“Waterford. Fancy meeting you here,” drawled the captain. “I thought you’d be on the road north, or on your way to the coast to take ship for France.”
The nasty sod had always had a sour expression which turned an otherwise unremarkable face ugly. His lazy and gluttonous habits had added fat, not improving the view. The scowl that responded to Captain Harraway’s words made him look even more repulsive. Jake had known fattened Christmas hogs, pig swill dripping from their jowls, that looked more appealing.
He stuck his chin out. “I should call the constable on your gutterrat. He should hang for burgling my house.”
The captain arched a single eyebrow. “Burgling? Flynn, here? How ridiculous. Why should a respectable valet do such a thing?”
That marked a milestone. The first time anyone had ever called Jake respectable! He couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ll wipe that smirk off your face,” screeched Waterford, taking a step toward Jake with his fists up, but he met the captain’s fist before he got near. It rocked him back, and perhaps knocked some sense into him, for he looked from Jake, who had his own fists ready, to Captain Harraway, and snarled, “The constable, I say.”
“Do so,” said the captain. “I shall tell him, on my honor as a gentleman, that it is a lie. Flynn has not taken anything that belonged to you. No, nor has he stolen from anyone else, either, since we last raided a French camp for supper before the battle of Toulouse.”
Waterford opened his mouth to object, but the captain repeated, “He has stolen nothing that belonged to you, which is why I know you have no evidence to put before the magistrate. You, on the other hand, have no idea what evidence I have ofyourcrimes.”
The pair of them glared at one another. Waterford broke first, of course, turning away and lumbering out of the room, calling for his horse.
“And good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Captain Harraway.
Chapter Eight
“What a surpriseto find out Captain Harraway is here,” commented Miss Ellen, when Kat reported to her.
“He has a servant with him, my lady,” Kat told her. “Miss Ellen, it is Jacob Flynn.”
Miss Ellen frowned in thought. It had, after all, been eight years. Miss Ellen had not been thinking about Jacob, and praying for his wellbeing and success, every day of those eight years.
“Oh!” said Miss Ellen. “Jacob Flynn. Our youngest footman. Your friend. Are you certain, Kat?”
“Almost certain. The same eyes, Miss Ellen. The same hair color. He is a bit taller, but he was only fifteen when he left us.”
“That is true,” Miss Ellen agreed. “Has he come looking for us, do you think?”
“I do not see how,” said Kat. “Or why.” But her heart once again skipped a beat at the thought. Was Jake here because he remembered their promises to one another?
She could recall the exact words. She had played them over and over in her mind hundreds of times in the eight years of his absence. “If you can, Kat, wait for me,” he had said. “I shall come back when Ican offer you a home, to see if you are still free, and if you still want me.”
Her answer had come without hesitation. “I shall, Jake. I shall wait and I shall want you.”
“I don’t know how long I shall be gone,” he had warned. “If you find someone else, Kat, you’ll not hear a word of blame from me. Provided he is good to you.”
“I shall wait,” she had promised. And she had, though to be fair, she’d never found another man who tempted her.
“You were sweet on him, were you not?” Miss Ellen commented. “Are you still, Kat?”
Kat was torn. The fourteen-year-old who had sent Jacob off with her best wishes and fervent prayers for his safe travel and successful return was apparently still somewhere inside of her, eager to throw herself into her former lover’s arms.
On the other hand, he’d not come for her as he’d promised. He was still a servant. And he didn’t recognize her. That last hurt, though she knew she was being unreasonable. After all, she was eight years older and disguised as a man.
“We are not those people any longer,” she said, doing her best to squelch her longing. “Let us see if we can find out what he and Captain Harraway are after, before we think about old friendships.”
Captain Harraway visitedthe following morning. Kat came down to hurry the maid who was meant to be delivering Miss Ellen’s tray. The male persona had benefits, allowing her to travel on the stage without danger of molestation and letting her swagger about like the men did, giving the maids the benefitof her wisdom.
But it also meant she and Miss Ellen had to sneak time alone together. Above all, Kat could never be caught in Miss Ellen’s bedchamber, so she couldn’t take her mistress her tray.
The entire complement of maids and most of the footmen were clustered around staring at Captain Harraway and his servant, who were seated at the table that dominated the kitchen and served mainly as a work surface. Regular meals were eaten in the servants’ hall, but the kitchen table also became an eating surface for one or more servants, or one or more kitchen guests.
As it had now, for Jake and the captain were eating cook’s toasted muffins and sipping tea. The gentleman was telling a story about making a stew in a Spanish village while avoiding French snipers, and making a comedy out of what must have been a hair-raising moment. The manor’s servants were hanging on every word.
