The Earl's Christmas Delivery Page 5

  It was pointless to correct his misunderstanding. They must not have heard clearly when she mentioned that Mr. Bexley was the earl's brother-in-law, not hers. Mostly she was interested in keeping the injured Jasper comfortable and the others distracted from eating those pies. It was true; they did smell amazingly good.

  "I'm sure your Nana is everything you say that she is," Carole conceded. "Perhaps once we've made it to our destination and ascertained Mr. Bexley's current condition then his lordship might send someone to see Nana."

  "Oh, she doesn't often talk to the servants people send," Basil said. "She likes to see the patient himself, or the direct family if he truly can't travel. Says the healing works better that way."

  Carole thought she heard the earl grumble something under his breath about payment working better that way, too. She didn't ask him to elaborate, though. Clearly he was skeptical of the young men's claims regarding Nana's healing abilities. To tell the truth, she was, too. No doubt the young men's stories were greatly exaggerated, but she also knew there must be some grain of truth to them. Why else would poor Jasper sit here in such agony and swear over and over that he wanted no local doctor but would wait until he reached Nana? There must be some reason he held such deep faith in her competence.

  It was a shame the earl was unwilling to consider it.

  "She must be a great blessing to everyone who knows her," Carole said, directing her words at their new friends but knowing full well the earl heard everything that she said. "Pity we won't get to see her. I hope Estelle isn't too disappointed when she hears of our adventures. I know she's got excellent physicians at her disposal, but surely she'd be happy for anything that might give added hope. I know that when my mother was ill, I would have welcomed any help that I could."

  "Your mother was ill?" the earl said, surprising her by actually joining in rather than just offering another snort or dubious grumble.

  "She was. A few years ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Did she recover?"

  "No. She finally went to her reward after suffering far too long."

  "I'm sorry. And your father?"

  "I believe he stopped living the day she died. It was nearly a year, though, before I could lay him to rest beside her."

  And she'd been on her own, life getting more and more dismal every year since then.

  "I see," he said softly. "Please forgive me for bringing up such a difficult subject."

  "I don't mind talking about them. It's just that... sometimes it's easier not to."

  He nodded and she thought perhaps he truly did understand. He had, after all, lost his father at a young age. He seemed cold and unaffected, but deep inside he must know the pain of loss and heartache. If his heart ever thawed enough to recall it.

  "I'll bet Nana would say there's some hope for this Bexley fellow," Mel offered.

  The others agreed. Carole risked a sharp rebuke by turning back to the earl and making her plea. Perhaps this Nana person might be all that the young men insisted. It just didn't seem right to ignore what Fate had so clearly dropped in their lap, not simply for the sake of saving a few hours.

  "Don't you think Estelle would welcome any ray of hope, my lord?" she asked him carefully. "Her husband is so dear to her, and if there is any chance this old nurse might have something to offer, could we not at least make the tiniest effort? Think of the children. What would they give to keep their father with them?"

  He looked at her and she forced herself not to shift her gaze away. It was a challenge, though. The man's blue eyes were cold like January ice over a pond. They searched her for something but she couldn't quite comprehend what. Just when she'd begun to prepare for a rebuke, he seemed to have found what he was looking for and turned those cold eyes away.

  "Very well, Miss Meriwether. For the sake of the children, I suppose it will not be the end of the world if our journey is delayed by a few hours. We will simply hope there are decent lodgings for us tonight in Newchild-on-Bourne."

  "That's the spirit, sir!" Mel called up to him. "You won't regret it."

  "But of course we will have to let your nurse-maid tend to Jasper first," Carole said. "We would not want to be in the way of his treatment."

  The young men all agreed that this was the knackiest notion and Jasper settled in to endure the rest of the afternoon's journey. Carole couldn't help but smile at the earl.

  "Thank you. The fact that you were willing to take a chance will be the greatest gift ever for Estelle."

  "We'll see what comes of it all," he replied.

  It was a cool, detached answer, but he didn't roll his eyes or grumble under his breath. Apparently the earl did have a heart under his iceberg exterior. She wasn't sure what surprised her more about this, that she discovered his heart or that the discovery was clearly doing something to her own.

  His stomach rumbled and he wished he'd not let Miss Meriwether talk him into passing through the last village along their route rather than stopping to rest themselves and get some supper. But she was concerned that the Jasper fellow was not looking very good and she insisted they continue on. They'd stopped early on after they met up with the young men and collected additional rugs to cover them and something more to bandage the one's head, but even though the earl strongly suggested calling a physician then, they refused. The whole lot of them insisted the best thing to do was to hurry for Newchild-on-Bourne so that is what he'd been doing.

  He wished Miss Meriwether hadn't given the last of her sticky buns to the young men, though. She could have used a few more meals and he hated to think that she must be as hollow as he was feeling just now. Clearly she'd been thrilled to have something to share, but Myserleigh would have much rather watched her eat the buns than to hear the smacking lips of the raucous young men behind him.

  He'd rather hear their smacking lips now, however, than the rumbling sound of thunder rolling in the distance. The sun was resting just above the horizon but it was rapidly being swallowed up by the next wave of clouds. These not only threatened rain, but a full-fledged storm, it appeared.

