CHAPTER SIX
The morning brought Mab, released from her duties at the Bear, and big with news that could only serve to increase Grace’s disquiet.
She was thankful Reuben was upstairs, holding Henri too involved in his toilette to think of coming down to breakfast. The last thing she needed was for this to reach his ears.
“Everyone knows as how them Frenchies were here yesterday, along of Mr Wooferton. You should hear how they’re all saying they guessed the wounded feller were a Frenchie all along, as if there weren’t no clue to it when them others started questioning folks hereabouts.
Easy to be wise after the event, and aren’t they just?
Never heard so many tales as they’ve managed to make up amongst them. ”
Grace eyed her with misgiving, perceiving signs of genuine distress under Mab’s habitual complaining manner. “What sort of tales?”
A flush stained her old nurse’s cheeks. “Such as I’d not sully your ears with, Miss Grace, if I didn’t think it my duty.”
“Go on.”
But Mab was not to be persuaded to get to the point without roundaboutation, which did not make Grace the least bit easier in her mind.
“It’s as well I married Mr Lamport, despite his ailing at just the wrong moment, for it’s the speediest route by which news travels, either from ours to Mr Wooferton’s or in the other direction. ”
Grace was well aware gossip travelled fastest via those who laboured in Rainham but lived over East Hall way.
They picked up talk in the Black Horse in the daylight hours, and brought it back to the Bear in the evening, and vice versa.
Likewise, the errand boys, who travelled between the villages throughout the day, dropping in at one or other hostelry to refresh themselves.
It came as no surprise that accounts of what had transpired the day before were already doing the rounds, doubtless with embellishments.
A sense of deep foreboding entered Grace’s breast.
“What is being said, Mab?”
A glum look settled in the old nurse’s features. “There’s a deal of argufying as to what them Frenchies want with him, and more on what Mr Wooferton should do about them. I was minded to ask them why they didn’t go to Sir James and tell him his business, if they knew so much.”
“Mab, will you please tell me what is troubling you?”
They were seated at the table, Jemima having brought in Grace’s tea just as Mab arrived.
A second cup was immediately requested, which the nurse had consented to drink, though not without expressing disapproval of Grace’s free and easy ways.
Grace could only be thankful her old nurse had not remarked her unnecessary change to the green calico gown, prompted by a foolish conceit after last night that she hardly cared to think about.
Grace watched the nurse raise the cup to her lips and swallow down some of the hot tea, as if she needed a restorative before she could bring herself to discharge what was in her mind. Then she set down the cup, letting out a defeated sigh.
“It’s got about as you stopped Mr Mayberry and Mr Wooferton from taking yon Frenchie into custody. And them nodcocks as say it seem to think they know why.”
“Well, why?”
Mab’s tone resumed its usual belligerence. “It couldn’t be as the fellow ain’t fit to be moved, oh no, though you’d think anyone with a brain in his head would suppose it. But, no. It’s just as I foretold how it would be from the outset, Miss Grace.”
Grace’s perturbation intensified as the nurse lowered her voice.
“They’re saying as it ain’t natural for a single lady to wish to keep a gennelman in her house for a whole week, not unless they’d some sort of understanding.
Not that they blame you, Miss Grace. If he weren’t French, some of them would be that pleased, far as I can tell.
Think it’s what you deserve and you had ought to have a man to look after you, which I ain’t in disagreement with.
Others hold you choosing a foreigner to be a disgrace, though they were all for fixing the wedding day in spite of it.
Only by what I heard, there ain’t one of them as supposes you ain’t cheated parson’s mousetrap.
Or if you haven’t, it won’t be long before you do. ”
“In other words,” said Grace, “they think Henri and I are already lovers.”
Curiously, she was less infuriated by the gossip, with its blatant assumption of her lack of morals, than by the villagers taking it upon themselves to decide her future.
She knew her living alone was generally disapproved of, and it had been relayed to her enough times that the villagers held it to be a shame her disability should prevent her finding a husband.
But to have married her off in this ridiculous fashion was a great deal too bad.
As if a man like Henri Rousselle could not do better for himself.
But the memory of that fleeting kiss last night could not but obtrude, sending a sneaking ray of unfounded hope rising into her bosom.
Foolish though it was, Grace found it hard to shake off.
