“He be upstairs, m’
lord. First door on the right.” Turning to the doctor, the innkeeper added, “Me
Mol’s got him calmed, but she hasn’t been able to stop the bleeding, sir.”
“Is he awake?” the doctor inquired.
“Aye, that he is and angry ‘bout his quandary. He proposed
to me daughter even.”
The two men rushed up the stairs, and the innkeeper peered
at Emily with raised brows.
“Was there somethin’ you be needing, Miss?” he asked
pointedly.
Emily blushed. “Pardon me, but I must have dozed. Has there
been no message yet for Miss Emily Radford from Mrs. Pickering?”
“No, Miss, I told ye earlier that the Pickerings live down
Stockbridge way,” the round, middle aged man with cherry cheeks replied. “Don’t
think they get up ‘ere much, and I don’t ‘spect them tonight neither. In fact,
I haven’t seen either o’ ‘em in years since they had that young ‘un.”
“But they were to send me a carriage. I must get to their
home this evening. I’m sorry, sir, but is there any way I could hire a barouche
to take me there still?”
“Well, I only got one wagon, an’ I don’t like to send me lads out after dark, ya see,” the man paused and scratched his chin. “But I might have been persuaded to do a favor for ye, for a goodly fee of course, iffn’ this emergency hadn’t arisen. I got to keep the wagon on hand in case…”
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