  He pressed the hefty draft horse to move just a bit faster. Near as he could tell, they had an hour yet to go before making it to this Nana person's house. From the looks of things, darkness and storm would be hitting just about exactly at that time. Poor Miss Meriwether would likely be frozen by then. She'd lapsed into silence, not even her teeth chattered now. It had likely been a mistake to add these extra hours onto their travels today. Even the fat little pony seemed to be just barely dragging along.

  "I wonder if they've found our horse yet?" one of the young men pondered aloud.

  When they'd stopped briefly in that first village they'd left word of the escaped beast, promising a reward to anyone who should find it and allow them to collect it at a later time. The earl thought it unlikely that anyone would go to the trouble of keeping the flighty creature for the petty reward they offered, so he privately added to the reward being offered. Apparently the horse actually belonged to the one called Basil and he wanted it back. Along with the carriage, which they'd also made arrangements for someone local to collect and look after for them and for which the earl also left private assurances of payment if things were handled properly.

  "I hope wherever your horse ended up, it finds a secure place from the elements," Miss Meriwether said. "It looks as if we're to be getting a storm."

  "I'm trying to get us to our destination as quickly as possible," the earl said.

  "Of course you are. We'll be fine. My bonnet can only be ruined once, after all."

  She tried to speak lightly, but of course he could hear the bone-weary exhaustion in her voice. The day's travel had used up every bit of her, yet still she was trying to make the best of things. Even after all this, he could not find fault with the woman. What a puzzle she was.

  "I will see that you get a new bonnet," he said.

  It had been a simple thing to say, but she brightened as if he'd promised the moon.

  "
Will you? Heavens, I was not trying to ply you with guilt for my own gain, sir."

  "No, I'm certain you would be perfectly happy to retain the sodden pile on your head," he replied. "It is purely for my own vanity that I insist on my sister's houseguest being seen in something that has not lived through a typhoon."

  Fortunately she laughed. As he heard himself speak the words it dawned on him that a tired, unfed woman might find them insulting. Gentlemen were supposed to compliment women's appearance, after all, not use words like "sodden pile" when describing them. But Miss Meriwether did not take offense. Her laughter trilled easily and she gave him a sincere smile that warmed him more than any extra rug could have done at that moment. What sort of being was she? It seemed even at the point of exhaustion she could not help but be everything charming.

  "I'll do my best to be a credit to your sister's household," she said. "Although I am compelled to point out that you do not appear quite the fashion plate yourself, sir. It seems today's travels have not been gentle for either of us."

  He pushed his own rather saggy hat back up into something resembling the proper position and glanced down at his attire. Indeed, these borrowed clothes had not improved as the day went along. His own disheveled appearance made Miss Meriwether look quite properly turned out, as a matter of fact. He had to laugh. What a pair they made.

  "I'm surprised our three guests were willing to risk being seen with us," he commented.

  More of her warm, trilling laugher.

  "Well, one of them has been hit on the head, sir. I suppose that might explain part of it."

  "And is that your excuse?" he asked her. "Were you hit on the head? Is this why you've subjected yourself to all this torture today?"

  "Sadly, I'm afraid I have no excuse for my actions," she replied, blinking bright eyes and making the cold breeze somehow feel tropical. "I cannot say what compelled me to climb in your wagon today."

  "I am glad that you did," he admitted. "Although, I sincerely expect you will not share in my sentiment very soon now. This storm is arriving quickly, it seems."

  "Yes, and I see no sign of any village anywhere," she replied. "I guess we'll get wet again, sir."

  "It's not far now!" one of the young men called up to them. "We've almost made it."

  "Yes, but so has the storm and I—"

  He was cut off by the sudden flash of lightening and the almost immediate crack of thunder. Miss Meriwether cried out and leaned in toward him. He found that he did not at all mind, so he held the reins tightly in one hand to steady the startled horse and put his other arm snuggly around her.

  "It seems the storm is upon us," he said.

  "Look! Something else is, as well!" she cried, pointing off to the side.

  He barely had time to glance over before a loud, wooly wave began surging over the low stone wall that ran along next to the road. The horse started violently and he was forced to take his arm from Miss Meriwether and hold more tightly to the reins, calling out to calm the usually sedate creature. The wave rolled toward them, a mass of baaing and stampeding sheep.

  "What the devil...?" one of the young men yelled out.

  "A whole flock of sheep has been startled by the storm!" Miss Meriwether said. "Heavens, but they've packed the roadway in front and behind us!"

  Indeed she was correct. The sheep must have been grazing in the pasture just on the other side of the wall, but now in their panic they rushed the wall and heaved over it, milling about in a crazed panic around them, trapped against the high banks of the roadway and the walls running along both sides. The foolish creatures had no idea to move forward and instead were pressing against the wagon, shoving the wheels and being snarled underneath it. A few unlucky ones of the flock were quite trampled under the feet of their fellows, further trapping the wagon and adding to the horrific din surrounding them.

