Anthony appeared just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Beckoning to her, he hurried back to the cart. ‘We won’t get far in this,’ he predicted as the rain began to come down heavier, ‘and Horatio is likely to bolt if the thunder gets any louder.' He held the horse still as George climbed back onto the box, Nelson shivering in her arms. ‘We’ll shelter in theGreen Man,’ he decided and taking hold of the horse’s bridle, he guided the stallion towards the inn.
George bent her head over Nelson, protecting him against the now driving deluge while Anthony guided the nervous horse into the inn’s stable yard. ‘Go inside,’ he shouted as he began tugging at the soaking bridle. Helplessly, George watched for a second until a flash followed by a loud clap of thunder impelled her to move. Gripping Nelson under her arm, she hurried towards the inn’s entrance, just as someone ran out to assist Anthony in stabling the horse.
Ten minutes later, he entered the inn, soaked to the skin. ‘You’ll get a bloody ague if you don’t get out o’ those wet clothes,’ George advised him, shifting up so he could get nearer to the fire.
‘Unfortunately, I neglected to bring a spare set with me,’ he answered drily, not bothering to berate her for swearing. ‘A tot of brandy will have to suffice.’ He sat down on a stone plinth next to the fireplace. ‘What’ll you have, George?’
‘I reckon the same as you if your purse can stretch to it.’ He gave her a droll look and ordered two brandies.
‘We din’t see this comin’,’ the innkeeper commented, pouring two brandies. ‘I ain’t seen such a deluge since nineteen.’ He nodded towards the rain driving against the window. ‘I reckon we might lose the road if it keeps up.’
‘Lose the road?’ Anthony quizzed, paying for their drinks.
‘Aye, the river’ll burst if it gets much ‘igher.’
‘Shit,’ muttered Anthony under his breath. Of all the days to decide to come into the village… He sat back down next to the fire and handed a glass of brandy to George.
‘You reckon we might be stuck then?’ she asked, taking a small sip. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
‘Nothing we can do about it. We’ll have to stay overnight if the road’s impassable. Do you have any rooms?’ he questioned the innkeeper.
‘Aye, we got one spare, an’ a nice oxtail stew on tonight.’
Just then, the door banged open, and two men hurried in. ‘Bloody soaked through to me draws, I am,’ the first one complained sourly.
‘Road’s gone,’ the other added, ‘better ready yersen fer a few more customers, Jack.’
The innkeeper looked over at Anthony. ‘You takin’ that room then?’ Anthony sighed and nodded. ‘And we’ll have some bread and dripping if you have it and two tankards of ale.’
‘Want some pickled eggs to go wi’ it?’
‘Ooh yes,’ George responded enthusiastically. ‘I love a pickled egg.’
‘We’ll do without the eggs, thank you,’ Anthony interrupted swiftly. ‘I might have to share a room with you,’ he declared at his companion’s scowl, ‘but I’m not sharing it with your deuced arse as well.’
Against her will, George found herself laughing. ‘Pickled eggs ‘r deadly,’ she agreed.
She sipped her brandy chuckling, until abruptly she registered what he’d said.Share a room.Hugging Nelson to her, she buried her head in his fur to hide her flaming face. Clearly he’dalreadyforgotten she was a woman…
∞∞∞
‘Thunder an’ turf, Agnes, you’re such a deuced gabster at times.’
‘I only asked if the lad he was looking for was named George,’ his wife answered indignantly. ‘There are lots of Georges, and if you hadn’t tried to sell me a bag of moonshine before disappearing Lord knows where, I would have had more of my wits about me.’
‘Well, it’s a deuced good job Lizzy came when she did. I wouldn’t have put it past the bounder to have put you to bed with a mattock.’ He gave a loud sigh. ‘This whole business is looking smokier by the minute, and I don’t mind admitting that I wish Nicholas was here. It’s just fortunate we got to Luke before he had the chance to open his gob.’
‘Do you think Anthony’s in danger?’ Agnes breathed, wringing her hands. ‘It sets up my bristles that he should be confined to his house with some … ne’er do well. It must be frightful for him. He’s simply too kind-hearted for his own good.’
The Reverend wisely refrained from mentioning that Anthony had looked anything but blue-devilled. Instead, he nodded sagely and patted her arm. ‘He gets it from you, my dove.’
Agnes gave a small sniff. ‘I must concede I am tempted to go to him,’ she confessed, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. ‘There are times when only a mother’s comfort will do.’ She reached for a biscuit, so fortunately missed the Reverend’s look of sudden alarm.
‘I don’t think that would be wise dearest,’ he answered carefully at length. ‘Anthony is a man grown, and we must trust his instincts. They have been fine-tuned from the many years he’s spent under your wise guidance.’ For a second, the Reverend thought he might have done it a bit too brown as Agnes gave him a narrow look, but then she followed it up with a dramatic sigh.
‘It’s emotionally draining being a mother,’ she murmured brokenly. Augustus Shackleford nodded sympathetically whilst privately thinking,especially on a Friday afternoon between three and four…
‘When are you and Percy going to Exeter?’ Agnes questioned in the next breath, reaching for another biscuit.
