Joanna parted with some reluctance from the comforts of the White Hart the next morning. She was anxious to be on her way and to reach Georgy, but the inn and its motherly landlady, Mrs Handley, had seemed safe; although she would never have admitted it, Joanna was feeling lonely and not a little frightened.
Still, she was taken up by the stage without any problem and Mrs Handley had come out herself to see her off and to remind her which inn in Peterborough to get off at in order to pick up the Lynn stage, which would drop her in Wisbech.
She eyed her new travelling companions from under the brim of her modest bonnet and was reassured by the sight of a stout farmer’s wife with a basket, a thin young man who promptly fell asleep and a middle-aged gentleman in clerical collar and bands who politely raised his hat to her as she got on.
‘I trust I do not intrude,’ he ventured after a few moments, ‘but I heard the good landlady directing you to the Crown and Anchor and I wonder if I might be of assistance? My name is Thoroughgood, Reverend Thaddeus Thoroughgood, and I am changing at that point myself as I do very frequently. I would be most happy to point out the stage office and so forth when we arrive.’
Joanna thanked him politely, somewhat nervous that he might want to continue talking to her, for conversation with a strange man, even a most respectable-looking clergyman, on a public stage was not what she had been brought up to regard as ladylike behaviour. However, the good reverend did not say any more and she thanked him and leaned back, feeling happier now she knew she had a guide should she need one.
They stopped once on the short distance to Peterborough. What with the exit of the stout farmer’s wife whose basket somehow got jammed in the doorway, the Reverend Thoroughgood getting up to assist her, slipping on the step and falling heavily against Joanna, and the thin young man leaping up to help everyone, it proved a somewhat chaotic halt. However, they were soon at the Crown and Anchor and the Reverend Thoroughgood helped her down with her valise.
‘Now, I shall go and collect my gig,’ he said chattily, ‘and be off home to Sister. You just need to go through that door there and you’ll find our good hostess and a nice parlour and she’ll tell you when the Lynn coach comes in. Now, you do have enough money, do you not, my dear young lady?’
‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ Joanna replied, confidently. Then, ‘My purse! It has gone!’
‘Great heavens!’ the clergyman exclaimed. ‘That young man must have been a cutpurse! Mrs Wilkins! Mrs Wilkins!’
The landlady came hurrying out, wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled at the sight of Hebe’s companion. ‘There you are again, Reverend. Your gig is all ready for you. But, sir—’ she broke off at the sight of their agitation ‘—what’s about?’
‘My money has been stolen,’ Joanna lamented. ‘This gentleman thinks it was a cutpurse on the stage.’
‘Well now, miss,’ the landlady said sympathetically, ‘that’s a dreadful thing. Why, there is no stopping the impudent rascals. That’s the third time we’ve seen that happen, is it not, Reverend?’ She patted Joanna’s arm. ‘We had better be telling the magistrate, miss.’
‘But that won’t get my purse back,’ Joanna stammered. ‘What am I going to do? I have to get to Wisbech.’
There was a silence, then the clergyman said, ‘Normally I would not suggest it, of course, but as I have an open gig, and it is still broad daylight, would you consider riding with me to my home where my sister awaits me? You can spend the night most securely under her protection and then in the morning we can consider what is best. To write to your friends in Wisbech, perhaps? Or I may have a neighbour who is driving that way.’
‘There now, that is a good idea,’ the landlady said approvingly.
Joanna bit her lip. It did seem the best of the alternatives, for the clergyman appeared well known and trusted at the inn and he obviously kept his gig there frequently. A clergyman’s sister sounded a most respectable chaperon…
And there was the benefit of it taking her off the main road in case of pursuit. She made up her mind. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said decisively. ‘If Miss Thoroughgood would not find it an imposition, I would be most grateful.’
The gig was well kept and pulled by a neat black pony and Joanna felt happier as they progressed at a brisk trot through the lanes. The loss of her money was serious, but at least she was not too many miles from Georgy, who was not only the possessor of a vastly generous allowance but was indulged by her husband as to the spending of it. As soon as she knew of Joanna’s predicament, she was sure to send both funds and her carriage at once.
The Reverend Thoroughgood did not seem anxious to ask personal questions or to make encroaching observations, so Joanna was emboldened to introduce herself. ‘I should tell you a little of my circumstances, sir, for I am sure Miss Thoroughgood will not wish to take a total stranger into her home. My name is J…Jane Wilson and I am a governess on my way to my new employer in Wisbech, Lady Brandon.’
It felt shocking to be lying to a man of the cloth, but he would hardly assist her if he knew the truth.
‘We must see you on your way as soon as possible, Miss Wilson,’ the reverend said, turning down another lane. Joanna was becoming a little confused. The lanes must be more than usually meandering hereabouts, she decided, for it seemed they must be driving in a circle. ‘No doubt but that Lady Brandon will be anxious for you to begin to teach her children, and equally your friends and family will be concerned to hear of your safe arrival.’
Joanna bit her lip. It would look odd indeed if the only letter she sent during her enforced stay with the Thoroughgoods was to Lady Brandon. ‘I do not have any family,’ she said, trying to sound brave but lonely. ‘And no close friends. A governess’s life is a solitary one, I am afraid.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ the Reverend Thoroughgood said solemnly. ‘You must turn for consolation to the thought of the good you are doing and the Christian learning you are bringing to young and tender minds.’
‘Oh, yes, quite.’ Joanna felt that any further discussion of this would be dangerous. She must recall all she could of her own governesses before venturing into conversation on their lives and duties. ‘Are we near your parish yet, sir?’
‘I do not have a parish: I have always been a scholar rather than a pastor, although I have many friends in London to whom I minister and attempt to bring spiritual light and succour by correspondence and the writing of tracts.’
‘Indeed.’ Joanna racked her brains; this was far more difficult than making conversation with a duchess. ‘That must be very…satisfying.’
‘Indeed it is, my dear Miss Wilson. I feel I myself gain much profit by my efforts in the capital. Now, here we are.’
The gig turned into the drive of a modest yellow brick house set within a somewhat overgrown and dull garden of lawn and laurels. It looked not so much dilapidated as unloved and uncared for and Joanna shivered despite the warm afternoon. A clergyman in modest circumstances could not afford to spend much on external appearances, she chided herself. It was most ungrateful to be critical after he had offered to help her in her difficulties.
No groom came round at the sound of the gig and the Reverend Thoroughgood simply dropped the reins as he helped Joanna down. The pony stood patiently, apparently not inclined to wander off, and the front door opened.
‘Lucille, my dear!’ The Reverend Thoroughgood took Joanna’s arm with one hand and her valise