Page 15 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
His horse was fleet; he had to give him that. It wasn’t his usual mount, and he’d only saddled up a borrowed horse on the spur of the moment that evening. He’d have expected it to have tired by now, but it appeared to relish the chance to have its head. It was a plucky beast.
Plucky, like Venetia. Lord, what other lady would have managed to hold on so long and so uncomplainingly? Her gown was surely ruined, her hair a nest of tangles from the wind, and yet she hadn’t uttered a single complaint about her discomfort. Only concern—for what, he wasn’t certain, as her words had been interrupted.
Perhaps anyone who knew that the alternative was a fate married to a monster would show similar fortitude.
After what seemed like an age, but which perhaps was only another ten or fifteen minutes cantering over hills and dales, the muddy road led them through a small valley. The sides rose steeply on either side, dark and imposing in the night, funneling them forward as if by design. At the bottom was nestled a small hamlet, its buildings huddled together as if for warmth against the encroaching darkness.
And there was a light burning bright. A hostelry where they would surely be able to seek shelter, its windows glowing with the promise of warmth and safety.
Henry just hoped they hadn’t been seen. Though of course, if their pursuer came this way, they’d see it as the only alternative Henry could have taken. Perhaps it wasn’t so wise.
But what else could they do? He couldn’t put Venetia through any more. She mightn’t have the strength besides. He could feel her trembling against him, whether from cold or fear or both, he couldn’t tell.
“Is anyone awake?” Henry shouted as he trotted into the stables behind the hostelry. The smell of hay and horses was awelcome change from the damp night air. “A shilling for your pains.”
That brought a sleepy-looking lad from amongst the hay bales in the loft. Climbing down the ladder, the lad lit a lantern, its golden glow illuminating the weathered beams and casting long shadows across the straw-strewn floor. He regarded them with heavy-lidded eyes which widened when he took in Venetia’s finery, now sadly bedraggled but still unmistakably that of a lady of quality.
“Road to the north’s that way,” he said, stubbing his thumb in the direction of the road they’d left, his expression knowing and a little sly.
“We’re not eloping,” Henry said quickly, for clearly the lad assumed they were on their way to Gretna Green. “In fact, I’m rescuing the young lady from someone who is pursuing her for that purpose. That’s why I need to find the young lady somewhere comfortable to sleep and would ask that if anyone comes after us, you could put them off the scent. You haven’t seen us, all right?” Henry fished in his pocket for a couple of coins which he handed to the lad. “And you’ll get double if you ensure that the villains who are after us are headed in the wrong direction.”
The lad’s eyes widened as he pocketed the coins, the silver gleaming briefly in the lantern light. He headed towards the inn as he said over his shoulder, “I’ll find Mrs. Snicket. Sure, she has a room.”
“Two rooms!” Henry called after him before he turned his attention to Venetia. She looked like a wilting flower, her golden hair flecked with mud, her face pale in the moonlight, her lips tinged with blue from the cold. Despite her disheveled appearance, there was a quiet dignity about her that he couldn’t help but admire.
“Oh, Henry!” she all but wept. “You saved my life and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me. But—”
“M’Lord! M’Lord! The lad just told me of the terrible trouble that’s been visited upon you!” An outraged voice cut the still night as the door to the inn was flung open, a rectangle of warm light spilling out into the yard. “Elopement! Abduction! My, my, words cannot express—”
“Your kindness does you credit, Mrs. Snicket. I take it that is who I am addressing,” Henry began as the large, voluble speaker surged down the stairs towards them, her words loud enough to wake the dead, her substantial form casting an equally substantial shadow. “But really, all we need is a couple of rooms for the night—”
“And you shall have them! My finest, for it is not every day that I am honored to accommodate guests of such high station as yourselves. Viscount Roxingham, to be sure!”
Confused, Henry glanced between the stable lad and the woman who was dabbing at her perspiring cheeks with her apron, clearly tied over her nightgown, her gray ringlets falling beneath her night cap, which sat askew on her head.
“I’m not the Viscount Roxingham.”
“Not the Viscount Roxingham? Then his son,” said Mrs. Snicket comfortably, sending a meaningful look at Henry’s signet ring that caught the light as he helped Venetia down from the horse. “And a true hero, I’m told! Now, come this way, follow me, young things. Mrs. Snicket will take you to the most comfortable bedchamber in the village.”
“Henry! We can’t stay here!” Venetia said, gripping his sleeve then putting her hand to his cheek to make him attend. Her touch was ice cold against his skin, her eyes wide with some unnamed fear.
“Mrs. Snicket, we need two bedchambers,” Henry said, understanding Venetia’s concern and feeling his cheeks burn ashe ushered Venetia ahead of him while he ducked to follow them inside the inn.
Ahead, her candlestick sent a feeble glow that barely illuminated the passage, casting grotesque shadows on the walls as they proceeded. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet, and somewhere in the darkness, a clock ticked. He saw Mrs. Snicket stop, turn the doorknob, and give Venetia a gentle push into the room, which he continued past as Mrs. Snicket said loudly, “And his lordship shall have the room two doors along. No one shall say Mrs. Snicket doesn’t ensure propriety at all times with you young things in such fearful straits and not yet married.”
“We’re not eloping.” Henry tried ineffectually to interrupt her, but she wasn’t listening as she pushed open the door to his room, the hinges protesting with a long, low squeal.
“Breakfast is at your convenience.”
Outside, the wind continued to moan around the eaves, and in the distance, another roll of thunder suggested the storm had not yet finished with them. Henry stood for a moment in the darkness, lit by a single candlestick, listening for any sound of pursuit, but heard nothing beyond the ordinary creaks and sighs of an old building settling for the night.
For now, at least, they were safe, but for how long?
And what of poor Flash, left behind in the darkness?
Chapter Eight
Exhaustion suddenly felledhim like a woodsman’s axe, his limbs leaden, his mind clouded. The worn mattress embraced him, the rough linen sheets cool against his skin. In fact, sleep had claimed him, it seemed, before his head had even touched the pillow.
