“How shocking, Miss Langston! A lady never has ale with her tea,” she protested, then added in a reasonable tone, “she has whisky in it.”
Jane laughed aloud and lifted her shopping bags meaningfully to her groom awaiting them in the courtyard. The adolescent had been sitting on the back of her pony cart with his legs swinging to some silent tune. At her pointed gesture, he leapt off to take their bundles and secure them. Jane’s large and plentiful, filled with things she could not do without before she traveled to London in the morning. Piper’s single small one held a pair of white linen handkerchiefs she thought to embroider with Connor’s initials. A gesture of thanks for his gentle nudge, as it were.
It had been months since she’d set foot off the estate. With Jane leaving in the morning and winter upon them soon, not to mention her undecided future, there was no better time for an adventure. Why, she hadn’t browsed any of the shops since…
What would life be like now if Harry had approached her that last time she’d come to the village in June instead of turning away? She would have been forced to confront him, putting her freedom in jeopardy. Or perhaps liberating her all the more. She’d never which until she took that leap of faith of her own free will.
There was no chance of it happening today. Aylesbury was a long way from Paris.
Her pleasure in the day dimmed slightly, but Piper refused to let the memory completely extinguish her happiness. And anticipation for the future.
“I have a plan…more of an idea really, where I might be able to rid myself of my veils permanently,” she told her friend after they left the groom to watch their bundles while they took their refreshment inside.
“Revealing yourself to your brother?”
“No.” She dashed her friend’s hopes but was eager to relay newfound ones of her own. “Something a little more adventurous. I wonder what the weather is like in America this time of year?”
“America?” Jane gaped at her as she opened the door. “What madness are you considering this time?”
“I’ll tell you all about it inside.”
In contrast to the cold albeit sunny day, the interior of the King’s Head was dark and warm. Darker still from beneath Piper’s veil. Few patrons filled the tables at this time of the day. Out of habit, she studied them one by one. A man and a woman she didn’t know personally, though she vaguely recognized from the church services she’d attended before her mother had wed her stepfather. They acknowledged Jane with a polite nod.
At a table near the window was a man who had the mien of a clerk, thin and pale with slicked back hair and spectacles, a felt bowler on the table next to a pot of tea. Another solitary man occupied a table by the fireplace with a tankard of ale in front of him. He was bigger with a thick mustache and wore a faded suit she’d wager was his Sunday best. He had an aura about him that left Piper wary.
Both men acknowledged them with nothing more than an absent glance. Comforted by their disinterest, Piper turned to the tavern owner. Mr. Hughes stood at the end of the bar, a mug of in ale in hand, ready to gossip with whoever dared sit in his general proximity.
A habit he was well-known for. She’d never seen him stand or sit anywhere else. Just as she’d never seen him wear anything other than a thick canvas apron over his wool shirt. Or run a comb through the white tufts of hair that stood out from above his ears on an otherwise round, bald head.
He greeted them with a smile of welcome on his ruddy face. “Miss Langston, what a delight. The missus said she thought ye’d gone to Lunnon.”
His inquisitive gaze darted from Jane to Piper, as they tended to on their infrequent visits. They knew he’d taken to trying to guess who was swathed in heavy mourning each time they came. Mrs. Hughes, who was in their confidence, told them of his many failed attempts and her continued amusement on the matter.
“Father’s there already, Mr. Hughes,” Jane announced gaily. “We’re to follow in the morning, however, I found I couldn’t leave without another of Mrs. Hughes’s lemon cakes to sustain me while I’m gone.”
He nodded with enthusiasm. “A private parlor for ye then?”
“Yes, and a tea tray, please. Thank you, Mr. Hughes.”
The barkeep disappeared around the corner to prepare their usual room and inform his wife of their presence. And perhaps take another guess only to be misled if he came too close to the mark.
“No whisky?” Piper teased in a low voice.
“Perhaps Mrs. Hughes can slip us some on the sly.”
Obscured by her veil, Piper cast another glance around the taproom, her grin fading away. How she managed to reach a level of confidence a few months ago to walk about town without a disguise given her anxiety in the presence of strangers, she had no idea. As if he felt her scrutiny, the larger of the two men peered up again over the rim of his tankard. His stare passed over Piper’s obscured figure to Jane, who was greeting Mrs. Hughes with her usual animation.
His cup returned to the table with a lowthunk. With the back of his hand, he swiped away the foam clinging to his mustache. When he stood abruptly, his head nearly grazed the low, blackened beams above. Piper’s heart gave a lurch. It stalled completely when he stepped forward.
“Miss Langston, is it?”
Jane faced him with her customary amicable smile. “Yes?”
The man cocked his head to the side and scrutinized her. “You wouldn’t be Miss Jane Langston, daughter of Mr. Reginald Langston of Meadowcroft by any chance?”
A quiver of ill ease snaked through Piper and she slowly grasped her friend’s hand with a cautionary squeeze. “Don’t,” she whispered under her breath.
Jane cast her a frown before leveling it on the stranger. “Why, yes. And you would be?”
