much was also clear.
What had she to do with his uncle? From what he had seen Miss Bailey’s mother had been a good-looking girl in her youth. Could his uncle have had a liaison with the mother only twenty or twenty-five years ago?
Robert tried to calculate Miss Bailey’s age and his uncle’s likely age when she had been born. He frowned. It was possible, though unlikely.
He glanced at her again.
My, she is beautiful!
He shifted slightly in his seat. As a servant, she needed no chaperone to accompany her. Not that she should need one. As a gentleman he had vowed to protect her and he would do so. He must. Honour required it.
He frowned. He had not brought a footman on the journey, preferring to make his own travel arrangements, so they would be alone apart from the various postilions who would steer the horses as they journeyed.
In blithely assuring Lady Kingswood of his good behaviour he had not known the temptation which was to follow. The temptation currently sitting opposite him, wearing a fine grey dress that hugged her form.
Some gentlemen, he knew, entered into liaisons with willing servants and ensured they did not suffer afterwards. This generally amounted to ensuring they gained another suitable post and that any children resulting from the association were brought up in suitable safety and comfort.
He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Viewing Miss Bailey’s innocent face—currently she was gazing at the passing landscape—he could not imagine anyone being so lacking in principle as to pursue her for an irregular relationship. Despite her possible origins she had clearly been raised by good people with strong moral values. Everything about her—her demeanour, her demure clothing, her reserved conversation and the complete absence of anything resembling flirtation—confirmed it.
Shockingly, he found himself wishing she was otherwise...
‘I am sorry, sir. Nuthin’ I can do about it.’
The innkeeper’s face was twisted with concern—as well it might be. Mr Kendal’s expression was thunderous.
This is all about me.
Jane, used to remaining unseen and unnoticed, was deeply uncomfortable at this unwarranted attention.
‘I specifically requested two bedchambers,’ Mr Kendal repeated.
‘That you did, sir,’ the landlord acknowledged. ‘But I got your letter just this afternoon and I only have the one room free.’ He glanced at Jane’s servant garb. ‘Your servant may share a room with our chambermaids, if you like. We have three of them in the one room, with a spare bed free.’
A perfectly suitable arrangement! Jane breathed a sigh of relief.
Mr Kendal, however, was not to be diverted so easily.
‘Or Miss Bailey could have the bedchamber and I could sleep somewhere else.’
Jane gasped. ‘I am quite content with the innkeeper’s suggestion, sir. I am well used to sharing a bedchamber with other female servants.’
His gaze swivelled towards her, grey eyes meeting blue. ‘But...’ He frowned. ‘It does not seem right.’
Has he forgotten I am a serving maid?
‘It is entirely reasonable, sir.’
He looked confused, then nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you have the right of it.’ He turned back to the landlord. ‘Very well. I should also like a private parlour for dinner.’
‘Yes, sir. That I have got.’
The innkeeper’s relief was palpable. Taking a key from a cupboard behind him, and a lighted candlestick from the table, he led Mr Kendal up a twisting narrow staircase to the upper floor. Jane trailed behind, hovering on the narrow landing as Mr Kendal followed the innkeeper into his allocated bedchamber.
The landlord lit a branch of tall wax candles from his single one, casting warm light around the room. Moving to the fireplace, he lit the fire that had been set there. From her position in the dark corridor Jane glanced around. The chamber looked spacious, comfortable and clean.
‘Would it please you to dine in one hour, sir?’ The innkeeper paused, awaiting his guest’s response.
Mr Kendal consulted his pocket watch. ‘Very well. Er... Miss Bailey?’
Jane started. She moved to the doorway. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I shall expect you to dine with me.’
‘Yes, Mr Kendal.’
He frowned. ‘That is to say I should like to request that you dine with me.’
Jane’s brow creased in bewilderment. What was the difference? ‘Yes, sir.’
‘But, no, I...’ He glanced at the landlord, whose puzzled expression mirrored Jane’s own. ‘Never mind.’
Jane considered the matter as she followed the landlord to the servants’ quarters, but was unable to fathom Mr Kendal’s meaning.
‘Here you go, miss.’ The innkeeper opened the door at the top of the attic stairs and stepped inside.
Jane followed, shivering as a blast of icy air hit her.
‘A bit draughty in here, mind, but once all the others are in here with you it will soon warm up. They are all busy below, and shall be until around ten o’clock.’ He lit a small tallow candle, which sputtered in the draught. ‘This bed is free.’ He pointed to a slightly stained pallet—the second in a row of four to Jane’s left. ‘I shall send up a sheet and a blanket for you later.’
‘Thank you.’
The door closed behind him and Jane sank down onto the thin pallet. Oh, how she ached from being stuck in the jolting carriage for most of the day! The pallet was nothing to her comfortable bed at Ledbury House, but was typical of servants’ accommodation in less wholesome establishments.
Reaching for the tallow candle, she carefully inspected the pallet for lice and fleas. There were none visible, which gave her some hope. They might not survive in a room this cold.
She shivered again. Nor might I!
Carefully she searched in her bandbox for her woollen stockings and put them on, on top of the thin pair she was already wearing. Keeping her cloak on, she wrapped it tightly about her, but decided to remove her bonnet as the straw was beginning to scratch at her scalp.
Drawing the hood of her cloak up, she concentrated on watching her breath fog the air in front of her and, despite the cold, on enjoying not being in a moving carriage.
Finally—thankfully—she judged that almost an hour had passed, based on the tallow candle having shrunk to half its length. She unfolded her legs and stood up slowly. Since sunset the
