, her knees suddenly weak. He raised his hands to her shoulders, making it impossible for her to turn away, though turning away was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Even if you had managed to ask me into your bed, I wouldn’t have accepted.”