Page 44 of The Gentlewoman Author

Chapter Eighteen

From inside the carriage, Louisa heard the whip thrash against the horses over and over. They’d been on the road from Bath for three days, but rain impeded their progress, and it was no better today. Infuriated, Tobias rapped against the roof as many times as the driver whipped the horses.

“It seems we’ll not get far today,” he said, but smiled, slinking his arm around her and pulling her to his lap. Her lips were bruised, but Tobias persisted, despite Nellie’s presence.

He withdrew a flask from his coat and drank deeply before offering it to Louisa. She shook her head, catching Nellie’s disapproving look when his cool wet lips began working their way from Louisa’s ear to her collar bone.

“Oh! Stop.” She pushed his shoulders with both hands, but his arms tightened, vice-like, around her. Crushed against him, his mouth devouring any available skin, her weakness and impotence solidified into panic. Who was Tobias Savage? What had she done in putting her faith in him?

The carriage shuddered to a halt, and a few moments later, the driver approached. Hopeful Tobias would let her go, she tried to scoot away, but he squeezed her to him.

“We’ll have to stop,” the driver said.

“Not again!”

Nellie squeaked from across the carriage, and Louisa saw in her pale face the terror that bloomed in her chest.

Louisa eyed the sagging inn wherein they would spend the night, a reflection of her own despair. Tobias took her by the waist, lifted her out of the carriage, and dropped her into slippery mud. Nellie offered a steadying arm.

“You, what’s your name?” Tobias asked Nellie. “Go to the servants’ quarters directly. You’re not needed until morning.”

“Don’t leave,” Louisa said. “I’ll need help⁠—”

“I’ll be happy to help you, love.” He turned to Nellie. “Go.”

Nellie walked toward the inn, turning once before disappearing through the door.

Tobias bound his hand around Louisa’s wrist as he directed the footman about the trunks. Inside the inn, a sour smell filled her nose, and a mouse skittered across the floor. She looked for Nellie but saw no familiar face.

“A room for my wife and me.” Tobias said to the innkeeper, pulling Louisa into him.

“Two rooms, if you please,” she said. This was the first time Tobias asked for a single room.

Tobias glanced at her, his habitual sneer exaggerated. Her insides shriveled, and she tried to step away. This was not what she had agreed to. He held her tight, his fingers digging into her waist. He put his mouth against her neck and told her they would never spend another night apart. He snaked his other hand around her bare neck and under her bodice. She pushed him away, but his smile grew at her distress.

The face that she had thought so handsome was now grotesque, his smile menacing and his eyes bloodshot. She would have to get rid of him. But how? She tried to catch a sympathetic eye, but everyone went about their business without glancing her way. The innkeeper kept his head down, staring at his ledger. Near the stairs, a woman paused to take in the scene. Louisa pleaded with her eyes.

“Polly,” the innkeeper addressed the woman without looking up. “See that the upstairs room is ready.” The woman turned and began ascending the stairs, sending Louisa’s heart high in her chest to pound in a rhythm of panic.

The room paid for, they made their way to a dank chamber with cracked yellowing walls and slumped furniture, where Tobias removed a flask of whiskey from his pocket and tipped the last few drops into his mouth. He’d been drinking for hours.

“Oh, you finished the bottle just as I was wanting to try a bit myself.” She begged him to fetch a little more rum. His eyes brightened, and he turned out of the room.

As soon as his footsteps faded, she bolted the door then stepped back to examine it. Unlike many things in the inn, it did not look like it would fall apart. A sturdy length of iron, about the width of her thumb slid into a bracket in the doorframe to secure the door. Still, she did not feel safe.

The room contained a bed, a dressing table, and a chair. With all the strength her terror inspired, she tried to push the bed across the room. It barely budged. She turned to the chair. It was rickety and small, but it was all she had. She secured it beneath the door handle. Pleased to find the little table heavier than it looked, she scraped it against the floor, sure Tobias would hear the noise and come running. But he did not. He was likely so inebriated that running was impossible for him. With the furniture piled against the door, she curled on top of the bed and waited.

Within minutes, Tobias turned the knob. He pounded on the door. “Louisa! Open the door.” He kicked it, and the chair shuddered. Frozen to the bed, she pressed her palms into her eyes and remained silent.

“You hen-hearted, low-bred, slattern. Open up.” His shouting brought the innkeeper, asking what the matter was.

“My wife has locked me out. Get an ax.”

Louisa’s pounding heart stopped.

“No, you don’t.” This from a female voice, perhaps the innkeeper’s wife. “This establishment is enough of a mess. I’ll not have you ruinin’ a fine door.”

“That’s sure,” said the innkeeper. “She’ll open to you soon enough.”