Chapter Seven
They reached Birmingham as night began to fall, moving beneath an archway that declared the establishment to be The Crown.
Well, Bella assumed it was The Crown. The N was missing, although there was a vague shadow where the letter had once been, visible against a wall that must once have been white but was now a faded grey.
The Crow may in fact have been a more suitable name for this drab and dark place.
The yard itself was dirty and noisy, full of tobacco smoke and men shouting at one another at such volumes that Bella wondered how any communication was achieved at all.
The carriage stopped abruptly, and Bella turned to Clara in alarm. "What is Jo about? This does not look like a suitable establishment at all."
"It’s got a roof and a workin’ chimney, far as I can see, miss," Clara said with a shrug. "Reckon we’ll survive the night. Be properly dark soon an’ all, and we don’t want to be wanderin’ round the city after night falls if we can help it."
Bella felt anxiety bubble in her chest, but sat ramrod straight and attempted to keep her face placid. She waited for several minutes for someone to open the carriage door, puzzled as to why nothing was forthcoming, and then started when three sharp raps sounded against the side.
"Here you are now, missus," came Jo's brusque voice.
But still the door did not open.
"Reckon we be shiftin' for ourselves, miss," said Clara with a roll of her eyes.
She reached across Bella, twisted the handle and pushed the door open before jumping down and setting out the steps herself.
Bella had never seen such a thing and realised in a flash that she was very far from Pemberley indeed.
She stepped down gingerly and looked about her.
The view, smell and noise were not improved by her new vantage point.
Clara looked at her and seemed to make a quick calculation in her mind.
"I will secure us lodgings, miss," she said, and without waiting for an answer, she dashed off through the bustle of the yard, dodging horses and men as she went.
Jo approached carrying Bella's valise and Clara's small trunk. "There you are now, missus," he said, dropping both at her feet. He looked at her expectantly, though it took Bella a moment to grasp his meaning.
"You will not carry our cases inside?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"The arrangement was to take you as far as Birmingham," he said, his face impassive. "And this be Birmingham right enough."
"But this inn..." Bella began.
"Is an inn in Birmingham," he said firmly, holding out one slightly grubby hand, palm upwards, to illustrate his meaning.
Bella realised she was facing a losing battle and pressed the agreed coins into his palm.
She hesitated before adding a little more.
"For your trouble," she said in a small voice.
It was a gesture she had often seen her father make, and the man had helped her, even if the outcome was not exactly what she had expected.
Jo's well-lined face softened slightly as he pocketed the coins and pulled at his cap. "Safe travels, miss." He then led the horses and carriage towards the stables, presumably to make arrangements for his own return journey.
Bella remained where she was, the luggage at her feet and the bustle of the courtyard continuing around her as though she were not there at all.
She had always been made to feel important, cherished by her family and admired, or at the very least coveted, by strangers.
Here she was an anonymous Miss and no one was paying a blind bit of notice to her.
She could not decide whether she loved or loathed this strange shifting of her place in the world.
It was the oddest sensation, to feel herself somehow in the middle of this adventure, or misadventure, before she knew that she had begun.
She was just wondering whether she ought to attempt to remove the luggage herself when she spotted Clara's fiery hair bobbing through the yard.
Her maid came to an abrupt halt before her, grinning widely, and a small, skinny boy of no more than eleven appeared from behind her skirts.
He wore dusty breeches and a frayed waistcoat and said nothing to Bella, merely giving a perfunctory bow before picking up the luggage, which almost reached the top of his head.
He set off on a slightly wobbly path towards a doorway Bella assumed must lead into the inn proper, though it was as drab and nondescript as the rest of the yard.
"Come, miss," Clara encouraged.
Bella trailed after her maid, her misgivings growing when a man with very few teeth leered at her in an alarming fashion as she passed him.
She tried her best to give him a haughty stare, but hurried her step after Clara and stepped into a dim hallway lit by tallow candles that gave off a most off-putting scent.
She grasped at the heart-shaped locket from her parents that she still wore around her neck and sent up a small prayer that she would endure this journey and reach her aunt Lydia safely.
