Chapter Seven #3
Conversation nearby began to falter. Bella saw several heads turn, but the gentleman's fingers remained firmly around her wrist and he did not so much as acknowledge that Clara had spoken. His attention was fixed hungrily on Bella, and she was close enough to smell the sour alcohol on his breath.
Clara gave a small sigh. "Right then."
Before Bella had any notion of what she intended, Clara reached across the table, caught hold of the gentleman's smallest finger and bent it sharply backwards. He gave an undignified yelp and released Bella at once, his whole body twisting towards Clara as he attempted to retrieve his hand. She twisted it more firmly and addressed him sharply. "It ain’t very gentlemanly, puttin’ your hands on a lady. "
"What the devil are you doing, you harpy?!"
"Something I learnt in Bristol," Clara said pleasantly, releasing him. "Works better if they've been drinkin' and in that case I am most obliged to you." She gave a mocking curtsey as the man clutched his hand to his chest.
Despite the unpleasant pounding of her heart, Bella almost laughed. She had no difficulty imagining Clara perfecting the manoeuvre during her years at the singular establishment she had described in the coach.
The commotion had finally attracted the attention of Mr Clegg, who appeared in the doorway from the bar, wiping his hands on his now even more filthy apron.
He surveyed the scene, taking in Bella standing beside the table, Clara looking pleased with herself and the gentleman nursing his hand with an expression of injured outrage.
"For God's sake, Hargreaves," he said wearily. "Up to your old tricks again?"
"I was doing nothing of the sort. This little demon attacked me."
"You had hold of my mistress," Clara said indignantly. "And I ain’t no demon. You sound like Father McGonagal and he always was prone to over-eggin’ the puddin’."
Mr Clegg looked at the gentleman, who did not answer, then at Bella. His expression suggested that this was all a great inconvenience to him. "Hargreaves, leave the ladies be. You've been warned before."
Bella expected that to be the end of it, but Mr Clegg turned his attention to her and frowned.
"And you, miss, if you're determined to wander about the country without father, husband or proper escort, you'd do well to show a little more caution about who you fall into conversation with.
Not every gentleman who smiles at you means well. "
Bella could scarcely believe her ears. "I did not invite him to my table. I repeatedly asked him to leave, and he took hold of me when I attempted to do so myself."
"Aye, well, I'm only saying you need to take care."
"And I am only saying that perhaps you ought to direct your advice towards the man who has apparently been warned about his reprehensible behaviour before rather than the woman he saw fit to accost."
For a moment Mr Clegg simply stared at her. From somewhere near the fire came a poorly concealed snort of laughter, and Bella had the satisfaction of seeing his meaty face deepen several shades towards purple.
"Come, Clara," she said, gathering what remained of her dignity along with her reticule. "I find I have quite lost my appetite."
"Shame," Clara muttered as she followed. "Puddin' looked decent."
???
Bella followed Clara up the dark staircase mindless of her surroundings, her thoughts overwhelmed by how close she had come to harm.
This was her first night away from Pemberley and she had already come close to injury or abduction.
How could she expect to continue on safely?
What if she was not putting only herself but also Clara in danger?
She could send an express and be home within twenty-four hours.
But the thought of failing in her trip when she had only just begun felt almost as worrisome as the dangers she faced.
Once inside their chamber, Clara locked the door and immediately began dragging the single wooden chair across the floor. It was old and heavy and made an ear-splitting screeching sound as she pulled it over the uneven floorboards.
"What are you doing?"
"Makin’ sure we are undisturbed."
Bella looked at the chair, then towards the door. "You surely do not think he will follow us upstairs."
"No, miss. Probably not." Clara shoved the chair firmly beneath the handle before straightening. "But no sense finding out."
Bella sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her wrist again.
She thought back over the conversation in the dining room and felt a fresh wave of annoyance, this time directed at herself.
Was she such a green girl? The princess who had come down from the tower and could not do anything unaided. "I thought he was being helpful."
Clara began pulling pins from her hair. "He were askin' too many questions."
"People ask questions all the time. How am I to know who has nefarious intentions and who does not?"
