Never a Road Without a Turning (21 page)

“I thought I heard a shout.”

“Nightmare, Missus. The master were a bit shook up from this evenin’. Memories of the wars and all.”

She was silent for a time, and Pip thought perhaps she’d gone until she said, “All right, then. If you think he won’t need me, then I’ll go back to bed and check on him in the morning.”

Pip blew out a breath and buried his face in his shaking hands for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I don’t think he’ll need any more ’elp tonight, Missus.”

Her footsteps receded along with the sliver of candlelight from beneath his door, and Pip stumbled the last few steps to his bed. He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. He sat huddled beneath his blankets in the center of his mattress, shaking and tormented by his memories until the gray light of predawn began to chase away the shadows in his room.

E
VENTUALLY
,
HE
dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his clothes before making his way to the kitchen. Despite the early hour, Mrs. Applethwaite was already bustling in front of the fire when Pip entered the room.

“You look awful,” she said by way of a greeting.

Pip simply nodded wearily and sat down at the rough wooden table.

“You aren’t ill again, are you?”

“No, Missus. Only tired. I ’ad trouble sleepin’.”

The housekeeper clattered about and a steaming mug appeared before him.

“Drink this.”

Pip cupped his hands around the mug, warming them, and took a cautious sip. Tea and milk, sweetened with a generous amount of honey. Pip glanced at the woman in surprise, but she’d already gone back to fussing over the bread she had rising near the fire.

Why was she being so kind to him?

Pip sipped his tea and watched her warily. He was still a bit shaken from the night before, so he was doubly grateful for her tiny bit of mothering, but it wasn’t like her at all. It made him nervous.

A bell rang from the far end of the cottage, making Pip jump where he sat. His stomach twisted as he looked at her husband’s vacant chair, but Mrs. Applethwaite was already removing her apron. She shook her head when Pip made to rise.

“I’ll see to him, Pip. I think you’ve done enough for the master. I saw the broken glass in the library… and the nearly empty decanter. Mr. Applethwaite and I will take care of things from here. I assume you’ll need to take the doctor’s carriage back this morning?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then go and see to it, and leave the master to us.”

Pip watched her go with a profound feeling of relief. He knew Ash had been drunk and hadn’t known what he was doing. But Pip wasn’t ready to face him yet. His emotions were so jumbled he didn’t know how to even begin to explain them to himself, let alone to Ash.

The only feeling clear in his head that morning was a longing to go home. The tiny bit of mothering the housekeeper had given him made him almost desperate for Maud. Maud would know what to do, if only he could speak to her now. A letter just wasn’t the same, and he couldn’t be completely honest about Ash in pen and ink at any rate.

Pip drained the rest of his mug and left for the barn before Mrs. Applethwaite could change her mind. After seeing to Molly, he rigged the horse to the gig and drove them to village as the sun peeked over the fells and painted the snow-covered hills with orange fire. The countryside was breathtaking, and the beauty of it soothed him for a time.

Only the stable hands were about when Pip delivered the gig to the inn. The hour was still early, and the air outside bitter, so he hadn’t truly expected to see anyone else. Once the horse was handed off, Pip was at a loss as to what to do next. He didn’t want to return to the cottage, but Mrs. Applethwaite had given him no other errands to run. He dithered outside the inn until a sudden idea struck him, and he smiled. Both Ash and Mrs. Applethwaite would want to know how Mr. Brown fared, and Pip was curious as well. He could wait in the common room until the doctor rose and ask the man himself. Not only would Mrs. Applethwaite excuse his absence, but she’d probably thank him for his thoughtfulness.

Pip doffed his cap and entered the inn through a set of doors by the stables. He snuck into the common room and sat on a bench near the fire, feeling self-conscious in his rough clothes. A quick look around showed him the doctor wasn’t there, but a few other early risers were breaking their fast. Most of them ignored Pip, but he felt furtive glances from a couple of young ladies in one corner and a disapproving glare from their matronly traveling companion. Pip kept his head down and his back to them, not once glancing openly in their direction, but that apparently wasn’t enough for the matron. Out of the corner of his eye, Pip saw the woman wave the innkeeper over to her before whispering and nodding in Pip’s direction.

