Page 20 of By Marsh and By Moor (Marsh and Moor #1)

That led to a conversation about horses they had each worked with, extraordinary cases of illness they’d seen, favourite poultices and ointments.

Wallace was a softly-spoken man, his voice at odds with his height and broad shoulders.

He smiled often, with a warmth that reached his eyes. He seemed eager to have Jed like him.

Jed couldn’t help remembering Solomon’s words: I’ve warmed his bed in the past… It was odd to sit at a table with Wallace after hearing him so often mentioned, and even odder still to think that he must know, or at least have guessed, what lay between Solomon and Jed.

Despite this oddness, the conversation flowed easily; the topic of horses and horse-keeping was a familiar one for all of them.

Wallace and Solomon were polite enough never to let the conversation drift into a discussion of their life in London that would have excluded Jed.

Nevertheless, he was constantly reminded of how well they knew each other.

It was clear in every laugh they shared, every sentence that Solomon started and Wallace finished.

Some bond seemed to hold them together. A bond forged in adversity, Jed thought. He felt a flash of jealousy of that closeness—not because Wallace had ever bedded Solomon, but because he probably knew Solomon’s heart and mind far better than Jed did or ever would.

“Solomon says you have a fine singing voice,” Wallace said to Jed, once they had exhausted the topic of the care and use of horses.

“Well… I’ve a strong voice, at any rate.”

“Wallace used to belong to a choir in London,” Solomon put in.

As a young man, Jed had been a member of the Methodist choir in his village. He’d loved it: practice in the blacksmith’s house, a friendly drink afterwards with the other choir members, and a rousing performance on Sundays. It seemed like another lifetime, now.

“Are you church or chapel?” he asked Wallace. “I ask acause there’s a fine choir at the Meeting House on Cross Street.”

“Chapel, mostly. Where’s Cross Street, then? That’s behind the Guildhall, en’t it?”

They talked about choirs and singers they had known, those songs that were easiest or most difficult to sing in company, and the particularities of performing in front of a crowd.

“I nearly didn’t go along to my first practice, I was that nervous,” Wallace said. “I don’t know how I worked up the courage to cross the threshold.”

“Oh, I know how,” Solomon said. “It was in hopes of getting to speak to the pretty choirmaster’s daughter.”

“It was not! Or… maybe only a little bit.”

Solomon’s lip twitched. Looking at him, at the laughter sparkling in his eyes and the teasing quirk to his lips, Jed was seized by a burst of fondness.

He felt better now than he had when he left the carrier’s yard. Calmer. Coming here was the best thing he could have done tonight. He had, momentarily, been tempted to hide away alone. Thank goodness he hadn’t.

The evening stretched out, the conversation flowing over another round of drinks.

Jed found himself watching Wallace, with his ready blush and broad, open smile, so different from Solomon or from Jed himself.

He had noticed that Solomon always seemed to be looking out for Wallace.

Jed understood that. There was something about Wallace’s open sincerity that would make any more cynically minded friend of his want to protect him from the world.

One of the taps ran dry, and Wallace was called to fetch another barrel, leaving Jed and Solomon alone.

“I was nervous that the two of you might not get along,” Solomon confessed.

Jed had been nervous about the same thing. He shrugged. “You needn’t have been. You know, the friend of my friend is my friend, and all that. Don’t it say that in the Bible?”

“Hmm… Not in those exact words, I don’t think.”

“Well, I never was much of a Biblical scholar.”

“I know,” Solomon said with amusement in his voice. In answer to Jed’s raised brows, he went on, “When I told you my name, back on the beach when we first met, you seemed to think nothing of it. But Jedediah was one of the other names of King Solomon.”

“Was it now?” That resonated faintly with something Jed had heard during his patchy Sunday schooling. “En’t Solomon the fellow as was famed for his wisdom? I must confess I don’t feel very wise myself.”

Solomon grinned. “Neither do I. But I’m happy to be unwise with you.”

Wallace came back carrying another three tankards. Solomon took advantage of his return to rise from the table and step out into the back alley for a piss—which left Wallace and Jed alone at the table.

There was a short silence.

“Solomon talks about you a great deal,” Wallace said after a moment.

“Well, he talks about you a great deal too.”

Wallace’s face creased in a smile. “Not in the same way, I think.”

Jed wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Wallace wrapped his big hands around his tankard, dwarfing it. “You’re, um, only living in Barnstaple for the now, I collect?”

“That’s right. Soon as the press cools off, I’ll be back to my village.”

There was another silence. This was ridiculous. They had been chatting happily not five minutes ago. Wallace was biting his lip. He looked rather like he was trying to work up the courage to say something.

Jed took another drink.

The dark-haired barmaid stopped at their table. She gave Jed a friendly smile, and then Wallace a broader one. “This the fellow you were talking about, is it?” she asked, indicating Jed with her head. “Solomon’s friend?”

“Yes, this is Jed Trevithick,” Wallace said. “Jed, this is Emma Yates.”

She looked Jed up and down. “So you’re the fellow as wants a letter written?”

“Ah—yes. That’s me.”

“Well, do you come around here any morning before noon. I can even give you a sheet of paper, if you need it.”

“Thank ‘ee. It’s uncommon kind of you.”

“No trouble. Evening, Solomon,” she added to Solomon, who had just joined them.

“Have a drink with us, Emma?” Solomon suggested.

She glanced around. The group of rowdy young men had left by now, and the room was much quieter. “All right. Why not?”

The rest of the evening was spent in cheerful conversation with Emma, who had been born and raised in Barnstaple, and had lots to say about everything.

It was with reluctance that Jed finally left the warmth and cheer of the Boar to walk back to his lodging house alone, through cold and lonely streets.

He comforted himself with the thought that, soon, he would be able to write a letter to Carrie, and that would be the first step on the road back to his old life.