“Don’t use it then,” he replied almost cheerily as he turned and started toward the forest. “But if you start limping, I won’t carry you.” Tamsyn leaped from the seat and joyfully went tearing after him.
And then they both disappeared, swallowed up by the woods.
Elise debated her next actions for only a moment. She didn’t know how far they would have to walk before they caught a ride or reached the next posting house.
She might also find herself doing more walking than she’d planned over the next few days because, yes, it could take her that long to reach Ireland. Wrapping her feet seemed a wise course of action.
Elise went around to the side of the wreckage where she could sit but be somewhat hidden from any traffic coming down the road from either way. She removed her shoe, glanced in all directions, and then lifted her skirts and untied the ribbons holding up her stockings. She rolled them down.
Kit’s shirt material was soft. Not fine lawn but good cotton and not at all scratchy. Elise made her own clothing, so she had an appreciation for different fabrics. She also knew how to use her teeth to rip the fabric. Dara was horrified by the practice, but Elise and Gwendolyn had done it all the time.
Careful to keep her feet out of the mud, she wrapped the binding around the ball of her foot and around her toes, covering a raw blister there, and then put on her stocking. It was almost a pleasure to slip her foot into her shoe. She quickly set to work on the other foot. She even had enough of the material to braid her hair and tie it off securely.
Her tail wagging, Tamsyn found Elise in her hiding spot. She pushed the muddy dog to the side and realized Kit stood not more than five feet from her. With his superior height, he could easily see over the barrier she had placed between herself and the world.
Elise rose from her seat. “How long have you been watching me?” Her feet felt much better.
He picked up a stick and threw it. Tamsyn went bounding after it. “Elise, you are a comely lass, but your blisters are not that exciting.”
“I didn’t suggest they were,” she shot back. “Shall we go? And you’d best watch yourself. You will grow attached to that dog.”
“I already am,” he admitted. “She’s a good one.”
True.
“Shall we?” he asked, already moving down the road.
She watched his tall form a moment. Tamsyn proudly carried the stick in her mouth as if hoping Kit would notice and throw it again.
Her traveling companions. For better or worse.
Elise half skipped her steps to catch up with them.
Chapter Six
May the roof above you never fall in, and those gathered beneath it never fall out.
Irish Proverb
London
Dara had not expected to see Lady Whitby at Harding Howell and Company.
The shop was fairly busy. Word had gone out that gloves of the finest dove-gray leather imaginable were offered for sale at a reasonable cost, and many had come to see what they thought.
It dawned on Dara that there had been a time when she and her sisters had crossed paths with Lady Whitby quite often. Then the troubles had started with Elise.
Her ladyship was definitely on Elise’s side. She considered herself a mentor to their younger sister and even allowed Elise to be a welcome guest in her home for days without end whenever she was upset with Dara and Michael.
Yes, her youngest sister was not happy about living under Michael’s roof. After all, Dara and Elise had the closest of bonds. They had slept in the same room since birth. Dara knew Elise had not accepted her marriage. Her feelings were hurt. And while Dara could not make matters right because she loved Michael, fully and completely, this estrangement with her youngest sister was a heavy weight.
In the crush of other glove customers, Lady Whitby had not noticed Dara yet. Dara turned, expecting Gwendolyn to be beside her. Instead, her tall, elegant sister was in a conversation with Mrs. Hastings, their vicar’s wife. Mrs. Hastings was a chatterbox, and Gwendolyn was too kind to excuse herself.
Therefore, it was up to Dara alone to deal with Lady Whitby. She wanted to know what her youngest sister was doing. She longed to have a conversation with Elise, a peaceful one, where Dara could attempt to talk sense into her sister, because Elise should not keep running to Lady Whitby’s every time her nose was out of joint.
Aunt Tweedie had advised Dara to stop being embarrassed over the matter. Sisters fought, Tweedie said. She had fought with their Gram when they were Dara’s and Elise’s age. Her advice was to give it time. “Elise will eventually realize she is being petty. She’ll overcome this upset. It is all part of becoming mature.”
Dara wasn’t so certain. She loved her husband. He loved her. But here was the truth—if Dara could have prevented herself from falling in love with Michael, she would have. Her first loyalty had always been to her sisters. However, there were some things in life that couldn’t be controlled. Michael had been one of them. Dara was very proud to be his wife.
