Elizabeth clung now to the seat of the curricle as she looked back on that night over the achingly lonely years between. Hetherington just could not be the same man. They could not possibly have grown so far apart after having shared that.
"Am I traveling too fast for you?" his cool voice asked now.
"What? Oh, no," she said blankly, startled out of her deep thoughts.
"You are clinging to the seat as if you fear for your life," he said. "I assure you that you are quite safe with me."
"Yes, I know," she said breathlessly. No, it could not be. It could not be the same man. There had been no barriers left between her and that other Robert. They had become one entity.
"You are tired," he said. "We shall stop soon for a change of horses, and you will be able to rest for a while and have some refreshment. But we will press on farther until we are stopped by darkness."
"Oh, yes, please," she agreed fervently.
He said not another word to her until they stopped at a posting house one half-hour later. Although she tried to persuade him then to proceed immediately, he insisted that she step inside the inn. He took a private parlor there and ordered her tea and a meal of beef and vegetables. But he did not join her there. When she questioned him later, he told her that he had eaten in the public taproom.
They traveled on for a few more hours until the growing dusk made the roads hazardous for the horses. Hetherington stopped at the next town only to discover that the inhabitants for miles around had descended on the place in anticipation of a boxing mill that was to take place there the next day. There was not a room to be had in the firs! two inns he stopped at, and in the third he was successful only because one patron had been invited to stay at a nearby home and had vacated his room only a few minutes before. There was only the one room available, but he dared not take the chance of traveling farther. All the inns of the town were likely to be full, and it was too dark to drive out of town. He took the room in the name of himself and his wife.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth felt numb again. She knew that there was no use in objecting to the arrangements that had been made. They had been turned away from two other inns already and it was perfectly obvious that the whole town would be the same. She allowed Hetherington to lift her to the ground and take her bag from the back of the curricle.
"You will take my arm and stay close beside me," he commanded. And because the inn yard was bustling with horses and ostlers and guests, she obeyed.
She pressed even closer to his side when they entered the inn and stepped straight into the public taproom. It was crowded and noisy. Men sat and stood and jostled one another in every inch of space, it seemed. Elizabeth lowered her eyes and allowed herself to be guided across the room to the staircase. Hetherington was not a tall or a broad man. But he had a certain presence and a charming smile that did not falter in such situations. A path opened for him as if by magic.
Hetherington led the way up the staircase and into a small, dark room that was wholly dominated by a large bed. A washstand, a table, and a chair filled most of the remaining space. Elizabeth felt herself flush with embarrassment. Although the noise from the taproom sounded almost as loud upstairs, they seemed very much alone together in the room. He set her bag down beside the washstand.
"This is quite intolerable," Elizabeth said in a strangled voice.
He looked at her. "I could not agree more, ma'am," he said coldly. "But if you expect me to play the gentleman and offer to stay downstairs tonight, you will be sadly disappointed. I must have a few hours of sleep if I am tl drive you home tomorrow."
Elizabeth walked to the low window opposite the fool of the bed and stared blindly out.
"If you can spare a blanket and a pillow," he continued. "I shall sleep quite comfortably on the floor."
She said nothing.
"I shall go downstairs now," he said. "Lock the door. You must on no account open it to anyone. There are too many revelers around tonight who are in their cups. I shall have the key to let myself in later. Go to bed, Elizabeth, and get some sleep. You have been under much strain today, and tomorrow will not be easy for you. You may rest easy. You have nothing to fear from me."
Elizabeth pressed her forehead against the windowpane and continued to stare out into the darkness. There was silence for a while and then she heard him leave the room and lock the door behind him. She closed her eyes. Robert, Robert, what happened to us? she wondered. But she would not stop to think. She had exhausted herself with memories that afternoon. She must prepare for bed now and climb beneath the covers before he returned. She could not risk being caught in the act of disrobing. In fact, she did not wish to face him in any guise that night.
She wasted several agonized minutes deciding whether to undress or not. Her clothing seemed to offer some measure of defense. Yet her gray cotton dress would be hopelessly creased if she slept in it. And if she removed it to sleep in her chemise, she might as well change into the one nightgown she had brought with her. She undressed hastily, waiting until she was in the relative safety of the nightgown before washing herself at the washbasin.
Then she dithered over another problem. Should she leave her hair as it was, in its tight knot at her neck, or should she brush it out as she usually did at night? There was only one sensible choice, of course. The heavy knot would be uncomfortable to lie on and would look silly too, she supposed. She quickly removed the pins and brushed her thick chestnut hair until it crackled.
Finally she pulled one of the two blankets from the bed and one of the pillows. She tossed them onto the floor and climbed into the bed in panic. He might be back at any moment. But she soon forced herself back onto the floor. The candle was out of reach on the washstand. She did not want that to be burning when Hetherington returned. And if he was to move in the darkness, it would be unkind to leave his bedding in a heap on the floor. He would be dreadfully uncomfortable.
She looked around her and then removed her gray cloak from the hook on the door. She spread it on the floor with his own greatcoat on top of it. She laid the blanket on top and turned down one corner. She plumped up the lumpy pillow as best she could and put it in place. Kneeling back on her heels to view the overall effect, Elizabeth suddenly had a mental picture of Hetherington lying there, and the image sent her scurrying to blow out the candle and climb back into the bed and beneath the covers. She pulled the single blanket up around her ears even though the room was not cold.
Falling asleep was another matter altogether. She found herself constantly listening for footsteps in the passageway outside. There was much traffic to and fro, but the footsteps always passed the door. And the noise from below was incessant. She might as well have taken her bedding into the middle of the taproom and tried to sleep there, Elizabeth thought wryly as she tried to ignore shouts and singing and cups banging over the loud hum of masculine voices.
Then she started to think about Jeremy. She had seen the child only once, at his christening, but she felt as if she knew him very well. John's letters were always full of descriptions of the youngster and bulletins of his progress. She could almost picture the child with his sturdy build and the blond curls that he had inherited from Louise. Both parents obviously doted on their son. John would be devastated if anything happened to him, and goodnes* only knew what the shock might do to Louise in her condition. Elizabeth prayed that the child would recover She prayed that whatever happened she would have the strength to offer both her brother and his wife the help they needed. Her own problems paled in comparison to what they might be facing.