  On top of it all, now they could hear the shouts of men and wild barking of dogs. Shepherds and sheep dogs began pouring over the walls now, caught up in the chaos and doing very little to sort it all out. The dogs darted madly through the mess, nipping at heels of the sheep as well as the horse and the pony. Miss Meriwether worried for her little charge so she leaned out of the wagon, calling for the shepherds to signal their dogs. It was a muddle of disaster no matter where Myserleigh turned his head.

  Mostly, though, he was concerned for Miss Meriwether. He risked losing control of his horse to put his arm around her again in hopes of keeping her inside the wagon, despite how she twisted and squirmed in her efforts to get to her pony. He did not wish damage on the poor little thing, but he'd much rather lose it than Miss Meriwether.

  "Sit still! You'll be trampled for certain if you go tumbling out," he advised.

  "But the pony!" she cried.

  "The shepherds are here. They'll settle their sheep; just give them a moment."

  He hoped that was true. For an agonizing few seconds it seemed as if it might never happen, but finally the two healthy young men in the wagon were able to reach over the sides and help shove sheep in a useful direction and the dogs finally made up their minds which way to begin driving their flock. The pandemonium calmed and most of the flock began moving forward, away from the wagon.

  A few unlucky lambs, however, seemed a bit worse for the wear. Two of the shepherds scooped up three injured younglings. Thunder rolled overhead again and the sheep bolted forward, charging up the roadway ahead of them. The majority of the shepherds called back to their friends with the armloads of wounded, then hurried on ahead to keep up.

  Myserleigh invited the stragglers.

  "We've room in the wagon," he said. "We can cart those lambs as far as Newchild-on-Bourne."

  The two remaining shepherds seemed thrilled with that offer.

  "That's where we was headed, sir," they said, approaching with their bleating bundles.

  The young men made room and the very last inches of space in the wagon were now filled with shepherds and wailing lambs. The sounds of the dogs and the flock was fading out ahead, indicating they were moving much faster than the wagon. Myserleigh was quite amazed, actually, that his old horse was still able to pull it—piano-forte, scholars, shepherds, and all. If they made it to Newchild it would be a miracle, for certain.

  "Is the pony unhurt?" Miss Meriwether called back.

  "Looks good to me," one of the young men offered.

  "Skittish, but she's not turning up lame," a shepherd added. "Well fed, ain't she?"

  "She's a Christmas gift for some children," Carole explained.

  The shepherds chuckled. One muttered his opinion on the mater.

  "For some wide children, I should hope."

  "She just needs regular exercise," Miss Meriwether said, finally finding something to be offended over.

  "Pity she ain't no racing horse, though," the other shepherd said. "We're all going to get wet here in a minute or two if we can't hurry the pace."

  And indeed he was correct. Myserleigh could hear the rush of wind and the sound of the rain coming their way. He urged the nag just a bit faster and glanced at Miss Meriwether.

  "Better pull that oilcloth tighter around yourself," he suggested. "I think your bonnet's not yet seen the worst of it."

  She did as he said, then pointed ahead. "Look! Beyond those trees. I can just make out the spire of a church."

  "Newchild-on-Bourne is right over the next rise," one of the shepherds said. "That's Bethlehem Church you see there."

  Myserleigh could think of no more welcome sight. So they'd made it, and just in the nick of time. The light was fading fast and thick clouds closed in all around. He leaned back to call to the young men.

  "Is Jasper still with us?"

  "I'm here, sir," the young man replied, his voice weaker than ever. "And I can't tell you how pleased I am to see home. That's our little village for sure."

  One of his companions had even more welcome information to add.

  "And our Nana lives just across the way from the church. She keeps
the inn there—The Fettered Ghost. She'll have hot meals and lots of room for us all around her warm fire."

  Although the inn's name didn't hold much promise, the thought of a hot meal and room at the fire sounded like heaven.

  Chapter 5

  There was no room at the inn. Myserleigh could scarcely believe that such a tiny, insignificant little village could be as filled with visitors as it was, but apparently distant family members had returned for the holiday and some local couple anticipated an upcoming wedding that had brought an influx of guests. Whatever the reason, the result was that the common room of The Fettered Ghost was crowded to overflowing, food was at a premium, and rooms were full beyond capacity.

  The shepherds were not worried for they were planning to wait out the storm out in the stables with their recovering lambs. Apparently a night in the stable was not as unappealing to them as it would at first seem. Myserleigh's other passengers were content to sleep in whatever corner or cupboard their Nana offered to provide them. This left Myserleigh to be only concerned for Miss Meriwether.

  She was traveling alone, after all, and if a bed was located for her it would most certainly be in a roomful of strangers. Myserleigh could not be at all comfortable with that. Nor did he like the idea of her passing the night here in the common room, getting what sleep she could find on a bench or one of the straight wooden chairs. No, after the horrible day she had spent she certainly had earned a safe, restful night.

  Nana turned out to be a sturdy woman with mounds of wiry gray hair and a smile that made all her guests feel welcome, even though she could provide them very little at this point. Her name was Mrs. Hark and Myserleigh was more than happy to finally have some way to refer to her other than calling her Nana. She ran The Fettered Ghost with her husband, a large, boisterous fellow named Harold. He was happily serving his guests what resources he had while his wife disappeared into the back to tend Jasper's injuries.