“But,” she offered in a generous tone, “if you truly wish for Miss Wadsdale to accompany us-considering all you have done for Bob and Eliza-I shall not object."
“Thank you,” he said drily. “In the morning, I shall set out before dawn to see if I can persuade her to ride with us. I would go tonight, but I suspect she will need one night, at least, to overcome the shock of today.
“But I want your promise, Louisa, that you will not attempt to save anyone else from their circumstances here in Yorkshire! You may leave that for London-I am certain you will find enough causes there to occupy you. In fact, they must be waiting for you now, so the sooner we get there, the better."
Louisa dimpled, so he added, “If anyone shows up here needing help, you may set Mr. Spadger onto the problem and tell him to put it on our bill."
“Yes, Charles,” she agreed meekly. But, seeing her smile, Charles was not deceived.
In the morning, he found Louisa dressed and ready before he was, but a gathering of people in the public room proclaimed that something unusual was going on.
As Charles entered, having sought out Louisa and recognized her voice amongst the others, he saw that Jim and Bob and a host of villagers had bundled themselves into overcoats and were ready to go out.
“What's this?” he asked.
“Oh, Charles!” Louisa cried, overjoyed to share her news with him. “You will never guess what Jim is about!” She turned and indicated the whole crowd with a sweep of her hand. “These are his friends, and they are planning to go house to house singing special Christmas songs! It's Christmas Eve, you know. Doesn't that sound delightful?"
“Perfectly delightful, I'm sure. But you shouldn't be in the public room, Louisa,” he said in a low voice.
“Normally, you would be right, Charles,” she agreed in a confidential whisper, “but these are Jim's friends, not strangers. And as soon as I heard them singing, I had to discover what they were about.” She gestured to them to move closer and said, “You must listen to one of their songs!"
Before Charles could say anything to stop them, Jim's company burst out in crude harmony, the young man's voice leading them all with his hearty baritone.
“Good day, good day,
My Lord Sir Christemas, good day!
Good day, Sir Christemas our King,
For every man, both old and ying,
Is glad of your coming. Good day!"
The song continued; its pleasing notes, joyous words and bubbling spirit made Charles want to linger to hear more. But, determined on his errand for the morning, he drew Louisa aside to speak to her.
“Are they not marvellous?” she whispered before he could speak. “Jim calls it carolling. They visit all the houses in the village. He says it is quite a custom with the people here."
“I have heard of this custom before,” Charles informed her. “It's very quaint, and no longer practised much. Louisa, this is all very well and good, but we must be going."
Her face fell. She looked at the singers wistfully. “Jim did say I might accompany them-"
Charles swallowed an oath, and she added hastily, “But only until you come back with Miss Wadsdale! We shan't go out of sight of the inn. There should be no complication. I have given you my promise, Charles!"
“But, Louisa, this is not an acceptable pastime for young ladies! Only the poorer classes engage in it."
“But very seldom, as you said. And I cannot help thinking, Charles, that these songs should be recorded before they disappear entirely. It is plain, if you listen, that some of them are quite old. If I went along, it should be merely with the intention of marking them down later as I recall them. I don't see what harm it would do."
She looked at him pleadingly. The song over, Jim approached them and stood at her elbow to await Charles's verdict.
Uncomfortable under their gazes, Charles ran his eyes over the carollers and could find nothing objectionable about them or their manners. They stood a respectful distance behind Jim-a dozen or more shining faces, ready to engage in an ancient and perfectly harmless pursuit-these people of England, the backbone of his country.
Louisa watched him anxiously.
It was true, he had not planned to take her to Ned's with him, thinking that perhaps he, alone, might be better suited to dealing with a person of Miss Wadsdale's temperament. The only evidence he had seen, so far, of a temper in Louisa had been directed at the chaperone's ungenerous comments. It would not serve to bring them together too soon.
He recalled that it was Christmas Eve. They would have to spend Christmas Day on the road somewhere, for they were too far away to arrive in London in time. He should have pressed harder, he realized, and even now could not comprehend why he had not. Surely these queer starts of Louisa's could have been fixed or dealt with in a shorter time. But perhaps he had allowed the incident to delay them, knowing a lonely hearth awaited him in Town.
But it was too late, at any rate, to undo the damage he had done. They would be off this morning, with or without Miss Wadsdale, but only if Louisa could be made to stay out of trouble. Charles reflected that he should be relieved that this time the object of her crusading spirit was only songs. Perhaps she would keep out of mischief if she had something to occupy her mind.
He looked at dependable Jim Spadger and decided Louisa would be better off in his care than if left to her own devices.
“Very well,” Charles said. Louisa rewarded him with a melting smile that caused a curious pull at his stomach. “But Jim, I must trust you to stay with Miss Davenport at all times. If anything happens to delay our departure again-even if it involves the most miserable of animals-I will hold you responsible. Is that understood?"
“Aye, yor lordship!"
He doubted whether Jim fully understood his reservations, but that the boy was prepared to deliver her back to the inn on time, he would believe. Louisa had blushed at his strictures, but now she dimpled at him. He fought the urge to smile back at her, but lost the battle.
Charles started out for Ned's with little hope that Miss Wadsdale would come with him this time, but honour bound to try his best diplomacy on her. He vowed to give her half an hour, no more, before he would give up and start again for London.
But the prospect of two more days alone in Louisa's company stirred a dangerous feeling deep inside him. It made him more determined than ever to put some safe presence between them.
As soon as he left, Louisa ran up to her room and donned Miss Conisbrough's fur-trimmed pelisse, the cold outside being far too severe for her spencer alone. Then she rushed out to join Jim and his friends in the inn yard.
They strolled from house to house, singing a variety of songs that Louisa had never encountered, with a lilting, playful nature, designed more for dancing in a ring than for spiritual nourishment. She tried very hard to remember the words as they went along, but had to give up after the first two or three verses.
In deference to Charles's wishes, Louisa did not join in the singing, but held back, maintaining the role of listener. Charles would not have believed her, she knew, but she, too, was becoming anxious about their delay. She knew her guardian's temper, and wonderful as their sojourn in Snaithby had been, realized that one day more and they were sure to be treated to a show of it.
She was eager to face the general and have done with the punishment he was sure to mete out. Only claims on her conscience could have taken precedence over her duty to hasten home. But as long as Charles insisted on trying Miss Wadsdale again, she reasoned, she might as well take this chance to enjoy herself. If she knew her guardian, it would be some time before any amusement would be granted her.
The carollers came to another door and began a song which demanded sport from each and every person who crossed the threshold.