Elizabeth Mansfield by The Counterfeit Husband Page B

But now it seems t’ me to be just exac’ly what we need.”
    “Why? If I wouldn’t take kindly to it afore—”
    “Well, matters ’er different now. It’d be a perfect place to hide.”
    Daniel tried to stop her effusions, but Tom put a hand on his arm. “Let her talk, Daniel. She’s the only one of us who’s shown a spark of imagination. Perhaps she has something, this time.”
    “I do, Dan’l, truly. The best suggestion yet. Yer uncle Hicks.”
    “My uncle? What’re ye talkin’ about?”
    “He’s in Dorset, somewheres near Shillingstone, ain’t he? That must be a goodish distance from the sea, and as good a place as any I can think of to—”
    “But he’s a butler, ain’t he? On a grand estate. Workin’ fer a duke or an earl. Wyckfield Park it’s called, if I remember rightly. You ain’t imaginin’ he could take us in an’ hide us, are ye?”
    “No, but per’aps he could find us places there. To work, I mean. I could serve as a housemaid, couldn’t I? At least ’til the baby comes. And you both could be gardeners or stable hands or footmen or somethin’.”
    “Nay, girl, ye’re talkin’ like a witlin’. What do we know about gardenin’ or horses or household service?”
    “What do ye know about
anythin’
save seafarin’?” she countered bluntly. “That sort of work’s as easy t’ learn as anythin’ else.”
    Daniel was silenced but unconvinced. Dubiously, he looked at Tom. Tom shook his head. “She may be right, Daniel. Certainly no impressment officer would go seeking you in the house of a nobleman. It isn’t the sort of work for
me
, but you and Betsy might do very well—”
    Betsy planted herself before him, her eyes flashing and her arm akimbo. “We already decided we’ll stick t’gether, so let’s hear no more you-and-Betsys! An’ if the work would do fer Daniel an’ me,why wouldn’t it do fer you?”
    Tom made a face. “I’ll be dashed if I want to be a footman for a puffed-up nobleman to step upon.”
    “Are ye tryin’ to say ye’re too good fer household service? Per’aps it’d be better t’ be trussed up like a sack o’ mutton and dumped on the deck o’ that navy ship ye spoke of, eh?” she demanded tartly.
    Daniel grinned at his wife’s spirit. “She has ye there, old man. An’ she may be right. No King’s officer would recognize us all spruced up in footmen’s livery.”
    Tom looked from one to the other questioningly. “Are you seriously saying you want to go to Dorset and ask this uncle of yours for work as
servants?”
    “That’s exac’ly what I’m sayin’,” Betsy declared. “Nothin’s wrong with bein’ servants. The quarters are clean, the pay’s reg’lar, and the food’s always good an’ plentiful.”
    “That’s true enough,” Daniel agreed. “You’ll probably like it better ’n ye think, Tom, fer there’s sure t’ be a goodish number of pretty young maids about to kiss under the stairs—”
    “Oh, hush, Dan’l! What a thing to say! Tom ain’t the sort to maul the girls under the stairs,” his wife objected. “He’s far too gentlemanly.”
    Tom grinned at her. “No man’s too gentlemanly for that, my dear. In fact, the promise of some pretty girls to cuddle is the only part of your plan which I find pleasing, if the truth were told.”
    “There, y’ see?” Daniel chortled, pinching his wife’s cheek. “I know this fellow better ’n you do, my girl. I seen ’im fondle and forsake more ’n one lass in our time together.”
    “Shame on ye, Dan’l, trying to make me b’lieve yer best friend is a rake! I don’t want t’ hear no more o’ this. Besides, it ain’t gettin’ us no closer to solvin’ our problem. Are we goin’ to Dorset or ain’t we?”
    “But Betsy, love,” Daniel said, his grin dying, “it ain’t very likely, is it, that my uncle Hicks could find posts fer all three of us?”
    “How can we tell ’til we try?” Betsy responded reasonably. “Stake nothin’, draw nothin’,