She added a second request that her family would not worry for her too much, although she knew that one was in vain.
She followed Clara into a large bar area, where the ceilings were low and the floors strewn with hay. A man in a dirty apron stood behind the counter. He had a large, red, meaty face and a quantity of dark hair sprouting from his ears that Bella found faintly alarming.
"Here she be," Clara said brightly as Bella approached. "This is my mistress, Miss Bennet. I've told Mr Clegg here that we'll be needin' the chamber for the night."
Mr Clegg looked Bella over with a gleam in his eye that felt vaguely predatory. "Aye. Your girl says you'll be wanting lodgings."
"That is correct," said Bella, drawing herself up a little. "And I should also like to arrange a post-chaise and driver for the morning. We wish to continue south at first light."
Mr Clegg rested his forearms on the counter and smiled revealing crooked, yellow teeth. "Do you now, Miss?"
Bella felt like tiny insects were crawling over her skin. She fought the urge to turn away from his gaze. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Can that be arranged, Mr Clegg?"
"Depends where you're wanting to go."
"That need not concern you. I only require a reliable carriage and driver."
His smile broadened. "Pretty young lady travelling without a husband or father ought to find plenty of gentlemen willing to take her wherever she wants to go."
Bella frowned. "I do not require a gentleman. I require a post-chaise."
Beside her, Clara made a small choking sound. Bella turned towards her, but Clara had suddenly become very interested in examining the counter.
It took Bella another moment to understand, and when she did, heat rushed into her cheeks. "Your meaning is quite improper."
"Only havin' a bit of fun, miss."
"I do not find you amusing in the slightest."
Clara caught her lightly by the sleeve before she could say anything more. "We've got the room, miss. Best we get settled, and I'll see about some supper."
"Payment first," he said as they turned away. And Bella was certain he was enjoying being quite so disagreeable.
Bella stopped and looked back at him. "I assure you, sir, I am quite able to pay you in full."
"Now," he said, his stare turning flinty. "I don't know you two from Adam. Who knows what mischief you're up to? Very unusual, a young lady gaddin' about unaccompanied."
Bella wanted very badly to tell Mr Clegg exactly what she thought of him, but there was something unusually firm in Clara's expression. She settled instead for fixing him with her coldest stare and placing the requisite coins on the bar before allowing herself to be steered towards the stairs.
"You had already spoken to that man?" she whispered as they began to climb.
"I ‘ave, miss."
"And you still took the room?"
Clara glanced back at her. "It's near dark, miss. He's unpleasant to be sure, but not any real danger. Anyway, it’s only for the night and we will be gone in a few hours. Come on quickly now, our luggage should already be in the room and I will ensure you are settled."
Bella thought she should never be able to be truly settled in such an establishment, but she obediently followed along after Clara, who hurried up a dark staircase and along an even darker corridor before opening a door into a small chamber at the rear of the inn. Bella stopped on the threshold.
There were two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls, both covered with faded counterpanes of an indeterminate brownish colour.
A washstand stood beneath the window with a chipped basin and ewer, while a single wooden chair occupied the space beside a little grate in which a small fire glowed weakly.
The room smelt strongly of damp, smoke and something musky Bella could not quite identify and had no wish to investigate.
The window overlooked the stable yard, although so much grime had collected on the glass that the lamps now lit below appeared as blurred patches of yellow light.
Clara immediately began to unpack Bella’s small valise and arrange her things on the washstand, and Bella felt awkward and in the way. She sat gingerly on the bed and winced at the thinness of the mattress. She could feel the frame through it clearly and wondered how she would ever get any rest.
"Would you be liking me to request a tray for supper, miss?" said Clara over her shoulder as she worked.
Bella looked around her. She had no desire to remain confined to this depressing little room, though the thought of eating downstairs did not fill her with much enthusiasm either. "Is there a private dining room?" she asked with more hope than expectation.
Clara looked at her. "There is a smaller dining room, though not private. But I recommend we eat up here, miss. I cannot guarantee the quality of the company."