Carla Kelly by Miss Chartley's Guided Tour Page A

Omega, her face reddening. As Angela did
not appear offended by such rag manners, Omega reached for the tea
and sipped it slowly, relishing the way it burned down her throat
and into her soggy insides.
    “ My
papa used to call tea ‘English manna,’   ” said Angela.
    “ Where
is he now?” asked Omega, handing back the empty mug.
    “ We
buried him at Toulouse,” was her reply. Angela took hold of Omega’s
hand, and they sat close together, watching the cows watching
them.
    Omega was back in
her clothes again when Hugh returned, Jamie close behind him. Jamie
brightened at once to see her.
    “ Miss
Chartley! This is famous! We are practically on the River
By!”
    She sat down
again and he sat beside her. “I’m sorry that I could not rescue
you, but I do not swim.”
    “ Never
mind about that,” she said. “When you reach your uncle’s estate,
you must learn. We are both woefully ignorant and have only to be
grateful that we fell in with smarter heads than our own. But, sir,
where are we?” she asked Hugh. “And should we not look out for
Timothy Platter?”
    Hugh sat beside
her, resting his maimed arm in his lap. “We have executed what
General Picton—God rest his soul—would call a ‘damned fine tactical
maneuver.’ I think Platter will not find us
immediately.”
    “ You
see, we swam the river,” said Angela.
    Jamie clapped his
hands together. “I tell you, it was famous! Angela hoisted you onto
Hugh’s back, and over you went, and then they came back for me!
We’re on the other side of the river from where Timothy Platter saw
you come out.”
    It all made
sense, and yet it didn’t. “I still don’t understand,” insisted Miss
Chartley. “What were you doing following us? I thought you had only
just come from that direction.”
    “ It’s
true,” agreed Hugh. “But Angela was worried about you. And ... and
I own, I was too.”
    The
self-sufficient Miss Chartley had no comment, other than the
private consideration that the Lord blesses teachers and runaways,
even—especially—when they are stupid.
    “ We’ve
also marched a considerable distance back along the road we
followed this morning,” added Hugh. “That confused the Frogs any
number of times in Spain, and so it should do for a Bow Street
Runner.”
    Omega regarded
Hugh with some admiration. “And you carried me on your back all
this distance?”
    “ You’re not very heavy,” he said, and blushed under her
scrutiny. “In fact, ma’am, do they let you out in high
winds?”
    Omega laughed.
Her stomach rumbled, and even Angela had to smile. Omega tried to
suppress another burp and reddened in embarrassment. She began to
cough uncontrollably.
    “ You’re going to be doing that all night, Miss Chartley, so you
had better get used to it. That’s what happens when you swallow a
river and live to tell about it. Angela and I have burped up our
share of rivers, have we not, niña ?”
    Angela nodded and
settled herself next to Omega, who put her arm around the girl’s
shoulders and pulled her closer.
    “ Thank
you,” Omega whispered, and kissed her cheek.
    Jamie cleared his
throat. “I told Hugh how we came to be together,” he said. “I ... I
had to trust him. I showed him my back.”
    No one said
anything for a moment. Hugh Owen’s face was serious then. He leaned
back against the stall and Omega noticed for the first time how
tired he was, how deep the lines in his face. Clearly the effort of
her rescue and their march, coupled with his own injuries, had
exhausted him. She almost said something to him about that, but
thought better of it.
    “ I
don’t hold with grown men giving little boys stripes like that to
wear around,” he said, “but never mind. The farmer says we’re still
a day or more away from Byworth ... except he didn’t call it
Byworth. It was Byford. At any rate, if we follow the river, we’ll
find it. We will just squirrel away here until you feel like
walking, Miss Chartley.”
    She smiled