Pip let out an aggrieved sigh as he saw the man turn and bustle over to him. “Oi, what ye doin’ ’ere, lad?”

“I’m Major McNulty’s man, sir. Just returnin’ the doctor’s gig. Me master told me to ask after Mr. Brown, so I were only waitin’ for the doctor.”

The innkeeper’s forbidding scowl eased, and he nodded sadly. “Oh, right. I remember now. Poor man. It were a bit o’ luck, then, yer master bein’ so close.”

Pip nodded and smiled politely as the innkeeper cast a worried glance back at the woman who’d sent him. “The doctor ain’t left ’is rooms yet. He were up into the wee hours with Mr. Brown. But ye can tell yer master that ’e seems to be on the mend now, and ’e were sleeping peacefully the last time I saw ’im.”

“My master wanted to hear it from the doctor ’imself, but—” Pip glanced at the pinch-lipped matron and shrugged. “I s’pose that’s enough for ’im. Thank ye, sir.”

Pip nodded to the man and donned his cap as he walked out of the room and reluctantly stepped back out into the cold. There was no help for it. He’d have to go back sometime.

Pip pulled his collar up, tucked his hands under his arms, and set off for the cottage. If the weather had been only a touch warmer, he might’ve taken his time on the walk back, but the air was too cold for that. He reached Mr. Cooper’s shop in no time and was about to turn toward the road back to the cottage when Agnes stepped out onto the stoop. Pip stopped in his tracks as he felt a genuinely happy smile spread across his face for the first time in weeks.

Agnes wasn’t Maud, but Pip was suddenly desperate for her company, the familiarity and lack of complication she represented.

“Agnes!”

She turned from tucking a wrapped bundle into her basket, but when she spied who it was, the welcoming smile fell from her lips. “Pip,” she replied with a sniff as he hurried over to her.

“Agnes, dove. Don’t be cross wit me.” Pip’s pout was not feigned.

“What do ye want, then?”

“You, my sweet.”

Her lips twisted and she turned to leave, but Pip threw out a hand to stop her. He was still a good five feet from her as propriety dictated, so she could have simply walked around him if she’d wanted to, but she stopped and cocked her head impatiently at him.

Pip dropped his usual mask and let all of his weariness, confusion, and sadness show in his countenance as he said, “I’m sorry I ’aven’t come to see ye. I miss ye, Agnes. I need to talk to ye. Please?”

She pursed her lips and studied his face. After a while, Pip saw her displeasure melt, replaced by a mixture of exasperation and concern. “Mary’s waitin’ for me down the lane, but I’ll try t’ sneak away tonight after everyone goes t’ bed.”

Pip blew out the breath he’d been holding, and his smile returned. “Thank ye, Agnes.” Now he had something to look forward to, and it helped make the long walk back to the last place he wanted to go bearable.

Ash’s night must have been as restless as Pip’s, because the man spent the entire day in his bedchamber. Mrs. Applethwaite and her husband were kept busy tending to him, and of course that made both of them cross and out of sorts. Pip spent as much of the day as he could in the barn. He was practically frozen through by the time he came in for supper, but that was better that than being pecked at all day long. Supper was a quiet affair, and Pip excused himself early.

He lay in bed for a long time, trying to read but not able to get through more than a few pages as the hours ticked past. And when the house was completely silent, he tucked his blankets under his arm and crept from his room to the kitchen. He stole a heel of bread and some jam, along with a few hot coals from the banked kitchen fire. He was allowed to have a tiny brazier in the barn, but Mrs. Applethwaite had cautioned him not to use it unless the weather turned cold enough the animals were at risk. Tonight he intended to use it, and if the old crow found out… well, he wasn’t sure he gave a damn anymore what she’d do.

