‘Oh, very many, but I like this one,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘The company is so congenial.’
Chapter Three
The inn was an extremely busy one and Louise wondered if she and Betty would be able to obtain a room to themselves, but while she was trying to persuade the innkeeper to find one for her, Jonathan stepped in and offered his room, which a few sovereigns had already procured. ‘I will take whatever mine host can find for me,’ he told her. ‘I can sleep anywhere.’
She hesitated—she did not like being beholden to this man. It was not just pride, but the feeling that before long he would penetrate her disguise and know her for what she was and then he would have his fun with her and everyone would know she was a female and she would look foolish and vulnerable. She did not want that, but on the other hand, sharing a room with men was something she most certainly could not do. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘I would not mind for myself, but my wife is nervous of being alone, you see…’ She looked at Betty, who was once again chattering to Joe and not looking at all nervous.
‘I understand.’ he said, assuming the young man was jealous and not inclined to let his wife out of his sight. If she really was his wife. ‘You are welcome.’
Louise and Betty were conducted upstairs to a spacious room that looked out on to the busy yard. Water was brought for them to wash. Louise stripped off and sponged herself down, but the clothes had to be put on again. The only others she had were feminine garments. She smiled suddenly, wondering what Mr Linton would say if he could see the contents of her bag. It might be fun to change and appear as Miss Louise Vail. She imagined him staring at her in disbelief and then smiling and kissing her hand and saying he liked her much better as a woman. She suddenly became cross with herself for thinking like that. It was pure fantasy and she was doing herself no favours indulging in it.
They went down to the dining room for supper and found themselves again sitting with Jonathan Linton and Joe Potton. Burrows and Williams were a little further down the table. Louise was beginning to perfect her masculine voice, but she did not use it any more than she had to. Mr Linton’s attempts to engage her in conversation were met with little more than polite monosyllables. When he offered her a dish, she took some from it and said, ‘Thank you, sir’, and when he commented on the fine weather, she said, ‘Very fine, sir.’ She thought she was doing well until the meal ended and Burrows suggested they continue the game of cards abandoned the night before. ‘You must give us the opportunity to recoup some of our losses, Smith,’ he said.
‘I did not win so much,’ she said, pretending indifference. ‘’Twas only a trifling amount.’
‘A trifling amount,’ he repeated. ‘Then let us put up the stakes.’ He turned to Jonathan. ‘Will you join us in a game for trifling stakes?’
Jonathan considered declining, but they would only ask someone else, and he wanted to be near the boy, if only to protect him if his losses became too great and he found himself at odds with his playing partners. He accepted, cards were called for, the seal broken and the game began.
Louise was careful, very careful, especially as the half-guinea stake was now a guinea. If she lost all her money, what, in heaven’s name would she do, stranded miles from her objective and with home so far behind her it seemed like another life? Some way must be devised to end the game before that happened. They would not allow her to plead tiredness as she had the evening before.
They played several hands in which she won a little and lost a little, mainly due to inattention. ‘Mr Linton, I could have sworn you held no more trumps,’ she said after he had trumped her winning hand.
‘Are you accusing me of cheating?’ It was said angrily.
Now what to say? She had not meant to accuse him, simply to point out that her concentration had momentarily lapsed. Admit it and let them walk all over her? Tell them she was too tired to go on? She shrugged. ‘If the cap fits, Mr Linton…’
The boy had nerve, more than he would have dared under the circumstances, Jonathan conceded. ‘I have no cap, Mr Smith. Nor anything up my sleeve.’ He shook his sleeves out one by one to prove it.
‘God’s truth, the young shaver’s bold as brass,’ Bill Williams put in. ‘Call him out, Linton. You can’t let him get away with calling you a cheat. I’ll stand second for you.’
The whole thing was getting out of hand and Jonathan wanted to bring it to a speedy conclusion, but he had been insulted and he was not in the habit of letting anyone, least of all a green bantling, get away with that. He hesitated. ‘Go on,’ Charlie Burrows urged him, while Louise held her breath. ‘You are not afraid of that skinny young cub, are you?’
Frowning inwardly, Jonathan took a deep breath and addressed Louise. ‘You give me no choice, sir. I must call you out.’ It was either that or be accused of cowardice, which was unacceptable to him.
How on earth had she got into such a pickle? Louise asked herself. She wanted to turn and run all the way back to Barnet. Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined something like this. The teasing and banter that went on when she played her brothers for pennies and shillings had not schooled her for such a situation. She should never have started to play either yesterday or today. Now what was she to do? Admit herself in the wrong and take the ridicule of everyone in the room, not only the other players but everyone else who had stopped whatever they were doing, to listen and wait. And she would have to abandon her winnings. She had been counting on those.
‘You give me no choice either, sir,’ she said. ‘I accept.’
‘You accept?’ he asked in astonishment, then to give the boy a way out, added, ‘I will take a simple apology in lieu.’
She was nothing if not stubborn. ‘Would that not be tantamount to admitting I am in the wrong?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but you are.’
‘Stop beatin’ about the bush, Linton,’ Williams said. ‘Mr Smith, as Mr Linton’s representative, I ask you to name your second and choose your weapon.’
‘Swords,’ she said without hesitation. Unless Mr Linton was particularly cruel and determined, he would not deal more than a glancing blow, just enough to draw blood, before saying he was satisfied. A pistol shot could kill without him meaning it to. Why she thought he did not want to kill her, she did not know. And in the last few days she had become more than a little reckless. As for a second…She looked round the room. ‘Will anyone here stand by me?’
‘I will,’ Joe said, at a nod from Jonathan.
‘I’m not having duels on my premises,’ the innkeeper said. ‘If you must fight, take yourselves off somewhere else. There is a field on the other side of the river just outside town. Go there.’
‘It’s too dark now,’ Bill Williams said. ‘We will meet there at dawn.’
‘I will take charge of the pot,’ the innkeeper said, scooping it up. ‘You can have it back tomorrow.’
Louise went up to her room to find Betty taking up most of the bed and snoring her head off. Should she wake her and insist they leave at once? Where would they go if she did? And did she really want to be branded a coward? Would they come after her and exact their pound of flesh anyway? Why, oh, why had she been so foolish as to start this escapade in the first place? If her parents had not been out when she returned to the house after the shock of hearing what she had, if she had been able to speak to them there and then instead of being alone to stew over it, she might not have done what she had. Now it was too late.
She sat on the edge of the bed and let the tears roll down her cheeks. They were the first tears she had shed since sitting alone in the arbour. She had been so determined to find her lost mother, she had given herself no time for tears, no time for reflection or considering where it was all going to lead. If only she could have confided in Luke, he might have come