He gave a rueful laugh. “Nothing of great note. It appears this Mrs Kimble of yours is a widow now.”
The frown intensified. “She was then, as far as I know. That was why she took in lodgers.”
“I see. Well, she does not do so now. Apparently she suffers badly with arthritis.”
Miss Temple’s face changed, swift compassion entering her eyes. “Oh, poor thing! That is a vile complaint.”
“Indeed. However, there is at least hope her memory is not affected.”
He expected her to dwell upon the matter, but it was clear her attention was caught by her surroundings as he turned the corner and took the curricle along what appeared to be a lengthy lane bordered by intermittent dwellings nestling in cosy gardens. The second inn hove into sight and she exclaimed aloud.
“Oh, the Cat and Fiddle! I remember that. I used to love the sign and recited the nursery rhyme every time we passed the place. Are we to stay there?”
“If Mrs Dadford can put us up.”
“Dadford? It rings a vague bell, but I don’t think… Stay! Was she Minnie? Oh, I wish I had kept track of these things.”
“You could scarcely have done so,” Raoul soothed, “burdened with your occupation.” He turned his head to address the groom behind. “I am led to believe there is no place for the horses here, Broome. I have arranged for you to take them back to the Plough. You’ll stay there yourself.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Raoul turned in to the drive and brought the equipage to a halt in front of the swinging sign. Broome was already at the horses’ heads as he prepared to alight. “Let us hope we may find a welcome here. I imagine you will be glad of the respite from being jolted.”
A faint smile came his way, although Miss Temple seemed to have scant attention to spare for anything but the sign and the façade of the little inn. Even in the gathering darkness, it was seen to be a pretty house, with ivy climbing the walls and a wooden porch over the front door. As he approached this, Raoul could see the upper windows were partially open and candlelight twinkled through.
“Let me come in with you this time.”
Since the place was clearly a good deal more genteel than the Plough, he made no objection, returning to the curricle to hand her down. By the time he had done so, the front door opened, and an elderly little dame peered through, candlelight showing behind her.
“Mrs Dadford?”
She looked from Raoul to the equipage and then to Miss Temple, her eyes widening. “Oh! Is it rooms you’re wanting?”
Raoul led his companion forward. “Just so, ma’am. I understand you may be able to accommodate us. We require two rooms.”
The little woman looked from one to the other. “Well, I don’t have much call for it these days, but I can set young Margie to making all ready.”
Raoul was about to respond suitably when Miss Temple forestalled him.
“I beg your pardon, but are you Minnie?”
Surprise flickered in the woman’s gaze. “How did you know that, ma’am? I don’t go by that name except to a favoured few.”
“It is what Mrs Kimble called you.”
“You know Nan Kimble?”
“I used to, a long time ago. I am Felicity Temple.”
For a moment there was no reaction. Raoul watched the woman’s features crease into puzzlement, and was again assailed with the odd frisson that deprecated Miss Temple’s disappointment. Then astonishment lit up Mrs Dadford’s countenance.
“Little Flissie Temple? Who was whisked away and never seen again? You never are!”
“I am indeed.” Miss Temple’s voice cracked. “I did not dare to hope anyone but Mrs Kimble would remember.”
Two hands came out and seized hers. “As if we could forget! Bless me, I’m thrown all to pieces! Come in, come in, dearie, do! And you, sir.”
Pulling Miss Temple along, she bustled into the house. With a brief instruction to his groom to wait, Raoul followed into a square hall, neat and clean and brightly lit by candles in two wall sconces and a candelabrum on a table, with a staircase to one side and several doors leading off. Still blessing herself, Mrs Dadford seized up the candelabrum and opened one of the doors, ushering Miss Temple into a comfortable parlour, rather overstuffed with furniture for its size, but with a cosy air.
