Chapter 2
An Opportune Arrival
“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.”
“The next place we see, then. If it’s respectable,” Milly said with a nod.
With this settled, they carried on, hoping at each turn to see a welcoming inn.
Instead, it began to rain. Milly and Angel huddled together stoically under the hood as Toby retreated beneath the massive oilskin coat.
The pony plodded on, strong and dependable, his big hooves splashing mud as the rain fell harder.
The gig gave a sudden lurch to the left and came to a stop.
Milly gasped and glanced at Angel in alarm. Trying not to panic, Angel told the pony to walk on. The obliging thing tried, but the road here was nothing but thick mud and the wheels were well and truly stuck.
“Devil take it!” Angel cried furiously, gazing over the side of the gig in despair.
“We’ll get out. Lighten the load,” Milly said, pulling a face as she too peered at the ground beneath them. “Lawks, it’s a sea of mud.”
Angel nodded. “Sorry, Milly. Get Toby to go to the pony’s head and lead him.”
Half an hour later and all three of them were ankle deep in the filth.
Angel’s feet were sodden and so cold she could no longer feel her toes. No matter how they pushed and pulled, the gig was stuck fast. She wanted to weep with frustration, but as that would solve nothing, she gritted her teeth and tried to think of a solution.
First, they tried collecting stones and shoving them beneath the wheels.
This got them about two feet farther on before the cart stuck fast once more.
Next, they tried breaking off small branches and laying them across the ground, but this got them nowhere.
Angel cursed herself for not having the forethought to have brought a shovel with her.
Jack would be disappointed in her she thought morosely.
Really, there was only one thing for it. They’d have to find help. A farmer, perhaps, with a sturdy plough horse. Oh, why did fate have to make everything so wretchedly difficult? Why, for once, couldn’t she —
“Oh ho! You seem to be in something of a pickle? Might I be of assistance?”
As one, the three of them turned towards the deep, rumbling voice. As one, they gasped.
Angel strongly doubted that Toby gasped for the same reasons they did, but the sight of the handsome stranger sitting atop a massive bay horse was enough to make anyone stare.
Certainly, enough to make a girl’s heart thud a deal too rapidly as she took in massive shoulders, a face that was all firm lines and square jaw, and eyes that twinkled with merriment.
“Heaven have mercy,” Milly whispered, her hand covering her heart.
Angel suspected heaven had little to do with it, as a fellow who looked like that was probably a devilish lot of trouble.
Still, she was not so daft as to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She was horribly aware of how much time they’d already lost, and that there were bound to be people looking for her…
assuming her father wanted to pay to get her back.
Her one advantage was that her parents would assume she’d have taken the stagecoach from Rye. They’d never believe her mad enough to buy a gig and drive herself. They’d have no notion of how much pin money she’d accumulated over the years, nor of all the coins slipped to her by her doting Pops.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Angel said, moving as if she would hurry closer but impeded by the mud that sucked at her foot, refusing to release her. She grimaced and glanced back up at him, too aware of what a shockingly disordered picture she must make. “I’m afraid we are stuck fast.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do, then,” he said cheerfully, swinging down from his mount, heedless of the mud his beautifully polished boots sank into, even as it spattered his buckskin breeches.
Angel tried not to stare, but those breeches clung lovingly to powerfully muscular thighs of a kind she had never seen before. The man was built like an oak tree.
The fellow ushered Angel and Milly out of the way and sent Toby back to the pony’s head. Then he took his place behind the carriage and pushed.
“We’ve already tried tha—” Angel began, a little impatient that he should think them so foolish, when the gig lurched forward and the pony walked on.
“Huzzah!” Toby exclaimed.
Angel laughed, too delighted not to, as the fellow squelched around to stand beside her. He grinned, looking immensely pleased with himself.
“I don’t know how to thank you, sir. You’ve been so very kind.”
“Well, if you’ll be so good as to take a meal with me, I’d consider that payment enough,” he said, running a hand through his tousled brown hair and giving her the benefit of a dangerously disarming smile.