bun. I liked her immensely.
“I am so happy to meet you,” I said, “and so grateful to have your help. But if I may ask—who engaged your services?”
She pursed her heart-shaped mouth and clasped her hands together. “No, no, I cannot tell, I promised I would not. And you mustn’t question me any further, my dear, for I do hate to be impolite, but I must keep my promise.”
I rocked back in surprise. “Well, then . . .” I was at a loss for words. I looked over her shoulder and saw James in bed, looking pale, his eyes closed. “How is the patient?”
She put her arm around me and nudged me out the door. “He is well, but resting right now. Go on downstairs, and please don’t worry about a thing. I have it all under control, and you will be able to say good-bye to him later.” She smiled, her red cheeks like apples beneath her merry eyes.
I felt no qualms about leaving James in her care. But as I went downstairs, the mystery of who had arranged for her service bothered me. It was like when Philip had refused to tell me his full name last night. That still bothered me as well, now that I thought about it.
I found the innkeeper in the taproom and asked if I might have my breakfast served to me in the parlor. I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “Do you know the name of the gentleman who dined with me last night?”
His expression was instantly guarded. “I don’t know who you mean, miss.”
Before I could respond, he made a hasty retreat into the kitchen. I looked after him, puzzled by his reaction. It appeared the mystery would continue a bit longer.
I made my way to the parlor, finding the room bright and sunny. In the center of the table stood a vase of fresh wildflowers, and propped up next to the vase was a letter with “Miss Marianne Daventry” written in a strong, elegant hand across the front. I picked it up and turned it over, examining the seal in the red wax on the back. It was a crest, but one I did not recognize. I broke the seal and opened the letter.
Dear Marianne,
I have engaged the services of a respectable nurse to care for your coachman during his recovery. A carriage will arrive at noon to convey you and your maid to your destination. The carriage you arrived in will be transported back to Bath. I have also taken the liberty of sending a message to Edenbrooke to inform them of your impending arrival. I trust I have left nothing undone.
Your obedient servant,
Philip
I stared at the letter in surprise. This was impossible! I had refused his assistance, and still he had persisted in giving it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. To go to so much trouble to help me was very kind, I had to admit. But then there was his closing— your obedient servant. I could easily imagine him laughing as he wrote the words.
I was still flustered when the innkeeper’s wife entered with my breakfast. I looked up from the letter. “Do you know the name of the gentleman who stayed here last night?”
She shot me a strange look. “No gentleman stayed here last night.”
What was this? I held up the letter as proof that I had not imagined him. “There was a gentleman who dined with me. He caught me when I fainted?”
“He did not stay the night, miss.” She set the dishes on the table with a rough clatter. “He left close to midnight.”
That seemed strange. Why would he travel so late? Why not sleep here and start his journey in the morning?
The innkeeper’s wife turned to the door, and I called out.
“Wait. Do you know his name?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, miss, and I’ll not take any badgering, not after the night I had and the morning too.” She glared at me, as if daring me to argue with her, and then quickly left the room. I stared after her with wide eyes. This was the strangest inn I had ever known.
I reread the letter as I ate breakfast, feeling more irritated with Philip with every passing moment. I convinced Betsy to take a walk with me to
“I am so happy to meet you,” I said, “and so grateful to have your help. But if I may ask—who engaged your services?”
She pursed her heart-shaped mouth and clasped her hands together. “No, no, I cannot tell, I promised I would not. And you mustn’t question me any further, my dear, for I do hate to be impolite, but I must keep my promise.”
I rocked back in surprise. “Well, then . . .” I was at a loss for words. I looked over her shoulder and saw James in bed, looking pale, his eyes closed. “How is the patient?”
She put her arm around me and nudged me out the door. “He is well, but resting right now. Go on downstairs, and please don’t worry about a thing. I have it all under control, and you will be able to say good-bye to him later.” She smiled, her red cheeks like apples beneath her merry eyes.
I felt no qualms about leaving James in her care. But as I went downstairs, the mystery of who had arranged for her service bothered me. It was like when Philip had refused to tell me his full name last night. That still bothered me as well, now that I thought about it.
I found the innkeeper in the taproom and asked if I might have my breakfast served to me in the parlor. I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “Do you know the name of the gentleman who dined with me last night?”
His expression was instantly guarded. “I don’t know who you mean, miss.”
Before I could respond, he made a hasty retreat into the kitchen. I looked after him, puzzled by his reaction. It appeared the mystery would continue a bit longer.
I made my way to the parlor, finding the room bright and sunny. In the center of the table stood a vase of fresh wildflowers, and propped up next to the vase was a letter with “Miss Marianne Daventry” written in a strong, elegant hand across the front. I picked it up and turned it over, examining the seal in the red wax on the back. It was a crest, but one I did not recognize. I broke the seal and opened the letter.
Dear Marianne,
I have engaged the services of a respectable nurse to care for your coachman during his recovery. A carriage will arrive at noon to convey you and your maid to your destination. The carriage you arrived in will be transported back to Bath. I have also taken the liberty of sending a message to Edenbrooke to inform them of your impending arrival. I trust I have left nothing undone.
Your obedient servant,
Philip
I stared at the letter in surprise. This was impossible! I had refused his assistance, and still he had persisted in giving it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. To go to so much trouble to help me was very kind, I had to admit. But then there was his closing— your obedient servant. I could easily imagine him laughing as he wrote the words.
I was still flustered when the innkeeper’s wife entered with my breakfast. I looked up from the letter. “Do you know the name of the gentleman who stayed here last night?”
She shot me a strange look. “No gentleman stayed here last night.”
What was this? I held up the letter as proof that I had not imagined him. “There was a gentleman who dined with me. He caught me when I fainted?”
“He did not stay the night, miss.” She set the dishes on the table with a rough clatter. “He left close to midnight.”
That seemed strange. Why would he travel so late? Why not sleep here and start his journey in the morning?
The innkeeper’s wife turned to the door, and I called out.
“Wait. Do you know his name?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, miss, and I’ll not take any badgering, not after the night I had and the morning too.” She glared at me, as if daring me to argue with her, and then quickly left the room. I stared after her with wide eyes. This was the strangest inn I had ever known.
I reread the letter as I ate breakfast, feeling more irritated with Philip with every passing moment. I convinced Betsy to take a walk with me to
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