Had she not berated herself with strong common sense last night, when her loins would persist in defying every vestige of reasoning?
She knew it was ridiculous to refine upon a kiss given for comfort. It had meant nothing more.
Those endearments he had uttered, treacherously returning to torment her, were not to be taken seriously.
Henri had been addressing her lightly as ma chère for days.
A familiarity no more intimate than that used to her by Sir James Levisham, who invariably also called her “my dear”.
But in French, and coming from Henri, Grace felt it as a caress.
Despite her conviction Henri could not have meant to encourage her to suppose he liked her more than as his saviour.
Friend, perhaps. But, lover? It was not to be thought upon, and to the devil with those gossiping tongues who knew nothing of his handsome looks and his darkly secretive past.
Besides, she had every expectation he would be leaving her today.
Leaving here, she corrected herself, thrusting down on the pain engendered by this thought.
Wooferton was likely seeking Sir James at this very moment.
Grace fully expected him to return, armed with his warrant and accompanied by Doctor Ffrith, this very afternoon.
A belief that held her in a trance-like state of mind, until the arrival of Joe Piper less than an hour later. Let in by his daughter to the parlour where Grace had settled down to work, he lost no time in delivering extremely welcome tidings.
“Mr Mayberry sent me to say as Sir James went off to the coast near a se’nnight since to stay with his daughter and the Reverend. He ain’t expected back for two more days.”
A leap of joy shot into Grace’s bosom. “Then Wooferton cannot get his warrant!”
“No, and them Frenchies are wishful to remove from the Three Crowns down Rainham Creek Mouth and have upped and arst Wooferton for rooms at the Black Horse.”
“He ain’t never going to let them stay there, is he, Pa?” demanded Jemima, shocked.
“He has no choice, Jemima,” Grace pointed out over her own dismay. “As long as he has rooms, he cannot refuse to accommodate them. As excise officer, Mr Wooferton is bound to keep to the law.”
Jemima snorted. “Who’s to say he has got rooms then? For my money, nobody ain’t going to report him if he refuses to put up no Frenchman.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my girl,” pronounced her father loftily. “There’s them as hold grudges agin Wooferton, seeing he’s done ’em for brandy smuggling. ’Sides an’ all, Wooferton ’ud rather have ’em at his place so as to keep his eye on their movements.”
Grace found some comfort in this, although it did not augur well for Loriot’s belief in her story. “Is that all your message from Mayberry, Joe?”
Piper eyed her a trifle askance, his sharp face watchful. “I dunno, Miss Grace. He said owt to me, but I dunno if’n he meant for me to repeat it.”
“If it’s good for Miss Grace to hear, Pa,” chimed in Jemima, “you just go on and tell her, and never mind what Mr Mayberry means.”
Her father cast her a glance of faint contempt, but paid her no further heed, his attention all for Grace. She met his gaze steadily. “There can be little to be said worse than I have heard already, Joe. Pray understand all my concern is for Henri’s safety and nothing else.”
“Then it won’t hurt none if I happens to mention as it’s Mr Mayberry’s say-so as the feller is better off here than otherwhere.
No knowing, says he, when them Frenchies might take it into their heads to come nosing round again, and no one ain’t more fitted to keep ’em off the scent than Miss Grace, says he. ”
Jemima beamed. “There now, I knew you had ought to hear it.”
Two days. Three, by the time they had the necessary warrant and could come to fetch the fugitive.
They could not be here before Saturday, and if luck was with her, Sunday might well intervene.
Time at least for Henri to recover his strength.
Time for her to think of a way to keep him out of the clutches of authority.
And time for her to keep him by her, to see him, touch him now and then, and to know he was alive.
“What about Doctor Ffrith?” she asked, recalling another of Wooferton’s intentions.
“He’s to come along ’twixt now and then, for he says as how he ought look at the wound in any event afore Wooferton and Mayberry get their warrant.”
And there was little doubt he would pronounce Henri fit to be moved, since it had been his wish to remove him from the first. There was nothing to be done about that. For the moment, the reprieve was all in all to her.
It was Jemima who voiced an oddity. “Wonder why Sir James never come to see you afore he went, Miss Grace. Might have been as you wished to send a message to the Reverend.”
“Yes, that is curious,” Grace conceded, and immediately noted Piper’s expression. “Oh, what is it? Is there something wrong at my brother’s?”