Niall’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of visitors?”
Joseph straightened, and Charlie could swear she saw a mischievous glint in the old man’s gaze. “The ones we’ve been waiting for.”
Niall’s eyes widened. “What? Already? But they’re early!”
“Aye, they are. Ye better get down there, lad, before all hell breaks loose.”
“They must have had favorable winds,” Niall said. “I wasnae expecting them for weeks yet.” He turned to Charlie. “Ye must excuse me. I have to see to this.”
With that, he jogged away, leaving a bemused Charlie to follow at a more sedate pace with Joseph when the old man had finally caught his breath.
“What’s going on?” she asked as they walked.
Joseph’s expression was definitely mischievous. “Ye’ll have to wait and see.”
Charlie rolled her eyes but didn’t ask any more questions as they walked down the hill, through the village, and finally entered the walled courtyard that wrapped around the house.
A bizarre sight met her eyes. A long train of brightly colored wagons filled the space, some pulled by horses, some pulled by oxen, all stamping and snorting, and relieving themselves.
What the—?
Charlie rubbed her eyes. Men, women, and children bustled around the wagons, unloading trunks and crates and baskets. Their clothes were as bright and varied as the wagons themselves, with bold patterns and vivid colors.
She spotted Niall standing in the thick of it all, talking with a man who seemed to be in charge—a tall fellow with a wide-brimmed hat and a well-trimmed goatee beard. His clothes were made from expensive looking velvet and were as garishly colored as his wagons. The man’s laughter rang out, causing a flock of nearby pigeons to take flight in a flurry of beating wings and cooing protests.
Leaving Joseph, Charlie walked over to Niall. He lifted his gaze from the man he was talking to and locked eyes with her. His face lit up in a beaming smile that did strange things to Charlie’s insides.
“Ah, Charlotte,” he said warmly. “I have someone I’d like ye to meet.”
The garishly dressed man doffed his hat at her, giving her a roguish grin. “Madam,” he greeted, his accent clearly Italian. “Antonio Ferrani at your service.”
“Charlotte Douglas,” she said, offering her hand, which Antonio took and kissed lightly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Charlotte Douglas,” Antonio said, his grin widening. “Niall tells me you are from Cardiff?”
“Um,” she replied, glancing at Niall. “That’s right.”
“Antonio is the merchant I told ye about,” Niall said. He hesitated for a moment and then added, “He can arrange yer travel back to Cardiff.”
Charlie’s stomach flipped. “You...you can?”
“Indeed,” Antonio said with a smile. “I have river barges traveling to Manchester and from there I’m sure we can arrange your onward passage.”
“When?” Her gaze flickered to Niall and she found him watching her intently.
Antonio shrugged. “Perhaps a fortnight?”
A strange sensation spread through Charlie’s gut. A fortnight. She would be going home in a fortnight. She wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or...disappointed. Whilst logic said she should be yearning for the familiarity of home, for the comfort of her own bed and friends and family, her heart most definitely had other ideas.
“Thank you,” she forced out. “I’m... grateful.”
Antonio doffed his hat and gave a flourishing bow. “Anything for a lady.” He turned his attention back to Niall. “Well, if that’s settled, do you want to inspect the treasures I’ve brought you?”
Niall was still watching Charlie. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then tore his gaze away and focused on Antonio. “Aye, lead the way.”
Antonio led them through the bustling courtyard, weaving between wagons and workers with an ease that suggested he was well used to such chaos.
They came to a halt by a wagon that was larger than the rest and covered with ornate carvings of winding vines and delicate flowers. The paintwork was a brilliant blue, so deep and rich it almost looked black in places. A group of men were busy unloading it, grunting with effort as they lifted out large, flat items wrapped in cloth.