He built a nest in a pile of straw with the blankets, as near the brazier as he could safely manage. Molly and the horse shifted in their stalls every now and again, unused to having company so late, but otherwise the night was quiet while he waited. He must have dozed off at some point because a scratching at the back of the barn woke him some time later.

“Ye better be willing to show yer gratitude,” Agnes grumbled as Pip helped her through the opening and then closed and bolted the shutters behind her.

“Come on. Let’s get ye warmed up, dove.” Pip led her to the nest he’d made, draped a blanket over her shoulders, and sat down beside her.

As soon as she stopped shivering, Agnes tugged the mittens from her hands and reached for the front of Pip’s trousers. Pip should have expected it, but the move somehow caught him by surprise and he jumped, grabbing her wrists and holding them away from him. “Wait, Agnes. I truly did want to talk to ye.”

“What for?” she asked impatiently.

Pip supposed she had a right to be confused. He’d asked her to come only thinking of how soothing her presence would be, but he should have remembered
talking
was rarely what they started with when they had a bit of privacy. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he’d be able to give her what she wanted, now that he had her there, and a wave of guilt crashed over him.

“I wanted to apologize for any ’urt I might’ve caused ye, Agnes,” he began, only then realizing the full truth of those words. “I haven’t given ye half of what ye deserve, and if I caused ye any pain in me carelessness, I hope ye can forgive me.”

When Pip mustered the courage to meet her gaze, Agnes was looking at him as if he’d gone daft. “What are you goin’ on about?”

A bit flustered now, Pip tried again. “Ye’r a fine girl, Agnes. And I’m sorry if I led ye t’ believe there were more between us than there is, if I were careless with yer feelings. ’Tis all me own fault. I know it now. And ye have every right to be angry with me.”

Agnes pulled back and turned her face away as her shoulders began to shake. But when Pip set a comforting hand on her arm, she let out a loud snort, and Pip realized she wasn’t crying. She was laughing. “Ye’r barmy, you are,” she sniggered, and Pip pulled his hand away and frowned at her.

“It ain’t that funny,” he grumbled, all hurt pride.

She snorted again and made a show of getting a hold of herself. “Sorry. Pip, ye know I’m fond of ye. Sure’n ye’r the prettiest man I ever laid eyes on, but I’m not a bloody idiot. No girl in ’er right mind would set ’er cap on ye.”

Pip crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. This wasn’t going at all as he had hoped. If anything, he felt worse now than he had before.

Agnes must have noticed his pique, because she stopped grinning at him and tried to look contrite. “I’m me father’s eldest daughter. Someday soon, when Roger Olmsley’s got enough money saved up, he’ll ask for me hand, and I’ll move from me father’s farm to Roger’s, an that’s ’ow it is. Ye ain’t the kind o’ man a girl marries, Pip, and ye know it.”

She was right, but it still stung—especially now because it came all too close to the thoughts he’d been having about Ash. Not only was Pip not the kind a girl would take seriously, but he wasn’t the kind Ash would ever take seriously either. That fact had never really mattered to him before. He’d happily taken full advantage of it in the past. But it did now, and it hurt to have Agnes say the words out loud.

A warm hand cupped his cheek, and Agnes said, “I am sorry, Pip. It weren’t Christian o’ me to laugh at ye.”

Pip could only nod. His thoughts had turned back down the road he’d been trying to avoid, and it looked like there’d be no redirecting them now.

Agnes sighed loudly next to him and let the blanket fall from her shoulders as she rose. “I’m thinkin’ yer troubles ’ave less to do wit me than somethin’ else. But either way, I don’ think ye’r gonna be payin’ me back for me long, cold walk tonight.”

Pip did a quick inventory of his body, but he felt not a single spark of passion, not a tingle anywhere. He began to fear Ash had ruined him in that respect, but perhaps all he needed was time, time to find his swagger again.

“Can I walk ye ’ome?” Pip asked as he too rose to his feet.

“Aye.” Agnes picked up her mittens from the straw and put them back on after straightening her shawl and brushing off her skirts.