He moved the horses to the shelter, closing them in for the night. The widow nodded after surveying his work. “I have food on the table.”
“We’ll eat it out here,” Jack said. If they went inside to eat, the widow would expect Charlene to take off her hat and that would be a mistake.
“After all the work you did for me? You will eat in here. If you are thinking that your ‘nephew’ will need to remove his hat, you are right. However, I already know he is a female. Now come eat.”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve eyes, don’t I? Are you telling me youdidn’tknow?” She didn’t wait for an answer but said, “Come along now.”
Charlene looked at Jack as if she half expected them to continue running. He offered his hand. “Let’s trust her.”
“I’m so grateful you said that,” Charlene confided. “I didn’t want to leave, not without having something to eat. Hot water also sounds good right now.”
“Aye, and I’m a bit ripe.”
She laughed. “Your stay in that storage room did you no favors.”
“Thank you, nevvy.” He held the door open for her and Charlene rewarded him by removing her hat. Her braid fell down her back.
“You are a pretty one,” the widow observed in that frank way women had for one another. “There is hot water in that bowl and a good soap for you to wash. She began ladling a thick chicken stew into the three bowls she had set on the table. There was a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese as well. “Here, help yourself.”
Both Jack and Charlene were happy to sit down and do so.
“I used to be as lovely as you,” the widow continued as she poured out mugs of apple cider. “You can’t tell it now though. I’m an old woman. But when my husband was alive, he looked at me the way your gentleman looks at you, as if he’d do anything to keep you safe. So, are you two eloping?”
Charlene glanced at Jack and he decided to be honest. The woman had treated them well. “We are on our way.”
“You are a lovely couple. Your secret is safe with me as long as you promise to call the first baby Elizabeth, Libby for short, after me.”
“If it is a girl, that would be a lovely name,” Charlene said, and Jack was so grateful for the woman’s good humor, he could honor the request.
They ate their fill and then, at Jack’s request, the widow let him heat more water for them to use to bathe. He wondered if she was going to insist they sleep separately. He wanted Charlene close to him.
As if reading his mind about her sensibilities, Libby said, “Oh, go on now. You are a lovely couple. I’ve a good feeling about you. I’ve been a widow for two years now and I miss my husband every night. Widowhood has taught me we must all make the most of every moment. You can say the words to each other or you say them before the anvil priest in Scotland.” She referred to the blacksmith priests who were reputed to make a fine living witnessing the marriages of English couples. “What matters is, do you care for one another? Will you be kind? Generous? I watched you work on that tree together. The two of you will do fine in this life. Trust me.”
Beneath the table, Charlene reached for Jack’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Be good to each other,” the widow offered as a last piece of wisdom before rising from her seat and picking up their empty bowls.
The water over the fire was starting to boil. As Jack moved it from the fire, the widow said, “Let me show you the room.”
It was neat enough with a bed big enough for two, a wood floor, and a side table and a chair. Perfectly serviceable with a washbowl on the table. There was plenty of room for him to sleep on the floor, if need be. He didn’t know what Charlene was thinking and he loved her enough to be patient.
After the widow said her good night, Jack offered to pour hot water in the bowl for Charlene to use in the bedroom. “I’ll wash in the kitchen.” He set about doing exactly that.
Rubbing his jaw, he realized what he needed was to shave. He thought he’d have to wait until they reached Scotland and married to do something about it, but Mrs.Fitzwilliam had laid out a razor, a strop, and some soap that had probably belonged to her husband.
Jack took advantage of her generosity. He shaved and scrubbed off as much of the travel dust as he could. Tomorrow would be another day of hard travel but at least they wouldn’t look like ruffians.
He returned to the room and tapped lightly on the door. “Are you ready for me to come in?”
There was the sound of light footsteps, the rustle of sheets. He imagined Charlene climbing into bed.
“Yes,” her soft voice said.
He opened the door and refused to look at the bed. He was having trouble enough keeping his randy side contained. Soon, she would be his. Very soon.
It didn’t help to see her shoes, stockings, jacket, and breeches neatly folded over the chair.