"But he weren't much interested in where you were going. He wanted to know who was waitin' for you. Wanted to know if there was a man somewhere who'd come lookin' if you didn't turn up."
For several moments she sat quietly, listening to the muffled sounds of the inn below.
At Pemberley there was always someone who knew where she was.
A maid, a groom, her sisters or one of her parents.
She had spent years chafing against that attention and imagining how wonderful it would feel to go somewhere nobody knew who she was.
Nobody in Birmingham knew who she was. Nobody knew where she ought to be, or who would worry if she did not arrive at her destination.
The freedom she had imagined so many times felt less attractive from the edge of a thin mattress in a dirty room with a chair wedged beneath the door.
Clara stood beside her as Bella sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to remove the pins from her hair.
Bella had dressed it herself that morning in a far simpler style than Marie would ever have permitted, and after a full day in the coach most of the curls had already begun to loosen.
There was no dressing table, only the chipped washstand beneath the window, so Clara worked carefully where Bella sat, easing free the remaining pins one by one.
Bella felt another uncomfortable twist of guilt.
It was one thing to place herself in danger through foolishness or lack of experience.
It was quite another to drag Clara into it when the girl did not even know the truth of their situation.
"Clara," she said slowly, "I have not been entirely honest with you."
Clara's hands stilled briefly in her hair, though she did not look a bit surprised. "I thought as much, miss," she said in a level tone as she began to run a brush through Bella’s long tresses.
"My aunt is not ill, nor is she expecting me.
I am going to Falmouth because I need to see her, but nobody knows that I am travelling there.
" Bella twisted her fingers together in her lap.
"I should have told you before we left Ashbourne.
You agreed to come with me because you believed I was making an ordinary journey to visit a relative, and it is becoming increasingly obvious that I am completely out of my depth. "
Clara lowered her hand and regarded her thoughtfully. "Your family don't know you've gone, do they, miss?"
Clara gave a small nod, as though this confirmed something she had already suspected. Bella braced herself for reproach, but none came.
"I am not running away," she added, uncertain if that information was helpful.
Clara's eyebrows rose but she did not answer immediately. She collected up the pins from the counterpane and set them on the washstand, then sat down on the opposite bed with her hands folded in her lap. "Is there a gentleman involved, someone you're runnin' off to meet?"
"There most certainly is not." Bella felt her face heat.
Clara looked relieved. "That's something, then."
Bella felt defensive. She may have done something rash, but she was not a wanton. "Why would you assume there was?"
"Because there usually is when a young woman disappears without tellin' her family."
Bella thought of the establishment in Bristol and decided she probably did not want to know how many young women Clara had seen disappearing after unsuitable gentlemen.
"I am going to see my aunt because I need some distance from my family," Bella said. "That is all."
Clara's eyes widened. "Did they beat you, miss?"
"No."
"Were they cruel to you?"
"No."
Clara frowned, clearly searching for another explanation. "Are they tryin' to marry you off to some crusty old fella?"
"No," said Bella, realising that put that way, her own reasons did sound rather feeble.
Clara studied her for a moment longer before shrugging. "Well, you should've told me, miss. But you've told me now."
Bella waited, uncertain whether that was the whole of her answer. "And?"
"And I'm still comin'."
Bella felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. "You are quite certain?"
"Certain enough. Though if we're doin' this, you might let me do a bit more of the talkin' when strange men start asking where we're headed."
Bella could not help smiling. She had left Pemberley determined to prove that she could manage perfectly well without her parents arranging every detail of her life, and it was mildly mortifying to discover, less than two days later, that she was already extremely grateful for a maid she had known barely a day.
Perhaps there was a difference between doing things for oneself and insisting on doing absolutely everything alone.
It sounded like something Papa would say. The thought brought a sudden ache of homesickness and Bella reached instinctively for the locket at her throat. She hoped he was not too angry with her. Worse, she hoped he was not afraid for her.
She could not think about that now. She had Clara, and they had overcome any challenges they had faced so far. Tomorrow they would continue south, together.