Listening to their cheerful music, Louisa tried not to think too wistfully of her future, or of how unlikely it would be that she would ever see Charles again. Her chosen escort had proved to be far more to her than a mere protector. She could not think of Charles without admiration and-she confessed-excitement. She even appreciated the caution with which he greeted her ideas. No sensible man would go off half-cocked, and Charles was far more sensible than most.
Intelligent, too, and thoughtful. As an image of his lean, sensitive face rose before her, she recalled how skillfully he had dealt with Bob and Eliza, even though she had not believed him capable of such tender handling. She should have known that a man so high in the government would have superior skills to recommend him, something besides a handsome face and a charming manner… which he certainly had, whenever he chose to use it.
What she could not have guessed was how attractive all these things would make him to her, how much she would come to rely on his judgement, or… how deeply she would enjoy seeing him smile. Now, all she could think of was the way he made her feel when he touched her inadvertently or looked on her with his brown eyes, of the thrill that shot through her when he clasped her hands and smiled, of the melting need she felt every time she hoped he wanted her… Oh, how much she would dread to tell him goodbye…
“Now thrice welcome, Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer,
Minc'd pies and plum porridge,
Good ale and strong beer;
With pig, goose and capon…"
The carollers intruded on her thoughts with a song so merry that Louisa had to smile. As she followed them to the next door, wistfully, she resolved to listen intently to the music to ward off all thoughts of her leave-taking from Charles. And for his sake, she even tried to think more charitably of Miss Wadsdale.
After a few more stops, the singers left the last house in the village and circled back with a hopeful chorus of “let's eat and drink freely, here's nothing to pay!’ Then they came to the road and paused to sing for a carriage which had stopped to hear them.
The window of the elegant travelling coach had been lowered. A fashionable young lady peered outside, and she smiled to encourage the singers. But, while they sang for her, her attention seemed drawn more and more towards Louisa; after she had studiously glanced up and down Louisa's figure, the young lady's smile grew stiff.
Feeling strange under such scrutiny, Louisa tried harder to seem one with the singers. She moved closer behind Jim Spadger and attempted to shield herself with his bulk. She even pretended to sing the words she did not know, but the lady in the carriage soon called a halt to the performance.
She beckoned imperiously to Louisa to move closer to the carriage.
With bemused glances, the carollers parted to let her come forward. Louisa took a few hesitant steps toward the carriage and curtsied politely.
The lady stared at her and then said, “That is an attractive pelisse you are wearing."
Louisa flushed at what seemed an impertinent remark. “Why, thank you."
“You will pardon me, I hope,” the young lady said with an arrogant tilt to her chin, “but I do not know you. Are you staying hereabouts?"
Louisa puzzled over her interest; then she reasoned that her newness must be the cause of this lady's questions. A stranger in a village this small must certainly arouse curiosity.
She curtsied again, and decided not to take offence at the lady's impertinence. She should ignore it rather than bring attention on herself and risk involving Charles.
“Yes, miss,” she said, intending to sound more humble than she was. “I am staying with the Spadgers here in Snaithby.” Better, she thought, to let the lady assume she was some distant kinswoman of theirs. A cousin, perhaps, of a higher class than they-even a cit. It would not matter as long as her answer quelled further questions.
But she had reckoned without considering Jim, and her heart jerked in anticipation when the young lady turned to him with an angry look and asked, “Is this true, Jim?"
“Yes, miss."
His answer put an end to her strange interrogation, for the lady merely stared at Louisa once again, and then, pulling back into her carriage suddenly, called to the driver to go on. The carollers backed away from the horses’ path, and the coach soon disappeared down the road.
The mood of revelry, which the lady had interrupted, soon took hold of them again. Rather pleased with her performance, and her handling of a situation which might have led to some embarrassrnent, Louisa joined them in the next verse. The group made slow progress down the opposite side of the road, until, some time later, they once again found themselves outside the inn.
Louisa looked for evidence that Charles had returned, but seeing none, she turned back to bid her companions goodbye. She had given her hand and made her adieux to three of the women when she suddenly sensed a large, wheezing presence behind her.
Louisa turned to be confronted by a heavyset, red-faced officer of the Crown.
He looked her over and nodded. Then he cocked a brow and said, “Jim, tha’ says this ‘ere lass be staying wi’ thy folks at T’ Crown and Pear?"
Jim frowned and came forward. “I say it do be so."
“Wull, lad, I doesn't know what tha's been up to, no I don't. But this lady ‘ere be under arrest."
“Arrest!” Louisa stared hard at the man, not believing her ears. “Whatever do you mean? What for?"
“For thieving-so Miss Conisbrough says,” the bailiff answered.
“Miss Conisbrough!” Both Louisa and Jim cried out the name.
“Aye. Drove ta my house just now, she did. And made ‘er complaint."
Louisa's mind darted about, until she recalled the incident not a half hour before. So that's who the young lady in the carriage was! She had never thought of asking Jim the lady's name. She had been so certain her assumptions were correct, and so satisfied with her own conduct, that Miss Conisbrough had been sitting across from her, believing her to have stolen her pelisse, and Louisa none the wiser.
“There's some mistake,” Louisa told the bailiff. “I've taken nothing. If I could simply speak to Miss Conisbrough, I'm certain this could be cleared up immediately.” She was conscious of the villagers’ eyes turned upon her. All those people, who had appeared so friendly and eager to have her with them, now looked at her with shocked suspicion.
Only Jim still believed her, but even he looked shaken.
No matter, though, what his loyalties were-whether to the Conisbroughs or to the law-he took her part. He formed two fists and started to circle around the bailiff.
“Now, lad-” the man put up both hands and spoke in an avuncular tone “-tha’ doesn't mean ta start a wrangle. Tha’ can't ignore what his lordship's sister says now, can tha? Leave off, now-do! Or tha'll find thysel’ in gaol alongside o’ t’ lady."
“Yes, Jim,” Louisa said hurriedly, not wishing to cause trouble for him, as well. “We must do what the bailiff says. But you mustn't worry. It's all a misunderstanding, and I'm certain it can be set right."
Then she thought of Charles, of the inconvenience this would cause him and of the wound his dignity would suffer if anyone were to hear of the scandal.
She swallowed unhappily and said, “You must tell my cousin that he must not delay his journey on my account. You will give him that message for me when he returns… won't you, Jim?"
She saw immediately that her last words had been a mistake. Jim put down his fists and stared at her with the first hint of suspicion. What kind of cousin, he must be reasoning, would abandon her to the law?
With Jim's hurtful look burning a hole in her back, Louisa accompanied the bailiff down the road to his gig. The band of carollers had grown silent. Shame and a guilty conscience persecuted her as she rode away from them.